“Have you tried out the appliances or the furnace?” He opened the propane oven and looked inside.
“Not yet. But it’s next on my to-do list. After the exterior painting. But I figured I’d probably need to get an expert to look at it.”
“Maybe not. I just happen to have a spare propane tank in the back of my pickup. Maybe later on, we can hook it up and give it a try. But we’ll have to blow out the gas lines first. They tend to fill up with tiny spider webs.”
“Really? But how do you blow them out?”
“Air compressor. I’ll bet your grandpa has one.”
“So, you know a lot about vintage trailers?”
“I doubt I know too much more than you do. Well, maybe mechanically. But it sounds like you’ve been doing your research. It’s a good way to learn . . . as you go.” He closed and fastened the fridge door. “What about towing? Ever done that before?”
“Towing?” She considered this. “You mean like on the road?”
His smile looked amused. “Yeah. Like camping.”
She cringed. “No, I’ve never towed . . . or camped.” She didn’t want to admit that her small car probably couldn’t pull anything bigger than a bicycle trailer. “Mostly I just wanted the trailer to live in . . . well, until I figure things out.”
“What kind of things?” He tilted his head to one side.
“You know, life . . . job . . . where I’m going to live.”
“I thought you were living here.”
“Yeah, well, I am . . . for now.”
He pointed upward. “Speaking of now, we’re burning daylight. Want to get started?”
“Absolutely.” She nodded. “I’ve got all the paint stuff outside, but I’ll warn you again, this is new to me. Other than painting the interior, I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Well, I painted my mom’s house last year. I doubt this is too different.”
“Just smaller.”
He nodded, surveying the trailer’s exterior. “Looks like you’ve got it good and ready to go. I watched a couple how-to tutorials last night.” He turned to her with a confident smile. “I’m sure we can do this, Dillon.”
Before long, he’d unloaded some drop cloths and a few other things he thought would be helpful from his pickup. Soon they were making good progress applying the first coat of paint. Like the tutorials recommended, they applied a thin coat that dried quickly. “It’s looking nice and smooth,” Jordan said as he stepped back to admire their work. “It might turn out to be almost as good as a professional job.”
“Almost?”
“Well, it’s hard to beat a pro spray job.” Using a paint rag, he gently wiped a fresh spot of paint off her chin. “For a beginner painter, you’ve managed to keep yourself fairly tidy.”
“That’s probably because I’m so much slower than you.” She pointed to the large section he’d just finished. “You got twice as much done as me.”
“Well, you were being more careful. And you had to use the stepladder.” He stretched his arm to show his height advantage. “I didn’t.” He checked his watch. “At this rate, we should have the first coat finished in a couple of hours. And with the sun hitting this side, it might even be ready for a second coat later today.”
“That reminds me.” Dillon pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket. “I promised to let Margot know when to serve lunch.”
“Serve lunch?” His eyes lit up.
“Well, don’t expect too much. My mom is kind of a whacky cook. I begged her to spare us from her health food obsession. Made her promise to grill some real meat. No tofu burgers.”
He grimaced. “Good for you.” He dipped his brush in the bucket and went back to work.
Dillon texted Margot that they would be ready for lunch at one, then joined Jordan, painting with a bit of conversation here and there. Dillon thought this was the most pleasant work she’d ever done. But she knew that had something to do with her painting partner.
“You say you’re trying to figure out your life,” he said as he turned a corner on the trailer. “What is it you think you want to do?”
“I’m not sure.” She briefly explained about her previous job. “I never liked my job. I just stuck with it because it seemed the responsible thing to do. And because I had college debt to pay off. Fortunately, I got that taken care of last year.”
“So you enjoy techie work then?”
“To be honest, I only got a computer degree because everyone said that was the surest way to get hired. And, sure, I got a fairly decent job. But I didn’t like it. And despite long hours, I couldn’t move upward in the corporation.” She sighed. “I’m so glad to have it behind me.”
“But now you don’t know where you’re going?”
