"I overheard what you've got cooking with this camp thing, and I want in."
"Excuse me?"
"The camp. I want in. I want to help."
"What about your job here?"
The annoyance returned to her face. "It's an internship, so I'm done in two weeks. I start training my replacement next week. And if I don't have anything lined up regarding my major? My parents will expect me to come home for the summer."
"You don't get along with them?"
"I get along with them fine, it's the rest of the people in my small hometown that I don't want to be stuck with." She peered down the hallway and then refocused on me. "It could be an extension of my internship. Hands-on experience in addition to administrative experience with a nonprofit like LCCO will look great on my résumé."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm listening."
"I'm an organizer. I could be there during all of the camp hours. I'd be good at herding little people to where they needed to be in a timely fashion. I could handle the weekly payments from the parents and make sure the money hits the right LCCO account. I could order supplies. I could fill out the reports for the number of volunteer hours."
My head? Spinning. This wasn't a "Hey, kids, let's put on a camp!" kind of project if I had to fill out reports.
Astrid paused and gave me a challenging look. "You had no idea about the required LCCO reports, did you?"
"No, but I bet I know who ordered those reports." I paused. "My brother the CFO."
"In triplicate, no less."
Jesus. "Now I have a question. How old are you?"
"I turned twenty-one last month. Why is that relevant?"
I shrugged. "Just wondering if the reason you want to stay in the Cities instead of going home is to party like it's 1999."
Astrid rolled her eyes. "Props for the Prince reference, but I've never seen the fun in getting drunk and acting stupid. Besides, since this would be an unpaid internship, I'd have to keep my other job waiting tables at Brit's Pub."
I offered her my hand. "I'd be happy for your expertise. But-"
"But keep in mind, as a Lund, you're large and in charge, running the show, yada yada. Got it."
"Has a smart-ass always lurked beneath the brusque receptionist?"
"Yes, but a respectful smart-ass, Mr. Lund, sir."
"You and me are gonna get along just fine, Astrid. Text me your number and I'll be in touch."
I wasn't sure, but I might've seen her saluting in the reflection of the elevator doors.
Since I was already in the building, I figured I might as well clear the next hurdle. I took the elevator to the PR department-my sister Annika's domain.
I bypassed her assistant and knocked on her door before walking into her office. "Hey, sis," I said as I strolled toward her.
"Why, yes, Jensen, please just barge in any time you feel like it. It's not like I'm doing real work here."
Her snappish tone had me pausing midstride. "What the hell is that about?"
She sighed and spun her chair to face me. "Just sharing the loathing, bro. Mondays suck. I'm stuck doing the worst part of this job because I'm the boss."
Annika's mentor and former boss had decided to stay home full-time after her last baby. Since Annika had been second-in-command, she was the logical choice to take over. "What are you doing?"
"Running cost analysis for our two biggest campaigns last quarter." She pointed at me. "Don't think I didn't see your eyes glaze over the instant I uttered ‘cost analysis.'"
I grinned at her. "Busted. But seriously, is this a bad time to talk?"
That was when Annika gave me a quick once-over. "Not that you don't look great all GQ'd up, but what's with wearing the suit in the off-season? Did someone die?"
"Mom said the same thing to me."
"Obviously we're both concerned someone has been drinking Polyjuice Potion and is impersonating you."
"Hilarious."
"Let's sit in the lounge area."
"Look who's all fancy with her ‘lounge' area in her fancy-ass office."
"Shut it or I won't share my almond pastries with you," Annika warned.
"Who made them?"
"I did. I made a shit ton because Axl loves them." She stopped in front of her space-age coffeemaker. "Coffee?"
"You know how to work that thing?"
"Yeah, it's real hard poking the buttons."
After we were settled in with our coffee and pastries, she said, "What's going on?"