“This story is as sweet and spunky as the title. Melody is gifted at creating characters and settings right out of a Hallmark movie. Enter this charming world and you’ll find yourself believing in fresh starts right along with Dillon.”
Robin Jones Gunn, bestselling author of Becoming Us
Praise for Courting Mr. Emerson
“Carlson illustrates how love can come at any age in her heartfelt latest.”
Publishers Weekly
“Carlson has created a refreshing inspirational romance focusing on mature characters who don’t have every aspect of their lives figured out.”
Booklist
“Clean, light, and full of second chances.”
Foreword Reviews
Books by Melody Carlson
Courting Mr. Emerson
The Happy Camper
FOLLOW YOUR HEART SERIES
Once Upon a Summertime
All Summer Long
Under a Summer Sky
HOLIDAY NOVELLAS
Christmas at Harrington’s
The Christmas Shoppe
The Joy of Christmas
The Treasure of Christmas
The Christmas Pony
A Simple Christmas Wish
The Christmas Cat
The Christmas Joy Ride
The Christmas Angel Project
The Christmas Blessing
A Christmas by the Sea
Christmas in Winter Hill
© 2020 by Carlson Management, Inc.
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
PO Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-2102-2
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Contents
Cover
Endorsements
Half Title Page
Books by Melody Carlson
Title Page
Copyright Page
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2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
Sneak Peek at Another Heartwarming Contemporary Romance
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
CHAPTER
1
Dillon Michaels was fed up—but it wasn’t with dinner. In fact, she was ravenous. And Brandon was late. Again. Dillon hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but her appetite wasn’t simply a desire for food. Despite the tantalizing aroma of mussels and garlic from her favorite house special, cozze in padella, Dillon realized she longed for something more . . . something intangible.
“Will your date be here soon?” the waiter asked—for the third time.
“I hope so.” Dillon forced a smile while she reached for her phone. As the waiter refilled her water glass, Dillon grimaced to see the time. “I’ll text him again,” she muttered. Too embarrassed to look up, she shot Brandon her fifth message.
WHERE R U?
But what she really wanted to say was, Why are you ALWAYS late?
Of course, that raised another question: Why do I always put up with it? She set her phone down, trying to relax as she sipped her water. She was well aware that Brandon was a pro at concocting plausible excuses. But why did she automatically accept them? Why didn’t she believe she deserved better than this? Dillon glanced around the restaurant’s crowded patio. Other couples and families visited congenially, enjoying this unexpectedly warm evening in Colorado Springs. And seated among cheery flower boxes and merry strings of lights at DeMarco’s was the perfect place to celebrate the start of summer. Such a happy scene . . . but Dillon’s frustration was quickly turning to fury, bubbling straight to the surface.
She’d had enough. Snatching up her things, she stood and laid a small tip on the table, signaling the waiter that she was leaving. And seeing relief in his eyes, she ducked her head and hurried out of the popular Italian restaurant. She was nearly to the parking lot when she heard Brandon call her name. With her cheeks still warm from embarrassment, she turned to face him.
“Where are you going?” He frowned. “I thought you made the reservation for—”
“I made the reservation for 6:45,” she shot back. “It is now 7:35 and I am going home—thank you very much.”
“But what about our table, Dillon?” He gave her his feel-sorry-for-me look. “What about dinner? What about me?”
“What about you?” She glared back at him, bracing herself for a showdown. “I’ve had it, Brandon. I’m done waiting on you and—”
“But I couldn’t help it. I was—”
“Save your breath, Brandon. You know this happens all the time. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be the one waiting and waiting and waiting? Why is it that you are never on time? Never!”
“I’m really sorry, Dillon. But I was tied up with a client and we had to get the deal wrapped up before the weekend and it—”
“Yes, that’s what I thought you’d say.” She took a deep calming breath. “And I’m sorry for sounding so angry right now. But I just can’t do this anymore—”
“Do what?” he demanded.
“This.” She wildly waved her arms as if that explained everything. “I’m done, Brandon. I’m not going to keep waiting for you. I’m moving on. I’m finished with you.”
“Oh, Dillon.” His tone turned placating. “You’re hungry and tired. It’s been a long, hard week at work and you just need a nice evening of—”
“No!” She held her palms toward him. “I’m finished, Brandon. I mean it. Don’t try to talk me out of—”
“Fine,” he snapped. “If that’s how you want it. Fine!” He turned, and she could tell by the way he clomped the heels of his good calfskin loafers, he was vexed. But she really didn’t care. She’d meant what she said. She was done with him—finito!
But as she got into her car, she felt a mix of conflicting emotions. On one hand and to her surprise, she was relieved—how incredibly freeing to put an end to a two-year relationship that appeared to be destined for nowhere. On the other hand, she felt a shaky sense of uneasiness. What had she just done? What if she woke up tomorrow morning and regretted this? What if she had to eat her words? To beg his forgiveness . . .