“Yeah. I don’t really see a career in teaching swim lessons.”
He laughed. “Well, you’re good at it. You have completely won my nieces over. I can’t believe the progress they’re making. I really thought Chloe was a lost cause.”
“We definitely had our moments.” Dillon remembered hoping Chloe wouldn’t return to class. Now she enjoyed both the girls.
“I suppose I sort of felt like that about running the store after my dad got sick.” He paused from painting to adjust a drop cloth. “At first it felt like an unwanted interruption to my life. But then I started to settle in. And now I like it. I feel like I’m where I should be. I really do enjoy small-town life.”
“I do too.”
“Speaking of small-town life, when was the last time you were here for a Fourth of July celebration?” he asked. “That’s one of my favorite Silverdale events, and next week’s celebration promises to be a good one.”
“It’s been ages. Probably not since graduating college. I used to come home during the summers, to help on the farm. I always looked forward to seeing my friends on the Fourth.”
“You were smarter than me. Once I went off to college, I hardly ever came back home. I thought I was a big city boy then. And Silverdale was just a Podunk, one-horse town.” He paused to dip his paintbrush. “Took me quite a while to figure it all out.”
“What did you do after college, before you moved back home?”
“I worked in marketing.” He chuckled. “Which is just a fancy name for selling and advertising. I guess I thought I was pretty clever back then and the salary and benefits were motivating, but I wouldn’t go back to that now if they paid me millions.”
“Kind of like my old job,” she said. “Not that anyone would’ve paid me millions. But I was upset when I left it, worried I’d made a huge mistake. Now I don’t regret it at all.”
“Sometimes a life needs to get shaken up . . . in order to put the pieces together right.”
She paused from painting. “Are you quoting someone, or did you just make that up?”
He laughed. “I guess my old smart-aleck marketing man is still in there somewhere.”
“That didn’t sound like marketing talk to me.” She shook her head. “It sounded like plain old wisdom.”
“Well, I suppose if life kicks you around enough, you better get smarter. Get smarter or get beat up.”
She laughed now. “There you go again. Maybe you should write these things down, Jordan. You could make little plaques and sell them at the Silver Slipper.”
“For folks to hang in their vintage trailers?” he teased back.
“I could probably use some of that wisdom on my walls,” she confessed.
They continued to visit and exchange friendly banter . . . and before they knew it, they’d finished the first coat and it was almost one.
“Time for lunch break.” Dillon pulled off the old bandana she’d used to tie her hair away from her face and shook her head.
“Wow.” Jordan’s eyes grew wide. “You should see your hair in the sunlight. It’s like, well, I’m not sure. But kind of like fire or autumn leaves or something.”
“Like burning leaves?” she joked.
“Sort of.” He s
miled. “It’s pretty.”
She felt her cheeks warm with the compliment. “Thanks,” she murmured as she opened the trailer door. “I’m going to clean up for lunch. Feel free to go into the house if you want to clean up too.”
“Sure.” He nodded, but remained in front of the trailer, just looking at her.
Unable to think of anything to say, and feeling very self-conscious, she turned and hurried inside. Unless she was mistaken, Jordan Atwood was into her . . . maybe not as much as she was into him . . . but something was definitely happening. And it filled her with such a great degree of hope that she felt like singing and dancing as she scrubbed the white paint speckles off her hands. She didn’t even mind the cold water coming out of the bathroom tap. And maybe Jordan would help her figure out the hot water heater too. Yes, as her grandma used to say, this was going to be a red-letter day.
Since it was getting warmer outside, she changed into cooler clothes. Not exactly painting clothes, since it was a good pair of khaki shorts and her favorite T-shirt. Hopefully, she’d keep them free of paint—if not, it would be worth it. She even paused to rub some lotion into her arms and legs, admiring the golden tan she’d acquired at the pool recently. She knew that some people would lecture her about sunscreen and all that, but according to her research, the jury was still out—and sunshine’s vitamin D was a good cure-all for many things.
