The Happy Camper

by Melody Carlson

  Dillon gave a quick explanation of her relationship with Brandon and how he’d come out here to win her back. “But I told him it was pointless.”

  “Why?” Chelsea looked shocked. “What’s wrong with him?”

  As Dillon touched up some makeup, wondering why she bothered, she briefly explained Brandon’s history of “unavailability.”

  “He doesn’t seem unavailable now, Dillon. Maybe you should give him a second chance.”

  Dillon shoved her lip gloss back into her bag. “But I feel like we’re through, Chelsea. Like, been there—done that. Not again.”

  “Nice that you can be so choosy.” Chelsea glumly shook her head. “At our age, I find it refreshing to have any interested and available male pursuing me.”

  “Our age?” Dillon frowned. “We’re in our early thirties, girlfriend.”

  “Early maybe—but pushing mid,” Chelsea teased.

  “Whatever.” Dillon rolled her eyes. “Excuse me for not feeling that desperate for a guy. Not at the moment anyway. And I plan to let Brandon know.”

  “Hey, speaking of desperate.” Chelsea grabbed her arm before she exited the locker room. “I wanted to ask if you were going to the Fourth of July dance tomorrow night.”

  “Well, I wanted to go to the usual festivities during the day. It’d be fun to go to the dance too.” Dillon didn’t want to admit that she’d been hoping Jordan would ask her. Especially since he’d raised the subject on Saturday. But now it seemed hopeless.

  “Then let’s go together,” Chelsea said. “That way we won’t look quite so desperate. We’ll just be two single girls having a good time. Okay?”

  Dillon gave her a thumbs-up. “Sounds great.” And as she went out to the lobby, she couldn’t help but smile with amusement at this irony. Brandon was waiting on her for a change. “Hope I didn’t take too long.” Her tone was teasing.

  “Not at all.” His eyes twinkled. “I’m sure there were plenty of times I made you wait lots longer.”

  “So you really do remember that?” she asked as they went out to the parking lot.

  “I’m embarrassed to admit I do remember.” He paused to look into her eyes. “And I really am sorry. I hope you believe me, Dillon.”

  She felt uncomfortable. Her brain felt impaired by Brandon acting so nice. But was it sincere? “I, uh, need to put my swim bag in my car,” she told him. “Where did you plan to have lunch? Maybe we should just meet there?”

  “I made a lunch reservation at a place called McLaughlin’s. A woman at the hotel highly recommended it. She said the food’s fabulous, and they only serve lunch in the summertime.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of McLaughlin’s before. But I’ve never been there.”

  “Great. Let’s take my car. Because according to my GPS, it’s a little bit of a drive.”

  Before long they were going down the highway and Brandon was still being disturbingly polite. “The hotel lady told me the restaurant’s next to Silver Lake. And that it looks like an old log cabin lodge.”

  “Sounds charming.”

  “She said they have a patio that overlooks the lake. And I know how you always liked to eat outside in the summer.”

  “It’s a nice day for it too.” Despite herself, she was getting into this. It was nice to be treated like a lady for a change. Still, she planned to keep up her guard. Initially she’d imagined them grabbing a bit of lunch at a food cart. She’d have a quick meal and listen to Brandon’s farewell speech. But this was feeling like a date. Well, whatever. At least there’d be good food involved. And if this is what it took to cut her ties with him, so be it.

  CHAPTER

  20

  Dillon could hardly believe how charming McLaughlin’s was—not just the natural beauty of snowcapped mountains behind a clear blue lake, but the lodge and restaurant were rustic perfection. “I feel like I just stepped into another world,” she told Brandon as they waited outside for their table.

  “I’m sorry that took so long.” The hostess led them to the patio. “But the Silverdale Chamber of Commerce is having lunch upstairs. They always meet here this time of the month. And that keeps us hopping.”

  “No problem,” Dillon told her. “I can’t think of a more beautiful place to wait.”

  “Here you go.” She stopped by a lakeside table set for two. “Enjoy.”

  “This place is gorgeous.” Brandon slowly sat down, staring at the shimmering lake. “I hate to say it, Dillon, but I’m starting to imagine how Oregon could win me over from Colorado.”

