Further evidence that she was the “right” sort of girl, in his parents’ eyes. But Logan told himself not to let that prejudice him. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “How about we—”

“Hey, Dad!” Charlie piped up, motioning him over to the table. “Check it out. I’m Mr. Potato Head.”

Charlie had decked himself out at the salad bar, with rings of green pepper for eyeglasses, a cherry tomato nose, carrot sticks for vampire teeth.

“Oh, that’s brilliant,” Logan said. “And so appetizing.” He turned to Darcy as she set her plate down at an empty place. “My son, Charlie, the boy genius. Charlie, this is Darcy.”

“Nice to meet you.” With the firm, direct manner Logan had drilled into him, Charlie made eye contact and stuck out his hand. The effect was ruined by the stickiness of his hand.

Logan felt Darcy stiffen as she briefly took the grubby little hand. “Hiya, Charlie,” she said. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is André,” said Charlie. “He’s got a frog in his pocket, so watch out.”

“You weren’t supposed to tell,” André said, though he was clearly proud of his find.

“André and Charlie have been buddies this summer,” Logan told Darcy.

“BFFs,” Charlie said. “We made a blood oath.”

“Not with real blood,” André said. “With ketchup.”

“Sounds tasty.” Darcy discreetly wiped her hands with a napkin. “So, are your parents here, André?”

“My mom’s coming up tomorrow. I wish I didn’t have to go back to the city.”

André’s mother, Maya, worked as a nanny in Manhattan. André claimed she spent more time with her employer’s kids than she did with her own.

Logan could relate to the situation from a different perspective. He’d been the employer’s kid, once upon a time. His parents, busy with work and social obligations, had been distant yet powerful figures in his world, a dynamic he was determined not to pass on to his own son.

“They look like a great pair,” Darcy said, watching André and Charlie fencing with their forks.

He nodded. “They’re going to miss each other after this summer. Last night I signed them both up for a Skype account so they can talk to each other on the phone.”

“That’s nice.”

“I’m nice. Didn’t my sister tell you?”

“She didn’t need to. You just did. Seriously, that’s a kind thing to do.”

During the banquet, the speeches were mercifully brief. Olivia and Connor Davis, who managed Camp Kioga, gave a quick welcome before handing the mic to Sonnet Alger. Sparkling with enthusiasm, Sonnet welcomed the families and friends of the campers.