“I hope so.”
“That’s a great plan. And if Margot’s lavender is a success, it should all look pretty. Pumpkins and lavender. I hope I’m still around to see it in the fall.”
His brow creased. “Well, sure you’ll be around, Dillon. You said you’d come home. You’re not going to take off again, are you?”
She forced a smile as she began to clear the table. “Well, it’s hard to say. But I guess time will tell.” She didn’t want to admit to him that sleeping in the living room was already getting old. And even though it was barely two in the afternoon, she was starting to dread that old sofa again. But another more careful check on Grandma’s sewing room had been too overwhelming to even think about. Besides being packed full, she could tell that many of the things in there couldn’t be simply given away or disposed of. There were boxes of old photos and mementoes from family and all sorts of things. Margot had been right about one thing. It would take more than a month to sort through it. Dillon’s best hope of getting her old room back was that Margot would tire of digging in the dirt and go back to Don. Not that it appeared to be happening anytime soon.
CHAPTER
5
For the next couple of days, most of Dillon’s time was spent in Grandma’s garden and greenhouse. Although it was clearly neglected—no one had cleaned it last fall and weeds had started to grow this spring—it wasn’t quite as hopeless as Grandpa had painted it. Thanks to good vents and a drip watering system in the greenhouse, a lot of the sturdier perennial plants were still alive but in need of TLC. And some hardy plants, like kale, were already coming up as volunteers in the garden beds.
Still, it was a challenging project. Probably not as challenging as what Margot had taken on. And it gave Dillon a good excuse not to help her.
“Hello there.” Grandpa opened the gate and looked around. “Well, Dillon, I’m impressed. You’ve made good progress.”
She stood up straight, rubbing her back. “Thanks.” She looked over the garden, which looked remarkably better. “I didn’t realize I liked gardening so much.”
“Must be in your blood.” He pointed to his watch. “It’s past six.”
“And I’ll bet you’re hungry.” Seeing another unweeded section, she was almost reluctant to stop but knew it was quitting time.
“I used to work late this time of year—when the sun stays up so late—but I’m worn out.” He patted her shoulder. “You probably are too.”
“And I never made it into town.” She frowned. “I was going to get bacon and eggs.”
“Don’t worry about that now. But if we don’t get into the kitchen, Margot might start concocting some sort of health food. I don’t know about you, but I’m not eating grass and beans tonight.”
“Let’s beat her to it.” Dillon dropped her spade and hurried out behind him, securely closing the gate since she knew deer could wreak havoc in a garden.
“I got a couple of thick sirloin steaks out of the freezer last night,” he said in a hushed tone as they walked to the house, almost as if they were planning some kind of heist. “They’re in the bottom of the fridge right now, in the meat drawer and out of sight.”
“Hiding them from Margot in case she wanted to throw them out?”
His eyes flashed. “She wouldn’t dare.”
Dillon wasn’t so sure, but just the same she hurried to the kitchen and set to work getting dinner ready. Although she knew Margot wouldn’t touch red meat, she did make extra salad. And hopefully Margot had no reason to ban Grandma’s home-canned green beans and peaches.
“Look at you,” Margot said as she entered the kitchen through the back door. “Making dinner again.” She sniffed. “But what’s that I smell?”
“Grandpa and I are having steak.” She checked the broiler to see they were almost done. “There’s leftover spaghetti if you want to warm it up.”
“You’re letting him eat red meat?” Margot scowled. “If he rolls over from a heart attack, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”
Dillon considered this. “Grandpa’s a grown man, Margot. He has a right to make his own choices. And he’s the one who wanted steak tonight.”
“Humph.” Margot turned toward the sink and washed her hands.
“How’s the lavender project coming?” Dillon asked lightly.
“Well, I thought I got all the sprinkler parts I needed yesterday, but it seems I missed some pieces.” She dried her hands. “It’s aggravating to have to make another trip to town.”
“Maybe I can get them for you to—”
“Oh, would you? Can you get them this evening?”
“I was about to say tomorrow.” She turned off the broiler, leaving the door open.
“But I need the parts first thing tomorrow. I’d be so grateful, Dillon. I’m exhausted.”
“I’m worn out too.” Dillon used the mitt to pull out the broiler pan.
“I’ll clean the kitchen for you.” Margot’s brows lifted. “You can leave right after dinner. The hardware store is open late in the summertime. But only until eight.”
As Dillon loaded two plates with steaks and green beans, she remembered the man who’d helped her with windshield wipers last weekend. Would he be at the hardware store? “Okay.” She nodded. “I guess I can go for you.” Now she called for Grandpa. “We’re eating in here tonight,” she told Margot. “Less work than using the dining room.”
“That’s fine with me.” Margot busied herself at the sink.
“Something smells mighty tasty.” Grandpa rubbed his hands as he came in—then stopped. “What on earth?” he demanded.
“Dinnertime?” Dillon pointed at the table with confusion. “Sirloin steaks, just like you—”
“Not you.” He pointed beyond her with a horrified look. “Your mother.” He marched over and grabbed Margot’s free arm. “What in heaven’s name are you doing?”
Margot held up a colander full of peaches. “Just washing the peaches.”
“Grandma’s canned peaches?” Dillon frowned.
“I’m getting the sugar off.” Margot shook the colander. “Do you have any idea how much sugar Mom used to make—”
“I do not care how much sugar she put into it!” Grandpa declared. “Those are my peaches and that is my sugar and you are not allowed to wash it off!”
“But sugar is like cocaine, Dad, it’ll kill you.”
“And what a way to go,” he growled. “You can eat those washed-off peaches, Margot, but from now on you keep your hands off your mother’s preserves.” He turned to Dillon. “Please, go fetch us a fresh jar, Dilly.”
She just nodded, trying not to chuckle as she hurried to the pantry. Dinner was quiet and somewhat awkward, but Grandpa eventually calmed down. He appreciated his steak—and his peaches as well. When they finished, Dillon reminded Margot of her agreement to clean the kitchen, then excused herself. If she was going to the hardware store—and possibly crossing paths with that Jordan fellow—she didn’t want to look like a grungy old farmhand. And she didn’t want to get there just minutes before closing either.