As Dillon finished up with a bit of lip gloss and a touch of mascara, she heard a knocking at the door. Thinking it was Jordan, she opened it, smiling in anticipation. But to her complete and horrified shock, it was not. She was literally speechless and tempted to shut the door and pretend this was just a bad dream.
Instead, she just stared at Brandon Kranze, dressed in a navy blue suit like he was on his way to meet an important client or pose for GQ. He had a bouquet of red roses in his hand and a huge smile on his face. “Dillon, darling!” he exclaimed. “I’m here!”
CHAPTER
16
Although everything in Dillon wanted to slam the door and crawl under her bed, which was impossible since there were cabinets beneath it, she managed to utter a mechanical-sounding greeting. “Hello?”
“It’s so good to see you!” Brandon beamed up at her.
“What are you doing here?” she stammered.
“I’m here for you.” Brandon came up the step, trying to look over her shoulder and peer into her trailer. “Is this where you’re really living?”
“Yes.” She nodded firmly, not budging from her hold on the front door. “This is my home.”
“Oh, Dillon.” His tone was patronizing. “That is so incredibly sad. I’m sorry. I feel like this is all my fault.”
“What’s your fault?”
“That you’re living in poverty like this.”
She glanced behind her. “But I love living here.”
“You always were a glass-half-full sort of girl, weren’t you? I like that.”
She frowned. “I still don’t understand why you’ve come.”
“I told you, Dillon. I came for you. I want to repair our broken bridge and—”
She held out a bare foot. “Uh, excuse me, I need to put on some shoes.” She nudged him off the step, pulled the door closed and even locked it. Then with rubbery knees, she sat on the edge of her bed and picked up her sandals. As she struggled to put them on, her brain was whirling. What on earth was she supposed to do about this? Of all the people she did not want to see! And today of all days! Why was he really here? And how was she going to get rid of him?
Knowing she could delay the inevitable no longer, she took in several deep, calming breaths and, hoping to appear more poised, stepped out of the trailer. “I still don’t quite understand why you’re here,” she told him in a level tone. “How did you even find me?”
“I got your Grandpa’s address from your old roommate, Val. She refused at first, but I assured her I only wanted a chance to make things right with you, Dillon.” He held out the roses again. “Forgive me?”
“Of course. All is forgiven.” She wanted to add that changed nothing, but instead, she took the roses. Brandon obviously had forgotten that of all rose colors, red was her least favorite. And she had no intention of putting them in her trailer. Besides disliking that harsh color, the roses would look ridiculous in there. Just like Brandon looked ridiculous in his fancy suit on her grandpa’s farm. But, standing there, speechlessly holding the detested roses, she didn’t know what to do next.
“Margot invited me to lunch,” he said lightly, as if this were just another day. “In fact, she said to tell you to hurry. She’s already putting it on the table.”
“Uh, right.” Dillon looked at the roses. “Let’s take these into the house.”
As they walked toward the house, Brandon made small talk, acting like there was nothing the least bit strange about this unexpected visit. Dillon said nothing.
“There you are,” Margot called out as she carried a jug of tea down the back-porch steps. “I told Brandon where to find you, Dilly. Isn’t it nice he could pop in like this?”
Dillon tossed her mother a sharp glance, as if she were somehow responsible for this debacle. “Here.” She held out the roses to Margot. “You take these inside and I’ll take the tea. We’re under the aspens, right?”
“That’s right. Ooh, these are so pretty. I’ll put them in a vase for you.”
“And do you need any more help bringing things out?” Dillon asked hopefully. “I’m sure Brandon wouldn’t mind giving you a hand.”
“That’s okay. I only have one more thing. You guys go out and join Jordan and Grandpa, and I’ll grab the burgers. I was keeping them warm in the oven.”
“I didn’t know I was coming to a party,” Brandon said cheerfully as Dillon led him to where the old picnic table was draped with an old-fashioned tablecloth and nicely set. Even with flowers from the garden. Margot had outdone herself. Not that any of this mattered, because Dillon knew that lunch was ruined now. At least for her.
