CHAPTER
12
The next day at the pool went more smoothly for Dillon. Her first classes were much the same, and then to her relief, her last class went better. Chloe appeared to be actually trying. Reluctantly perhaps, but at least she was willing to go waist deep in the water. Perhaps it was because Janelle remained at the pool for the entire lesson. Whatever, it was an improvement.
“You did great today,” Dillon told Chloe as class ended. She clasped the little girl’s hand. “I’m really proud of you.”
“You are?” Chloe blinked.
“Yes. You were very brave.” Dillon waited for the other children to clamber out of the water, then slowly led Chloe toward the steps where Emma waited. “I really do think you’re going to be a mermaid someday.”
“Like Ariel?” Chloe’s eyes lit up.
“Yes. Do you know that The Little Mermaid used to be my favorite movie,” Dillon told both girls as they stood on the bottom step. “Do you like it too?”
They both nodded eagerly.
“Do you remember how eager Ariel was to live outside of the water?” Dillon asked. “That’s how I used to feel too.”
“You wanted to live out of the water?” Emma looked confused.
“No. In the water. I wanted to be a mermaid. That was the first time I took swimming lessons. Right here in this pool. And I’ve been swimming ever since.”
“I’d like to be a mermaid,” Emma said.
“Do you think I could ever really swim?” Chloe asked Dillon. “For real.”
“I know you could swim. You just have to learn.”
“Like me,” Emma said. “Did you see me floating today, Chloe? Just like a real mermaid.”
Chloe frowned. “I can’t do that.”
“Not now,” Dillon said. “But you can learn.”
Janelle held up their bag. “Come on, girls. Don’t make Dillon stay late.”
“It’s okay.” Dillon took both girls by the hand, leading them onto the deck. “And both girls did their best today,” she told Janelle. “They get a good report.”
“Wonderful.” Janelle smiled brightly. “Thank you.”
Dillon was relieved that Jordan wasn’t the one picking up the girls today. She hurried over to the locker room to grab a shower. Her plan was to pay the Silver Slipper a visit. She wanted to show Vivian the “after” photos of her little trailer and ask for some advice.
Fortunately, Grandpa had confirmed to Dillon that the Oasis trailer truly was hers. Over breakfast, he assured her that had been his intention. “And I’ll dig up the title and sign it over to you,” he promised. “I know both Jack and Rose would be pleased to see how you’ve rescued it.”
“At least the inside of it.” She frowned. “I’m not sure what to do about the exterior.”
“Paint it.”
“But how?”
“With paint.” He grinned. “I’m always painting my farm equipment. Sometimes I use spray paint. Sometimes I just get a heavy-duty metal paint. It’s not hard to do. As long as you do the prep work first.”
“Do you really think I could paint it myself?”
“Don’t know why you couldn’t. You sure did a nice job on the inside.”
“Thanks to online tutorials.”
“Well, I’m sure you can find some tips on exterior painting too.”
“Okay,” she told him. “I guess I’ll look into it.”
But first she wanted to visit the Silver Slipper. And, according to Vivian, there were various schools of thought on the subject. “Some people insist that only a professional paint job is good enough. But I know others who’ve done it themselves with great results. You just need to do it right.”
“I’m sure I can find some online help for that. I found it for everything else so far.” Dillon paused to show her pictures of the renovated interior.
“You’re a whiz!” Vivian declared. “I can’t believe how quickly you turned it around. Impressive.”
“I suppose I was sort of desperate.” Dillon confessed about her less-than-ideal sleeping quarters in the living room. “But I slept like a baby last night.” She asked Vivian a few more questions and showed her a list of items she thought her trailer might still need. Vivian recommended various products and websites. “But you can get some of those things at the hardware store. Jordan carries a lot of standard trailer and RV stuff. That section is clear in the back of the store.”
“Oh, yeah . . . right.” Dillon had no desire to visit the hardware store, but since a couple was asking Vivian for help, she thanked her and headed down the street, hoping that Jordan might be on a lunch break just now.