  “Really?” She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad news.

  Brandon chuckled. “Just don’t tell my mom I said that.”

  “How’s your mom?” She laid her napkin in her lap.

  “She’s fine, which reminds me, she really misses you, Dillon.”

  She felt a stab of guilt to think of his mother. Brenda Kranze would’ve made a wonderful mother-in-law. They’d immediately hit it off and, after a year of dating Brandon, Brenda had begun discussing wedding plans with Dillon. Like Dillon, she’d assumed a marriage was inevitable. Of course, Brandon’s dad was a different story. He was domineering and chauvinistic, and Dillon had never felt comfortable with him.

  “Be sure and give your mom my best,” she told Brandon.

  “She was pretty upset that you never told her goodbye, Dillon. You know how much she likes you.”

  “Please, tell her I’m sorry about that . . . maybe you can explain how upset I was at the time. You know, losing my job and everything.” She sighed as she gazed over the pine-tree fringed lake, wishing she could put those memories to rest. “This is so lovely, Brandon. Thanks for bringing me here.”

  “It really is special. Isn’t it?”

  She waited as the hostess filled their water glasses. “Can I ask you a favor?”

  “Sure. Anything,” he agreed.

  “How about if we don’t talk about what went on in Colorado while we have lunch? Let’s not try to figure things out, or replay the past, or even try to predict the future. Let’s just be here and now. Okay?”

  “Okay.” He lifted his water goblet to toast. “I’m totally down with that.”

  She clinked her glass against his. “Thanks. It’s such a gorgeous day and a pretty place . . . I’d love to just enjoy it.”

  “And the company is gorgeous too.” His brows arched. “I know you dislike compliments, Dillon, but I’m not kidding when I say you’ve never looked prettier. I don’t know what it is . . . Oregon, or being home with your family, or what, but you look more beautiful than ever.”

  She felt her cheeks warm and quickly changed the subject by telling him about her swim classes. Even describing Chloe and Emma and how badly it started out with the troubled twins. “But then everything smoothed out. And now I just love those two little girls.”

  “That’s just one more thing I admire about you, Dillon. You have such a gracious heart toward everyone.”

  “Thank you.” Once again, she changed the topic. She told him all about her vintage trailer and how therapeutic it had been to restore it. She described how it had looked before and some of the tasks she’d performed to renovate it. She knew she was probably boring him, but he hid it well.

  “I still can’t believe you’re so talented at restorations.”

  “Thanks to all the DIY videos on the internet.”

  As they ate, she told him about the pickup Grandpa was giving her and how she couldn’t wait to clean it up and make it shine. Of course, she didn’t mention it was an early birthday present. She didn’t want to remind him of that . . . didn’t want to give him any incentive to stick around longer than necessary. Already, she felt concerned he’d stayed too long. But at least he’d be back in the Springs by the end of the week.

  To Dillon’s pleased surprise, their lunch date passed quickly and painlessly . . . and rather enjoyably. And the food was fabulous. By the end of the meal, she was almost having second thoughts about Brandon . . . almost. The drive back
to town was quiet, but it didn’t feel like a strained silence. Finally, they were standing by her car in the swimming pool parking lot. “Thanks so much for a really enjoyable lunch,” she told him as she unlocked her car.

  “Thank you,” he said brightly. “You made it that way.” His smile faded. “You’ve also made it harder than ever to tell you goodbye like I’d planned to do.”

  “I’m sorry, Brandon.” She really did feel bad for hurting him. And her antagonism toward him had evaporated. “You know,” she said slowly, “I hope we’ll always be friends.”

  He frowned. “I wish we could be more than that . . .”

  “I know.” She nodded. “Don’t take it wrong, but I’m relieved not to hate you anymore.”

  “You hated me?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, sort of. I mean I tried to forgive you. I told myself I’d forgiven you. But it didn’t happen all at once. I think I’m over it now.”

  His smile returned. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “So what are your plans? When do you go back to the Springs?”