As she drove home, Dillon had no doubts that multitudes of women would consider Brandon a great catch. And maybe he was—if anyone could actually catch him. Good luck! Sure, he was good-looking, had a decent job, was responsible, owned his condo unit, drove a nice car, and even went to church. But Mr. Perfect was afraid of commitment. How many times had he told her that very thing—acting as if
she were the key to unlock that door? But she didn’t want to wait ten years for it!
Dillon would turn thirty-four this summer. And although she’d never confess it, she could hear her biological clock ticking faster and faster each year. She knew this was a by-product of being an only child with a single mom. Since girlhood, Dillon had dreamed of becoming a wife and mother . . . someday. But someday just got farther and farther away. And even if she couldn’t admit her outdated fantasy out loud, she couldn’t deny it either. Not to herself.
As Dillon parked in her apartment complex lot, she couldn’t help but notice how many spaces were vacant tonight. Tenants were probably relishing the beginning of a summery weekend. Maybe her roommates would be out too. Dillon hoped so. Right now she just wanted to be alone—a pity party of one. As she headed for the apartment, she realized Brandon had been right about a couple things. She was worn out from a long, hard week—and she was hungry too. Microwaved lasagna wasn’t the same as mussels and pesto pasta, but it would do in a pinch. Fortunately, she’d stocked up on Lean Cuisine a few days ago.
Dillon heard music as she unlocked the apartment door. That probably meant that Reba was home tonight. Hopefully her boyfriend wasn’t here too. Dillon never knew what to expect from her roommates. They were best friends and she was always the odd one out. It was a good setup a few years ago when she’d gotten a job with the software company. Cheap rent and close to work. But she’d never planned to stay this long.
“You’re home.” Reba sounded disappointed. “I thought you were on your standard Friday night date with Brandon Kranze.”
“I thought so too.” Dillon dumped her bags into a chair then quickly explained about the impromptu breakup.
“You’re kidding!” Reba’s eyes grew wide. “I thought you guys were about to get engaged.”
Dillon shrugged. “I guess I thought so too . . . or I used to. But I gave myself a serious reality check tonight. Brandon has no interest in marriage.”
Reba’s brows arched. “Well, I’m hoping that Jarrod does.” She pointed to the clock on the stove. “And he’ll be here in a few minutes. He’s bringing pizza and we planned to watch a movie.”
“Oh . . . nice.” Dillon opened the freezer part of the fridge. “I’ll just nuke some dinner and lay low in my room.” She poked around, looking for her frozen meals, but only saw a half-empty carton of licorice ice cream, a crusty bag of mixed vegetables, and a frost-covered guinea hen that had been there since Christmas. “Hey, what happened to my Lean Cuisine meals?” she asked Reba.
“Val started her swimsuit diet this week.” Reba chuckled. “She probably ate them.”
Dillon removed the ice cream and firmly shut the freezer door. “Figures!” Grabbing a spoon, she took the carton to her room and changed into her “comfort jammies” before pulling her auburn hair back into a ponytail. Then, even though she disliked licorice, she plopped down on her bed and proceeded to consume every last drop of the gooey, sweet, charcoal-colored ice cream. As she plunked the soggy container into her wastebasket, she caught a shocking glimpse of herself in the closet door mirror. Her licorice-blackened lips and grayed teeth looked strangely stark against her pale skin, which hadn’t seen sunshine due to long work hours. And with her hair pulled tightly back, her dark blue eyes looked even larger than usual—resulting in an image that could easily land her a zombie role in a horror flick. Attractive. Hearing Reba and Jarrod out in the living room, Dillon didn’t want to frighten them by going to the hall bath to brush her teeth and wash her face, so she simply crawled into bed and turned out the light. Feeling pathetic and hopeless and lonely, she cried herself to sleep.
The sound of her phone’s jingle dragged her back into consciousness. Assuming it was the wee hours of the morning, she felt a jolt of concern as she grabbed up her phone—was it Brandon? Was he sorry? But seeing Margot’s name on caller ID, Dillon braced herself for bad news. The last time her mother had called late at night was to inform her that Grandma had passed away.
“Who died?” Dillon demanded without even saying hello.
“No one died, silly Dilly.” Margot’s tone was light. “Why would you even say such a thing?”
“Well, it’s the middle of the night and—”
“Middle of the night? Good grief, it’s not even nine o’clock yet.”
“Oh? Well, uh, I thought it was, uh, later.” Dillon turned on her bedside light.
“Don’t tell me you were already in bed. What are you—like, eighty?”
“Funny.” Dillon didn’t hide her irritation. “So why are you calling me? What’s up, Margot?” She’d called her mother Margot for as long as she could remember. She couldn’t even imagine calling her Mother. That would be just plain weird.