Since she didn’t see Jordan as she entered Atwood’s, she went straight to the back of the store. There, sure enough, was a fairly large RV section. Before long, she’d gathered up several items from her list. She was just picking out a fresh water pressure relief valve when Jordan walked up. “Can I help you?” he asked with a surprisingly warm smile.
“I think I found what I’m looking for.” She held up the package.
He looked confused . . . or maybe amused. “Is that for your irrigation system?”
“No,” she said curtly. “This is for my camp trailer.” She dropped it into her cart.
“Oh.” He nodded. “You have a camp trailer?”
“Yes.” She pointed to the package of RV toilet paper in her cart as if proof. Then immediately felt embarrassed.
“Well, that’s great. What kind of trailer is it?”
“An old one.” She started to roll her cart—as in, hint, hint.
“How old is it?”
She thought about that. “Well, it’s older than me. That’s for sure.” She attempted to do the mental math, then gave up. “It’s well over fifty years old.”
His brows arched. “Really, that old?”
She nodded, trying to think of a way to curtail this pointless conversation and escape.
“Vintage?” He set a hand on her cart, as if to detain her.
“Yes, I guess you could say that.”
“What make?”
She wondered why it mattered, but told him it was an Aloha.
“Aloha?” He frowned. “What model?”
She told him it was an Oasis, thinking he’d probably assume it might look like an Arabian tent, at home in the desert.
“What year Oasis?”
She tipped her head to one side. “I, uh, I think it’s 1964.”
“With a cab-over?” he asked.
“Cab-over?” She made a confused frown.
He made a high wavy motion with his hand. “You know, it would hang over the pickup bed. Just slightly. But it’d have a bunk inside it. Right over the dinette.”
She blinked. “Yeah, it’s exactly like that.”
“Cool.” He nodded. “And does it have a tiny bathroom in the back corner? Barely big enough to stand in?”
“Yes. But how can you possibly know so much about a 1964 Oasis?”
“Because my uncle used to have one like that.”
“Oh.” She nodded.
“Yeah, I used to go hunting with him. I slept in the cab-over bunk. Pretty cool since it had its own windows. Always loved Uncle Jack’s old trailer.”
“Uncle Jack?”
“Yeah. Jack Martin. He passed away last year.”
“Jack and Rose Martin?”
“That’s right.” He nodded. “Aunt Rose moved to the coast and—”
“Jack left his old trailer to my grandpa,” she said somberly. “They used to be hunting buddies.”
“Oh, that’s right. I remember now—your grandpa went hunting with my uncle sometimes. Man, those were good ol’ days. Just the guys out in the woods, hunting elk or deer. Or if no game showed up, just shooting the bull and eating great food.” He rubbed his chin with a wistful look. “Seriously, you have Uncle Jack’s old trailer?”
She bit her lip, suddenly worried that Jordan, like her mom, might feel he had some sort of ancestral right to
her trailer. What if he thought his uncle should’ve left it to him—or he wanted to contest the will? “Yeah, well, my grandfather gave it to me last week,” she said quickly. “I’ve been fixing it up.”
“Well, good for you.” His smile looked genuine. “I’m sure it needed some serious TLC.”
She felt slight relief. “Yeah, it’s been great working on it. Kind of therapeutic.”
“Therapeutic?” He peered closely at her.
She felt her cheeks warm. “Well, cathartic or something. I just left a job and everything behind in Colorado. I guess I needed something to occupy myself.”
“You mean besides teaching swimming lessons?” His brows arched with obvious amusement.
“Yeah, that’s not really my career choice. Just filling my time.” She stood up straighter. “By the way, Chloe made impressive improvements today. I was very pleased with her.”
His eyes lit up. “That’s great news. I meant to tell you this, but I didn’t want to say it in front of her. Chloe had a real scare last summer. She fell into the deep end of the pool and, thanks to one of those floating alarm devices, she was rescued. But ever since then, she’s been totally paranoid of pools. And it was starting to affect Emma too. That’s why Janelle insisted on lessons this summer. But it’s a challenge for Janelle because of work demands. And the nanny doesn’t drive. Which is why I’ve been picking up the slack some.”