  “Friday.” His eyes lit up. “Which means I’m here all day tomorrow for the Fourth festivities. I assume you’ll be around for it too. Right?”

  “Of course.” She nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “I heard there’s a really great dance in the evening. Any chance I can talk you into going with me?”

  “Sorry.” She firmly shook her head. “I already have a date.”

  His lower lip jutted out. “Let me guess. That hardware store dude who tried to give me painting lessons?”

  She laughed. “Nope. I’m going with my old BFF. Chelsea Willits and I plan to go stag together.”

  He brightened. “So maybe I can snag a dance or two with you? If I promise to mind my manners?”

  “I think that could be arranged.” She glanced at her watch. “But I really need to go. Grandpa promised to get my pickup running this afternoon. And he wants to teach me how to drive three-on-the-tree.”

  “What’s that?”

  She laughed and explained how the gear shifting worked in the pickup. Then, promising to see him tomorrow, she hopped in her car. But before going home, she made a quick stop at the hardware store. This was not an excuse to see Jordan either. At least that’s what she told herself as she parked in front. She’d gotten tired of using a dirty old barn broom in her trailer. She felt that Rose deserved a daintier broom and dustpan, as well as a nice welcome mat to put outside the front door. Of course, if she bumped into Jordan, she wouldn’t complain. But by the time she checked out, she knew that wasn’t happening. She didn’t like being paranoid, but she did wonder if he was avoiding her.

  As she drove home, she told herself it didn’t matter. She did not care. Mostly she wanted to find out how her “new” vintage pickup was doing. Had Grandpa managed to charge the battery, or was there more to be fixed? She hoped and prayed that Jack wouldn’t turn into a money pit. But seeing the pickup parked in front of the house, her spirits lifted. And right next to it was Grandpa’s truck and some jumper cables already connected.

  “Ready to try it out?” Grandpa asked as Dillon got out.

  “You bet.”

  Grandpa told her to get into his truck and what to do. “Hope this works.” He carried the other ends of the cables to her truck. “Fire it up as soon as I give you the signal.” Before long, he was in the cab, yelling at her to start it up, and after a few tries, Jack was running.

  “Let’s let ’er idle awhile,” Grandpa said as he revved up Jack’s engine. He disconnected the jumper cables. “You go park my truck by the barn, and in about ten minutes, I’ll give you your first driving lesson.”

  She parked his truck, then, feeling the afternoon heat baking into her, ducked into her trailer to change into cutoffs, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes. Within a few minutes she’d gone out to see Grandpa dropping the hood of her pickup. “Jack’s rip-roaring to go now.” He went to the passenger side, telling Dillon to take the wheel.

  Next he explained how three-on-the-tree worked, taking her through each step. After a lot of trips around the farm—which included some loud grinding of gears—she was finally able to go up and down the farm road without too much trouble.

  “You drop me at the house,” Grandpa told her, “but keep that engine running to get that battery good and charged.”

  “How long?”

  “Just take ’er for a nice long spin—” he paused—“I mean him. I put some gas in, so you won’t have any problem there. Why not drive Jack to town? Get yourself some ice cream or something, then drive around some more and come back.”

  “Okay.” She nodded, glad that her phone was in her back pocket—just in case she needed a tow truck. “Here I go.” Thinking through the positions for shifting, and when and how to change gears, she cautiously continued down the driveway. Really, it wasn’t that hard. In fact, it was fairly easy. And then she realized it was fun. Driving her old pickup with the windows open, hair flying in the breeze, she didn’t feel midthirties like Chelsea had suggested. She felt sixteen again. And it was awesome! Like this was what life was meant to be—and she planned to embrace it.

  By the time she was rolling into town, she’d gotten three-on-the-tree down pat. And although she knew she shouldn’t be hungry after that fantastic lunch, Grandpa’s suggestion of ice cream sounded like a good reward. Especially since it was a hot afternoon and the old pickup didn’t have AC. She didn’t really mind that. But ice cream did sound cool. She parked on the street in front of the Cream Cup, Silverdale’s oldest and best ice cream and burger shop, then got in line at the window—along with the Fourth of July tourists. It took a few minutes, but when she saw her soft-swirled vanilla cone, she knew it was worth it.

