Dillon knew she was being extravagant—something she’d never been before—but she didn’t care. In the same way she was giving her trailer a makeover, she was making over her way of thinking. She had entered a new era of life—a time for reinvention, taking risks, spontaneity, and fun!
By the time Dillon saw the grand total, she was glad for three things. First, she was getting a 20 percent discount today. Second, she had enough in her bank account to cover this “investment.” And third, she would be gainfully employed by Monday.
CHAPTER
9
After she’d loaded her car with what Vivian said was “trailer treasure,” Dillon drove back to the hardware store to pick up her paint and the other items on her list. Of course, she was hoping to bump into Jordan, but although she perused almost every corner of the store in search of her needed odds and ends, he was MIA. Unfortunately, she was unable to think of any good reason to inquire as to his whereabouts, so she went ahead and checked out. More than anything, she was eager to get back to her trailer. It was getting late in the day, and she really wanted to work on it some more.
After parking out by the trailer, Dillon decided to leave her lovely purchases from the Silver Slipper in her car. Her vehicle could double as a temporary storage unit, and she would simply unload the tools and supplies she needed for now. She took each item out of its packaging, lining up tools and hardware in happy anticipation of their use.
She was eager to see her turquoise paint on the cabinets but knew it was late in the day to start that task. And Ryan had warned her not to rush it. He’d even written down preparation tips about sanding and such, suggesting she remove the cabinet doors and hardware. “And be sure to number everything so you can get it back into the right spots.” He’d even suggested she get a rechargeable screwdriver to make it easier. “It’s a handywoman’s best friend,” he’d assured her.
It was past six by the time she’d removed all the doors and hardware and, hoping that Margot wasn’t already concocting some sort of health meal, she decided to call it quits. She knew Grandpa would prefer some real food. Plus, she didn’t want him to think she was too distracted with her little Oasis to help him anymore. That would be a sorry sort of thank-you.
Before going into the house, Dillon stopped to survey the lavender field. The young plants were set into neat rows and evenly spaced apart. Even though it wasn’t really her project, she felt a sense of pleasure to know she’d helped. And it was reassuring to see the soil still moist from the drip lines.
Grandpa called out a greeting as he strolled over from the barn. “Looks pretty good, don’t it?” He squatted down to pinch the damp soil.
“Yeah, I was just thinking that.” Dillon glanced over to the section where Grandpa had been working today. “How’s your pumpkin patch coming?”
“Well, I just finished tilling a bunch of old steer manure in. To beef up the soil.” He chuckled as he slapped dirt off his hands. “Steer . . . beef. Get it?”
“Uh-huh.” She smiled. “Very funny.”
“Tomorrow I’ll make planting mounds. Pumpkins like to be a little elevated so they can grow downward. After that’s done, I’ll move irrigation pipes into place. And hopefully my seed will be here by Monday. Not a moment too soon.”
“I’ll bet you’re hungry.”
“I put some T-bones in the fridge to thaw last night. Thought we could throw them on the barbecue. How’s that sound?”
“Delicious. I’ll get the rest of supper going if you want to grill the steaks.” She glanced toward the house. “Hopefully Margot won’t freak over the smell of charred meat.”
“Well, she did complain about cooking those hamburgers for the boys today.” Grandpa chuckled. “But when she saw how appreciative they were, I think she got over it.”
It wasn’t long before the steaks were done. And since Margot did voice her opinion against the “carnivores,” Dillon and Grandpa opted to eat outside, leaving the kitchen to Margot. As they ate, Dillon told Grandpa about all her plans for her trailer, and he made some suggestions and offered the use of some tools and things in the barn. “Sounds like you got your work cut out for you.” He picked up the bone from his steak and chewed on it.
Dillon laughed. “You might call it work, but I call it fun. I can hardly wait to get back at it.”
“Well, you’ve got electricity hooked up, so you’ve got lights. I suppose you can fuss with it this evening if you like.” He set down the bone and slapped his midsection. “That was just what the doctor ordered.”
Dillon grinned as she gathered the plates. “Don’t let Margot hear you saying that.”
“I know. She’ll lecture me on my cholesterol again.”
As Dillon carried the dishes into the kitchen, she smiled at Margot. “I didn’t say anything before, but your lavender field looks spectacular. You must be proud.”
Margot’s face lit up. “You think so?”
“Absolutely. Those boys did a great job. And it’ll be fun to see those plants in bloom.” She rinsed the dishes, loading them into the dishwasher. “It really was a great idea to grow lavender.”
“Well, thank you.” Margot sighed. “It’s nice to hear some appreciation.”
Dillon made a bit more pleasant small talk while cleaning the kitchen, then headed for the back door.
“Where you going?” Margot asked.
“Just outside.”
“To look at my lavender field?”
“Uh, no . . . well, I guess.”
“Then I’ll come with you.”
Dillon wanted to make an excuse—find some way to ditch her mother. “I, uh, I thought I’d take a little walk too . . .”
“Oh, good. I could use a walk. And it’s such a lovely evening.”
And so with Margot by her side, Dillon walked around the farm, making more pleasant small talk and trying to think of a way to part from Margot and go work on her trailer, but as they came around the back of the barn, Margot noticed Dillon’s car.
“Why’s your car parked way over here?” Margot asked.
“I, uh, I just thought it was a good spot.”
“What is that by your car?” Margot continued walking toward the loafing shed, and now the vintage trailer was in full view.
“Just an old trailer.” Dillon grimaced.
“I didn’t know Dad had a camp trailer.”
“His buddy Jack left it to him,” Dillon said.
“That was real nice,” Margot said with sarcasm. “Probably cheaper than taking it to a wrecking yard.”
“It’s actually a vintage trailer,” Dillon said defensively.
“Nowadays anything old is vintage.” Margot picked off a piece of flaking paint. “What a mess.”
“Well, it happens to be my mess.” With hands on hips, Dillon faced her mother. “And I happen to like her.”
“Her?”
“Whatever.” Dillon stood protectively in front of the trailer. “I didn’t expect you to understand.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand. Why are you saying this is your mess?” Margot peeked inside Dillon’s packed car. “And what is all that? Looks like you went on some huge shopping spree.”