Dillon nodded. “I wondered if something had happened to make her so fearful. It actually helps to know this. Thanks.” She pointed to her cart. “Well, if I’m going to get any work done on my trailer today, I better get going.”
“And if you need any pointers or any—”
“Jordan?” a guy called out from the other end of the aisle. “Delivery question—we need you in back.”
Dillon thanked him and rolled her cart away. It rattled her that Jordan was being so nice and friendly. A bit too friendly. Or else was she just being overly sensitive . . . because of her earlier assumptions? Whatever the case, she was glad to get away from him.
CHAPTER
13
By Friday morning, after much online research, Dillon’s mind was made up. She was going DIY. She would paint her own trailer—and save thousands of dollars. At least that’s what she hoped. She’d already spent several hours sanding the metal siding, masking the windows, and removing hardware and lights, until she finally felt like this was a task she could handle. And after looking at her bank balance, she knew it was belt-tightening time.
Her plan was to take each step slowly and carefully—and she would get the recommended paint products. To this end, she found herself at the hardware store on Friday afternoon. Relatively sure that Jordan wouldn’t be there since he’d just picked up the twins at the pool—on time for a change—she’d hurried to Atwood’s. Now with paint samples of a nice milky white and a medium-toned turquoise picked out, she was explaining her DIY plan to Ryan the paint guy.
“You’re seriously going to do it all by yourself?” he asked.
She nodded. “That’s my plan. It’ll probably take my whole weekend, or longer, but I don’t care. It’s worth the savings. And I’ve seen great photos of trailers that were painted this same way.”
“Well, I’d like to see your photos when you’re done.” Ryan put the first gallon of paint in the shaking machine.
“Then you will.” She glanced over her shoulder, still worried that Jordan might pop in and start offering his opinions . . . and really, she didn’t want any more advice. And she didn’t want to see him. She just wanted to get her little trailer looking as sweet on the outside as it was on the inside. And her plan was to start painting first thing tomorrow morning.
“Well, hello.” Jordan, with the twins still wearing their swimsuits and cover-ups, noisily entered the store. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Dillon. Painting something?” He leaned on the paint counter with a curious expression.
Before she could answer him, the twins yelled out happy greetings, running over to hug and greet her, treating her like their long-lost best friend, and giving Dillon an excuse to momentarily ignore their dad. “Did you girls get your ice cream treat for doing so well in class today?” she asked them. “Because you were both fabulous.”
“Nope.” Emma firmly shook her head. “Not yet!”
“Silly Uncle Jordan said we had to come here first,” Chloe explained with equal exasperation. “He’s s’posed to check something.”
“Uncle Jordan?” Dillon couldn’t help but repeat this.
“Yeah.” Chloe nodded. “He said no ice cream till we’re done here.”
“Hurry up, Uncle Jordan.” Emma poked him in the back. “We need ice cream.”
“Patience, please.” He turned around, kneeling to look at the girls. “Tell you what, ladies, I’ll let you pick one thing from over there.” He pointed to the snack rack beside the register. “As long as you promise not to tell your mother.”
They gave their word and were immediately distracted with the colorful assortment in the snack section, instantly arguing about which was the best choice.
Now Jordan smiled at Dillon. “So Ryan tells me you’re painting your Oasis.”
Too flustered to answer, she simply nodded. Was Jordan really the uncle—not the dad? Not Janelle’s husband? Had Dillon simply jumped to the wrong conclusion?
“By hand?” he persisted.
“Well, I was planning to use brushes and rollers,” she said dryly.
He chuckled. “Yeah, I figured that much.” He pointed to the can already mixed. “Well, you’ve got the right product for it. As long as you follow the manufacturers’ recommendations, you should be okay.”
“What recommendations do you mean?”
