“Well, here you are,” Margot announced, coming into the garden. “I’ve been looking all over for you, lazybones.”
“Lazybones?” Dillon was about to point out how hard she’d been working ever since coming home to the farm but realized it would probably just start an argument. She sat up and stared at her mom. “Is something wrong? Is Grandpa okay?”
“No, nothing is wrong. Your grandfather is fit as a fiddle—his words, not mine. But during lunch, he mentioned dinner plans. He’s under the impression you’re cooking tonight.”
“That’s fine.” Dillon stood and stretched. “I don’t mind.”
“Maybe I mind.” Margot placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes, almost like she was looking for a standoff.
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’m trying to get Dad—and all of us—to eat more healthfully, Dillon. Haven’t I made that perfectly clear?”
“Yes. We’re well aware of your nutrition goals. But unfortunately, Grandpa and I don’t care for your kind of health foods.”
“I know.” Margot looked defeated. “And it’s pretty frustrating. After all, I try my best and all I get is complaints and mocking.”
Dillon felt a tinge of guilt.
“I’m only trying to help Dad get healthy so that he can live a good long life. After losing Mom like that . . . well, it was a wake-up call for me. I’ve been committed to a healthier lifestyle ever since.”
“Right . . .”
“But you and Dad—well, you make it impossible.”
Dillon thought hard for a solution. “Maybe if there were a way we could compromise . . . if we could incorporate your health foods with the foods that Grandpa loves . . . maybe we’d all be happier.”
“Right. Like serve my chickpea-kale salad with a big, fat steak?” Her tone was laced with sarcasm.
“That actually sounds good to me. Especially if you slathered your salad with blue cheese dressing.”
Margot rolled her eyes. “What’s the point?”
“The point is you’re never going to get Grandpa to eat your kind of food if you keep shoving it at him. You know how stubborn he can be. You weren’t around when Grandma tried to cut back on Grandpa’s salt intake because she was worried about his blood pressure. He just started sneaking salt on the sly, probably consuming more than he would’ve if she’d just left him alone.”
Margot sighed. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”
“So why not compromise?”
“You really think I can teach an old dog new tricks?”
“It doesn’t have to be new tricks, Margot. I remember how Grandma fixed healthy food and he never complained.” Dillon waved her hand at the bed of salad veggies just sprouting. “They always had fresh produce in the summer. And home-preserved fruits and veggies after that. Isn’t that healthy enough?”
“I guess so. But after Mom died, Dad got into some pretty sloppy eating habits. You weren’t around to see it, Dillon. I walked in once to find him eating a TV dinner that he hadn’t even bothered to heat.”
“That’s not surprising. He was depressed and grieving. He’s doing better now. But how about my suggestion, Margot, why not try a compromise?”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I’m willing to try it. But only if you promise to show some enthusiasm for the foods I bring to the table.”
“Fine. Well, as long as it’s not some slimy green drink with undisclosed ingredients.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know how you and Dad simply adore my smoothies.” Margot’s mouth twisted to one side. “Anyway, there’s something else I want to discuss with you, young lady.” She sat down on the swing, patting the spot beside her with a grim expression.
“What’s that?” Dillon suddenly felt like she was ten years old again.
“Housework.”
Dillon sat down. “Yeah?”
“We’ve noticed that you’ve been neglecting it lately.”
“Well, I’ve been pretty busy with my trailer.” Dillon frowned. “Besides that, I’m not living in the house anymore so why should—”
“You’ve completely moved out?” Margot looked doubtful. “You’re living in that trailer 24/7? Never coming into the house at all?”
“Well, I may have to grab a shower here and there on the weekends, but during the week, I’m at the pool so showers aren’t a problem. And I’ll probably use the laundry room here from time to time. And the kitchen. But I always clean up after myself.” She wanted to add “unlike my mother,” but didn’t.
“Right. So are you suggesting I’m in charge of housekeeping now?”
Dillon shrugged. “Well, you said you moved back here to help with Grandpa. Isn’t that part of the deal? You do live in the house. And since I have my own tiny home now . . .” She tipped her head toward the barn. “Well, yeah, I think you should be in charge of housekeeping. It’s fair.”
“What about grocery shopping? Am I in charge of that too? You eat here.”
“I don’t mind picking up a few things when I’m in town. I’ve brought home eggs and milk and bacon and whatever Grandpa asks—”
“Yeah, more foods that aren’t good for him.”
“Are we going there again?” Dillon slowly stood. “Because I’ve got other things—”
“Isn’t it great to have your own little hideaway?” Margot scowled as she stood.
Dillon smiled, perhaps a bit smugly. “Yeah, it is pretty great. Very comfy and cozy. But it still needs work. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll—”
“Didn’t look like it needed much work to me the other night. What’s left to do? Or is this just your excuse to—?”
“I’m painting the exterior tomorrow. And I still have some prep work to do.” Dillon headed for the gate, which Margot had left open.
“You’re painting that whole trailer? All by yourself?” Margot followed her. “Do you even know how to do something like that?”
“I’ve done the research. I think I can handle it. And I’ve got someone coming to help tomorrow.” Dillon was tempted to keep the news about Jordan to herself, but since it would be obvious by tomorrow, she decided to get it over with. What difference did it make anyway?
“Who’s coming to help?”
“Jordan Atwood.” Dillon waited.
Margot’s brows arched. “Is this some new kind of customer service from the hardware store?”
“No, it’s just a friend helping a friend.”
“Jordan Atwood is your friend?” Margot looked skeptical.
“Sure. He’s a nice guy. I have his nieces in swimming lessons. I’ve gotten to know him and his family a little.”
“And you do know that he’s single, don’t you?” She waved a finger at her. “Are you sure this isn’t something more than just friendship, Dilly-Dilly?”
She let out a long sigh. “He’s just a friend. And it seems that his uncle used to own my trailer so he was curious to see—”