He talks about the talent show, the relay races, and the bonfire sing-alongs. He shouts out the twelve-year-old kid whocaught the biggest fish of the week and then released it because—direct quote—“he looked like he wanted to go home.”
“Most of you know our story.” His voice holds steady, but his knuckles tighten around the microphone. Mariel rests her hand on his forearm. “When Erin died, we were afraid the light had gone out of our lives for good. There’s no manual for that kind of loss, and I’m not going to stand up here and pretend we found one.” He swallows. “But this community has been our north star. The fact that you show up, year after year, to take care of each other the way you do—” He stops. Shakes his head. “It gives us a reason to keep going.”
Avah has her arm around my sister, both of them swiping at their cheeks. I drag the back of my hand across my own face, not at all surprised to find it wet.
Avah and Sloane glance at me at the same time.
“Allergies,” I mutter.
“The worst,” Sloane agrees, her voice thick.
Avah reaches over and laces her fingers through mine, and I hope for the millionth time in the past four days that she never lets go.
Maybe I haven’t earned forever quite yet, but that might be the point. Avah and I chose each other with our whole hearts, just like the people in this community have come together despite the challenges they each face.
That’s what NorthStar is. That’s what Avah is for me.
Joel clears his throat. “For now, I’m going to hand things over to my better half.”
“Ditto on everything my husband said,” Mariel announces as she takes the mic and then waits for the laughter to settle. “But I do have a special announcement, and if I don’t get through it before I start crying again, blame Joel’s speech.”
She takes a moment to breathe in and out, and I feel myself following along. “The NorthStar Way has accomplished more than Joel and I ever imagined. But we’ve always dreamed of doing more.One of those dreams is to have a permanent home for this community, a place families can come year-round, instead of borrowing one week each summer.”
The crowd quiets.
“We’re thrilled to announce a new partnership with Jeremy Winslow of Winslow Ventures that will allow us to purchase land and build a permanent facility for retreats, special programs, and community support. Our NorthStar trifecta.”
The eruption is immediate, with campers and volunteers clapping and cheering. As the crowd turns to me, I raise my hand in a wave that I’m sure looks as awkward as it feels.
I’ve stood on stages at tech conferences and shareholder meetings, lauded for my supposed tech brilliance. I’ve been feted by rooms full of people who wanted my money or my connections. These people are cheering because they believe that what NorthStar is going to build with my help will change lives. The fact that I’m the one making it possible is far less important than the promise itself.
Which is exactly why it matters so much to me.
My face is burning as Avah squeezes my hand and whispers, “Breathe.”
The college girl turns from the row in front of us and fist bumps me. “Hell yeah, Lumbersnack.”
Sloane snorts.
Avah grins. “I’m going to call you that for time immemorial.”
“You love my flannel,” I say and wrap my arm around her neck, pulling her back against my chest. I drop a kiss on the top of her head. She smells like sugar and sunscreen from the camp supply shed, and I kind of love that fifty people are watching us right now.
The excitement continues as Mariel transitions into the camp ribbon ceremony—awards for archery, the talent show, even the “Best Campfire S’more Technique,” which Firefighter Dave wins to thunderous applause. While she works through her list, I lift Avah’s hand and press my lips to the Band-Aid on the back of it.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“It’s a minor burn, Jeremy. I’ll survive.”
“And you’ll kick ass while doing it.”
The morning had been chaos after a family of raccoons broke into the camp kitchen overnight and demolished the ten dozen cupcakes meant for tonight’s dessert table. Mariel discovered the carnage at dawn and was halfway to a full-blown crisis when Avah volunteered to bake replacements if the ingredients were on hand.
What followed was three hours of Avah commanding a squad of volunteers, most of whom readily admitted to never having baked anything more complex than boxed brownies. She had them measuring and sifting with the calm authority of aGreat British Bake Offjudge, patiently demonstrated the technique she uses so her buttercream frosting doesn’t break—whatever that means—and then showed everyone how to cut and fold parchment paper into liners sturdy enough to hold their shape. When the cupcakes came out golden and fluffy, the cheer that went up in that kitchen was almost as loud as the one happening now.
My girl gets plenty of recognition in Skylark for her brilliant baking skills, but it was clear she loved the teaching part just as much. And she was a natural at it. I don’t think she dropped one F-bomb in the process.
“You were incredible today,” I tell her. “So patient and kind.”