“Maybe I simply want to hear my little girl’s voice.”
“Right . . .” Dillon rolled her eyes. Margot rarely called for any reason—certainly not to hear Dillon’s voice. “How’s Grandpa doing?”
“As a matter of fact, that’s partly why I’m calling.”
Dillon sat up in bed, concerned. “Is he okay?”
“Well, I don’t know—”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong exactly, Dilly. But I think he misses your grandma.”
“I’m sure he does. It’s only been about eight months. But I’d hoped he was getting over it.”
“I’m not so sure . . . I think he’s depressed and I’m worried about his health. His diet is atrocious, he’s letting the farm go and staying in bed too long.”
“That doesn’t sound like him.”
“Well, he is getting old. Do you realize he’ll be seventy-seven soon?”
“I know—I already got a birthday card for him. But he’s always been so active and energetic and young for his age. I can’t imagine him sleeping in when the sun is up.”
“You haven’t seen him lately, Dilly. Don’t forget, you didn’t even come home for Christmas.”
“That’s because I’d taken that time off for Grandma’s funeral in the fall. And I couldn’t get more time for Christmas—”
“I know, I know. I also know you’re a hopeless workaholic, Dillon. I just don’t understand how it happened, though. I certainly didn’t raise you that way.”
“That’s for sure.” Dillon was assaulted by an unwanted flashback from her childhood—a sad snapshot of herself and Margot living on child support, food stamps, and government handouts. It wasn’t until Dillon moved to her grandparents’ farm as a teen that she eventually quit worrying about her next meal.
“Well, there are things more important than work, Dilly. Like having a life. Do you ever think about that?”
“Yeah . . . right.” Dillon wanted an excuse to end this conversation.
“So how are things with Brandon? Any wedding bells yet?” Margot’s voice tinkled with sarcasm.
“For your information, we broke up.” Dillon instantly regretted disclosing her personal news.
“Broke up? But I thought he was your Mr. Right.”
“More like Mr. Not-Right-Now.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Dilly.”
Unwilling to continue down this path, Dillon inquired about her mother’s boyfriend. “Are you and Don still together?”
“Just getting ready to celebrate seven years.”
“Congratulations. And I can probably assume you’re not hearing any wedding bells either.” Dillon knew that Margot and Don had no intention of marrying—ever. Just one more irritating element of her mother’s nontraditional lifestyle.
“Don and I don’t need a piece of paper to prove our love for each other, Dilly. You know that.”
Dillon rolled her eyes again, but she’d asked for it, so why cringe over Margot’s worn-out answer? “Back to Grandpa—do you really think he’s depressed? Should he see a professional or something?”
“You mean like a shrink?” Margot laughed. “Can you imagine your stubborn grandfather talking to a shrink? Or taking antidepressants?�
��
“No . . . not really. But I hate hearing that he’s unhappy. I wish I could come out there to see him. Maybe for his birthday.” Even as she said this, Dillon knew it was unlikely. It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford the airfare, but after recent layoffs and cutbacks, getting a few days off work was a major challenge.
“Oh, that’d be sweet, Dilly. He’d love to see you. He was just saying how much he misses you.”
“Tell him I miss him too. Give him my love.” Dillon felt close to tears again. So much for thinking she’d been cried out.
“I’ll be sure to tell him. And I hope you’re not feeling too miserable over Brandon. I never wanted to say anything, but based on what you’ve told me, he sounded too good to be true. I’m glad you found it out before it was too late.”
Even though Margot was partially right, Dillon wasn’t ready to hear those words just yet—especially from a woman who had never committed to a marital relationship. So Dillon told her goodbye and shut off the light. Lying there in the darkness with only the muffled noise of an action movie for company, she longed for an escape. But what exactly did she hope to escape? After all, she’d already jumped ship from a two-year relationship with Brandon. Shouldn’t that be enough for one day?
But she still longed for something more. Or maybe it was for something less. She wasn’t quite sure. Maybe she simply wanted to escape from herself and her dreary little life for a while. Thankfully it was the weekend, but even the thought of some time off brought no comfort. As she lay there, listening to the thumpity-thump of the film’s explosives in the living room, she realized she was stiff as a board, clenching her fists, and probably would be grinding her teeth before long. Her dentist had warned her this was problematic and had recommended a bite guard for sleeping. Although she promised to think about it, she’d also started to practice calming exercises before bedtime.
But deep breathing and happy thoughts were not working tonight. So she turned to prayer, begging God for some serious help. It was the first time in a long time that she’d asked God to direct her path—but that’s exactly what she said. Because Dillon had no idea where her life was headed—for all she knew it was about to go over a cliff. Admittedly, it wasn’t much of a prayer, but it was heartfelt, and when Dillon whispered amen, she felt slightly more at ease. Like Scarlett O’Hara said, tomorrow was another day.
The Happy Camper Page 1