  Feeling pleased with herself, she carried her ice cream back to the pickup. But since she was not confident enough to eat and drive, she opened the tailgate and sat down on it, watching the holiday traffic and remembering how she used to do this very thing as a teenager. Kicking the heels of her tennis shoes, she felt so right. Like she was exactly where she needed to be at the moment. And she didn’t need a guy by her side. Not Brandon. Not even Jordan. This was more than good enough, and she planned to savor it.

  Finally her ice cream was gone and it was time to restart the pickup. But it only gave out a strange little growl . . . and then nothing. She tried again. Nothing. “Oh, Jack,” she said. “What’s wrong?” As she got out of the pickup, wondering what to do, she noticed a familiar pickup coming down the street toward her. An old red pickup, with Jordan Atwood at the wheel. She made a halfhearted wave, and he stopped on the opposite side of the street and hopped out. To her dismay, Vivian Porter was sitting in the passenger seat, peering curiously at Dillon.

  As Jordan crossed the street toward her, she almost didn’t recognize him. She’d never seen him in a tie and jacket—and wondered why he was so dressed up. She also wondered about Vivian. She looked dressed up too. But Dillon didn’t want to ask.

  “Is this Uncle Jack’s old Chevy?” Jordan’s brow creased.

  “Yep.” She nodded glumly. “But it’s not running.”

  “Then how did it get here?” He tilted his head to one side.

  She quickly explained about Grandpa charging the battery and telling her to take it for a drive. “I got an ice cream, and now the pickup won’t start.”

  “You didn’t shut down the engine, did you?” His expression suggested that would be an idiotic thing to do.

  “Yeah,” she confessed.

  He shook his head with a grim expression. “Well, that’s not how you recharge a battery, Dillon. Didn’t you know that?”

  “If I had known it, do you think I would’ve done it?” She wasn’t quite sure why she felt so exasperated at him, but she did. It felt like he was criticizing her . . . or maybe he just resented her having his uncle’s pickup. Whatever it was, it didn’t feel good . . . or right. And for the first time since meeting Jordan, she didn’t like him quite so much
. Not only that, but she felt funny standing next to him in her shorts and T-shirt—with him looking like a city slicker.

  “Well, if you don’t know much about an old pickup, why are you driving it around?” He removed his sports coat and loosened his tie with an aggravated expression.

  It didn’t help that Vivian was now getting out and coming over. “What’s up?” she asked as Jordan headed back to his pickup.

  “Broken down,” Jordan tossed back at her.

  “I, uh, think it’s the battery,” Dillon told Vivian.

  “Good thing we came along.” Vivian frowned in a way that suggested she didn’t approve of Dillon’s ultra-casual attire. Or maybe it was just Dillon’s imagination, since Vivian looked even more chic than usual.

  Jordan put his coat and tie in his pickup cab. Then, after rolling up the sleeves of his light blue shirt, he began to rummage through the big chrome toolbox in the back. Finally, pulling out what looked like jumper cables, he headed back.

  “Jordan is always prepared for anything,” Vivian told Dillon.

  “Lucky for me.”

  “I’m going to pull my pickup over there,” he called out as he got back into his cab. Before long, he was parked alongside her—but still in the street. He jumped out and lifted her hood.

  “You’re blocking traffic,” Dillon pointed out.

  “Then you get out there and direct them,” he told her. “Hopefully, this will be quick.” But it took a few minutes for him to get everything hooked up, and although traffic wasn’t too busy on this side street, there were still a couple of cars waiting to pass when he yelled at her to get back in her truck. “Hurry,” he yelled. “You know what to do?”

  “Yes,” she shouted back.

  “Vivian, you get into my truck and start it up for me, okay?”

  “You got it.” Vivian hurried around to the driver’s side.

  And with Jordan directing them, Dillon’s truck was running again a few moments later. Without turning it off, she got out and watched as Jordan removed the cables. As she thanked him, she noticed he’d gotten grease on his shirt. But before she could apologize, he was looping the cables over his arm and waving at the cars still waiting to pass.