“Looks like the coffee’s done.” Dillon got up to pour them each a mug. She added two spoonfuls of sugar into Grandpa’s like she’d always done before she sat back down, bowing her head as he said his usual blessing.
“Good oatmeal,” she said after taking a bite. “I’ve gotten used to the instant microwave kind, but it’s not nearly this good.”
“I added cinnamon just like Marie used to do.”
“Well, it’s perfect.” She smiled. “Grandma would be proud.”
He nodded. “So what do you really think of your mom’s plan to grow lavender?”
“Sounds like an enterprising challenge.” Dillon was starting to look forward to Margot out there digging in the dirt.
“Don’t know that she’s cut out to be a clod-buster.”
“Like you said, hard work is good medicine.”
He chuckled. “Well, I suppose I can always hire some young fellers from town to take over if it proves too much for her.”
“I wouldn’t be in too big of a hurry to do that.” She sipped her coffee.
“Don’t worry. I’m not.” He grinned.
“Besides housecleaning, I was thinking about Grandma’s garden. Does it need any work? I’m a good weeder.”
He nodded. “I started to do some weeding a few weeks back, but it just made me miss her more. I knew she’d have had it all cleaned up and partly planted by now. Peas and beans would be sprouting. She’d be moving plants from the greenhouse. I hope they’re not all dead by now. I don’t even go in there.” He sighed. “The garden and greenhouse . . . well, they were like her sanctuary.”
“I know. But it’s sad to just let them go. How about if I spend some time out there? I could try to bring some order to it. I used to help her out there sometimes.”
“I think your grandma would like that.” His eyes lit up. “You know, Marie always kept her garden diary in the greenhouse. She listed exactly when to plant what and then she’d record how various plants did when she planted them a bit early or late.”
“Yes, I remember that.”
“And she stored a lot of leftover seeds in the freezer chest. Kept ’em in a big zipper baggie. I saw them the other day. I’m sure they’re still good . . . in case you feel like planting.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’m sure it would make your grandma happy too.”
“Great.” She picked up their now-empty bowls. “Looks like we both have our work cut out for us today.”
“And I’m ready to get to it too.” He smiled. “I’m sure glad you came home, Dillon. It’s been lonely.”
She nodded. “I know.”
After Grandpa left, Dillon did a quick cleanup in the kitchen. She was about to dump the last of the coffee when Margot came in. “There’s still coffee if you want.” Dillon pointed to the carafe.
“You can toss that poison. I drink ginger tea and lemon water for breakfast.”
“Oh . . . okay.” Dillon poured the coffee into the sink, carefully rinsing the dark brown streaks from the recently scrubbed white enamel. She rinsed the carafe, then forced a smile for Margot. “Then I’ll leave you to it.” She picked up the bucket of cleaning things she’d gathered to use in the rest of the house. “I’ve got work to do.”
“Uh-huh.” Margot walked like a zombie over to the fridge. Naturally, she was oblivious to how much cleaner the kitchen was. Big surprise.
Eager to escape her mother, Dillon hurried out to the living room and, after a thorough de-cluttering, started in on “deep cleaning,” as her grandma called it. Grandma had taught Dillon the “proper way” to do these chores twenty years ago. During the school year, Grandma managed on her own. But in the summertime, when school was out and Grandma’s time was devoted to her garden, it became Dillon’s job to manage the housekeeping. She well remembered the routine—almost as if Grandma were talking to her now.
First, open the windows and give the curtains a good shake. Next, haul all the throw rugs out to the front porch and vigorously shake them away from the house, then drape them over the railing for some sunshine. Grandma called sunshine “God’s free cleaning service.” After that, sweep the hard floors and vacuum the carpet.
Since she’d also spent a night on the dusty sofa, Dillon decided to vacuum the upholstered furniture and lampshades too. Next she dusted the wood furnishings, followed by a good rubdown with lemon oil. Finally, she ran a damp mop over the hard floor surfaces and returned the throw rugs to their places. Despite the worn furnishings, the room looked much happier now.
Dillon performed similar services in the downstairs bathroom and the master bedroom, which needed a thorough airing and cleaning. The gray, grungy sheets looked like they hadn’t been changed in months . . . maybe not since Grandma had done it. Dillon was tempted to throw them away, but instead she decided to run them and some equally filthy towels through the washer with bleach. If nothing else, they’d make good rags.
It was almost one o’clock as she loaded the washing machine, and it looked like Grandpa was coming in for lunch. “I put some ground beef in the fridge yesterday,” he told her. “I know Margot didn’t use it in the spaghetti sauce last night, but I thought you and me might like burgers for lunch. What d’ya think?”
“Cheeseburgers?”
He smacked his lips and nodded.
She pointed to his dirty hands and shirt. “Why don’t you go clean up? Put your feet up while I fix us some lunch.”
“Don’t worry about your mom. I just noticed her car leaving.”
She grinned. “Good timing too.”
Something about being in this kitchen, systematically fixing food for Grandpa, was so comforting. Like really good therapy. As Dillon served up their lunch, she could hardly believe that she’d felt hopeless and broken up only a few days ago. It felt like a month had passed since then.
As they sat down to lunch together, Grandpa talked about how he’d given his old tractor a tune-up yesterday. “And she’s running like a top today. I’ll have the south field all tilled up by tomorrow.”
“Is Margot going to use that whole field for lavender?”
“No. It’s far too big for that.” His blue eyes twinkled. “I got some plans of my own.”
“Really? What?”
“Pumpkins. It’s a little late, but if I get ’em in soon, they should be ready in time. I just called Atwood’s and asked them to order me a bag of seeds. Supposed to be here in a week or less.”
“Growing pumpkins? Now that’s different. What about Paulson’s Pumpkin Patch? Won’t they resent the competition?”
“George Paulson leased all his land for hay last year. No more pumpkin patch. I remember how disappointed Marie was to hear about it . . . so concerned the school kids wouldn’t have anyplace to get their pumpkins for Halloween. Of course, she passed away in early October . . . so she never found out she was right. Everyone in town was upset.”
“So you’ll have a pumpkin patch.” Dillon smiled to imagine this. “And will you invite school kids out here before Halloween?”