She set the jug of tea on the table and introduced Brandon to Jordan. “And you remember my grandpa,” she said to Brandon.
“Yes.” Brandon shook both their hands, lingering with Grandpa. “From two Christmases ago. Before Dillon’s grandmother passed. I’m so sorry for your loss, sir.”
Grandpa just nodded, then exchanged concerned glances with Dillon.
“I’m as surprised as anyone,” Dillon said lightly as she sat next to Jordan. “I had no idea Brandon was paying us a visit. No warning whatsoever.”
“That’s because I wanted to surprise you.” Brandon sat beside Grandpa. “You see, I had to meet with a new client in Bend yesterday.” He unfolded a cloth napkin, another reminder that Margot had really pulled out all the stops. “It was such a short drive over here, I thought why not make a weekend of it?” He grinned at Dillon. “I suppose I was thinking about all the times I’d let you down by not showing up when you expected me. I thought you deserved to be surprised by my arrival today.”
“Well, you certainly did that.” Dillon turned to smile at Jordan, but his expression was hard to read. “Although you didn’t pick the best day for an unexpected visit. You see, we’re painting my trailer today. Jordan’s been helping me. And we really need to continue working on it after lunch. So I’m sorry to say I won’t be able to spend any time with—”
“I’ll help you paint,” Brandon offered, and before Dillon could respond, Margot appeared, setting a big platter of burgers in the center of the table.
“I realize it’s nothing fancy,” she said as she sat down. “But at least it’s not tofu burgers.”
“Everything looks really nice,” Dillon told her.
“I’ll say grace.” Grandpa bowed his head.
As Grandpa asked a blessing, Dillon prayed too. She prayed that Brandon would take the hint and disappear after lunch. But as they began to eat, it was clear that he was trying to ingratiate himself to everyone at the table. Even Jordan. He talked and acted as if
he and Dillon had never broken up. As if she hadn’t left him and anything to do with him behind in Colorado. For good.
Then, acting like the center attraction, Brandon talked about himself and his job, bragging about how successful yesterday’s business meeting had gone, and saying how much he liked Oregon, although Colorado had better mountains.
“Yes, but we have the ocean,” Dillon countered.
“I know. And I remember our plan to see the Oregon Coast together,” he said without missing a beat. “Hopefully we can do that someday. Maybe we can drive from Colorado. I’ve heard it’s a beautiful drive through Utah and—”
“I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “But you seem to be under the impression that I didn’t leave Colorado for good, Brandon. I have no plans to go back there.”
“Well, I’m sure you felt that way when you left. But you made such a rash decision about that. Really out of character for you. And you took off so quickly that you never gave anyone time to talk you out of it.”
“It was simply time to go,” she said in her defense. “I wanted to come home.”
“I agree you were probably overdue for a visit, Dillon. And it’s nice you’ve had this time. But I’m sure you don’t know how much you’ve been missed at work. By LeeAnn more than anyone.” He redirected his conversation to the rest of the table. “LeeAnn was Dillon’s boss. She told me that Dillon was her right-hand girl.”
“More like her slave,” Dillon said sullenly.
“LeeAnn admits she may have taken you for granted. But she assured me that if you come back, she’ll not only give you a promotion, but a substantial raise as well.”
“I don’t care about that anymore,” Dillon declared. “I’m done with that job.”
“Maybe you’re being too hasty,” Margot said with concern. “You really should give yourself time to consider that offer, Dilly.”
“Dilly.” Brandon chuckled. “I forgot about that nickname. So cute. So fitting.”
Dillon wanted to throw her iced tea in his face but controlled herself. To her relief, Grandpa redirected the conversation by talking to Jordan about his pumpkin patch. And then Margot told Brandon about her lavender project, describing the kinds of products she planned to make after the first harvest. Somehow, they managed to work through a very awkward lunch. Despite Margot’s best efforts, Dillon barely touched her food. While everyone else was finishing up, Dillon’s stomach felt like she’d swallowed a brick.
The Happy Camper Page 12