“For instance, you need the right temperature. Not too hot. Not too cold.”
“Right.” She nodded. “Well, I plan to start painting tomorrow. And I think the temperature is supposed to be fairly moderate this weekend.”
“Need any help?”
“Help?” She still felt off-kilter. “What kind of help?”
“Well, to be honest, I’d like an excuse to see the old Aloha Oasis. But I can be a pretty hard worker too. Two of us painting would make it go a lot faster. Might even wrap most of it up in a day. A long day.”
“Really? You’d do that for me?”
He nodded. “Sure. It’d be fun.”
She still felt uncertain about his relationship with Emma and Chloe. Sometimes divorced moms would call their boyfriends “uncles.” What if that was the case here? She glanced to where the girls were still making their selections. “So Emma and Chloe are your nieces.” She tried to sound casual. “I kind of assumed you were their dad.”
He grinned. “Well, I’ve probably stepped in like a dad at times. Especially after Janelle’s husband stepped out a couple years ago. I try to make myself available.”
“So Janelle’s last name is Atwood too?” Dillon hoped she didn’t sound nosy, but she’d double-checked the roster the day after Jordan had picked the twins up. “Does that mean she was married to your brother then?”
“No. My baby sister was married to a jerk. She took back her maiden name after an unhappy divorce. Can’t say I blame her either.”
“I see.” Dillon felt a rush of pure joy. So Janelle was Jordan’s sister. Of course, it all made sense now.
“Paint’s ready,” Ryan announced.
“Great!” Although Dillon no longer felt the need to hurry, she turned to pick up the cardboard box of paint cans, but Jordan beat her to it, carrying it over to the register. “Have someone help her out with this,” he instructed the cashier.
“Thanks,” Dillon told him.
“So what time then?” He waited.
“What time . . . ?” She still felt dazed.
“When do you plan to get started tomorrow?” His eyes brightened. “Or maybe I should ask, when’s breakfast?”
“Breakfast.” She nodded. “How does seven sound?”
&
nbsp; “Perfect. I’ll see you then.” He went to check on his nieces, and still feeling stunned, Dillon paid for her purchase. But as Ryan carried her paint out to her car, she wondered . . . This news still didn’t guarantee that Jordan wasn’t married. What if she’d simply jumped from one wrong conclusion to another? She opened the hatchback, waiting as Ryan set the box in. “Thanks.” She smiled nervously. “Uh, can I ask you a question?”
“You bet.” He nodded.
“Is Jordan Atwood married?”
“Nope.” Ryan laughed. “He’s not. Some people claim he’s the most available bachelor in Silverdale, but if you ask me, the dude’s unavailable.” He closed her hatchback.
“Unavailable?”
He nodded. “No girl’s been able to catch him. And, trust me, plenty are trying. Including my older sister—until she gave up. Now, instead of calling him an eligible bachelor, she calls him an eternal bachelor.”
“Oh, well . . .” She smiled stiffly, trying to think of something else to say.
“Yep. We see it all the time in the store. Females coming in here for random items that we doubt they really need.” He laughed. “One lady will buy something one day then return it the next. She really gets some bang for her buck.”
“Well, you don’t need to mention that I asked.” She attempted to appear nonchalant. “I was just curious. You know, because his nieces are in my swim class, and I’d mistaken him for their dad. Anyway, have a nice day, Ryan. Thanks.”
By the time she got behind the wheel, her cheeks felt overly warm and flushed. And it wasn’t from the sun either. In fact, her sunburn had settled into a nice golden tan. But as she drove through town, she could imagine Ryan informing Jordan of her inquiry. And why not? They could share a good laugh over it.
Well, at least she knew the whole truth now. Jordan Atwood was not married, and according to Ryan, he was not available. As she turned down the farm road, she wondered if Jordan was simply another Brandon—emotionally unavailable and afraid of commitment. The eternal bachelor. Leave it to her to be attracted to another guy like that! When would she learn?
The Happy Camper Page 10