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Groth grins wider. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He stomps off, whistling something that might have once been a tune but now sounds like a banshee being drowned.

Renault folds his arms, his expression tight. “If your idea of leadership is allowing that gremlin’s cousin to chew up our resources?—”

“I don’tallowanyone to do anything,” I say. “I give orders. They follow. Or they’re gone. Groth knows how to build camps that don’t collapse. His attitude’s just extra packaging.”

“I’m beginning to wonder what the actual product is.”

“You invested in this,” I remind him. “You signed the charter. This camp is your name, too.”

His jaw tightens. “Yes, and I’d prefer it not to become a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

I lower my voice, step closer. “Then stop micromanaging the pipe layout and start backing the vision you bought into. Cultural unity. Safe spaces. Kids who’ve never seen anything but city walls or cultural conflict getting a summer to believe in something better.”

Renault doesn’t speak. He looks down at the plans like they might change if he glares hard enough.

“Meeting adjourned,” I say. “Go log your feedback in the contractor tent. We’ll reconvene at sixteen hundred.”

They scatter, all except Dena, who lingers long enough to offer me a knowing look.

“You could try smiling more,” she teases.

“I’ll smile when this place stops needing miracles.”

She flutters off with a laugh.

I step away, toward the ridge. From here, the camp sprawls below like a sleeping giant still waiting for its heart to wake. A gust of wind carries the sound of laughter—my daughter’s—bright and sharp.

I turn to find her climbing a stump like it’s Everest, her little fists in the air. Julie’s trailing behind, carrying a lunchbox, looking out of breath and out of place.

“You’re gonna fall,” I call out.

Lillian ignores me. Of course she does.

Julie catches my eye and waves with a sheepish smile. “We’re back!”

“Where’d she go?”

“Gave me the grand tour,” she pants. “Very exclusive.”

“She’s eight. Not a tour guide.”

Julie laughs. “You’re just mad she didn’t giveyouone.”

I huff. “She’s supposed to stay on the main paths.”

“She said she’s wilderness certified,” Julie says, air-quoting.

“She says a lot of things.”

“And most of them are brilliant,” Julie says softly.

Lillian jumps off the stump with a loudthud, then scampers off toward the cabins. Julie watches her go, hands still gripping the lunchbox.

“She’s got a lot of energy,” Julie says.

“She’s got too much time to burn,” I correct.