Ignoring him would be impossible, especially after nearly kissing him. She’d pretty much proven she couldn’t separate her feelings about Alex from work or from— from anything.
Maybe, if she were very careful, she could continue as they had been. The park was coming along. She just needed to— “Right,” she scoffed, because that was working so well.
Again, she pictured them installing the air unit in the tiny trailer, pressed up against each other, holding the air unit over their heads. The thought alone made her stomach jump in a strange and delicious way.
Ugh! She was no ninny, no helpless woman, she would be just fine. Somehow, she’d manage.
Determined to pull herself together, she used the bottom of her T-shirt to wipe her face, then tugged the elastic band from her hair and flipped her head down to run her fingers through the sweaty mass to create a new, fresh bun. Then, even though she still quivered inside like an autumn leaf in the wind, she headed back to her trailer.
Alex had evidently remained inside with the dog, because he was nowhere in sight but his truck was still there.
It took a moment to build her resolve, then she opened the door. Her determination faltered, however, at the sight of Alex. He sat on the sofa with Fish nuzzled by his side. His elbows rested on his knees, and his head was in his hands. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up.
Her breath caught at the look in his eyes. She could see anguish and despair, but equal parts irritation and impatience as well. She caught only a glimpse of his vulnerability before he stood and shoved his hands in his front pockets, assuming his usual confident stance.
Pretending nothing was amiss, she closed the door behind her.
“Sorry about earlier,” he muttered, not making eye contact. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She remained silent, trying not to wring her hands, searching for something to say. Finally, she laced her fingers in front of her and remained silent.
Fish jumped off the couch and sat on Alex’s boot with his nose pointed up to search his master’s face.
“I need to ask you a favor,” Katherine said before she could change her mind.
His forehead crinkled, clearly wondering about her timing.
Already committed, she continued. “I’ll need some help with the trailers.”
His confusion disappeared and was replaced with surprise. “Like what?”
She rubbed her upper arm with her other hand. “Well… I need some appliances hooked up, but I mostly need help installing air units.” She watched his face, measuring his response.
He relaxed a notch. “Go on.”
“That’s it.”
He nodded his head, contemplating her words. “Yeah, I could definitely do that.”
Relief flooded through her, causing her to realize how tense she’d been. “Oh. good.”
“As a matter of fact,” he said, massaging his beard, “I’m kind of interested in the trailer thing.”
Another wave of conflicting sensations washed over Katherine. In the mix, she recognized excitement as well as horror. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, how many trailers do you have coming in?”
The way his fingers caressed his beard was distracting, so she looked at the ceiling and scowled. “Let’s see, next week I should be getting the ’57 El Rey and the ‘63 Shasta Airflyte.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Then after that,” she looked back at him, “I’m not sure when it’s coming, but I’ll be getting in the ‘50 Spartan Royal Mansion. That one is really exciting because it reminds me of the trailer in that movie with Lucille Ball, where Desi buys her a trailer for their honeymoon, and they get stuck… up in the…” Catching herself running away with enthusiasm, she hesitated.
He smiled, charmed by her eagerness. “Go on.”
She glanced away. “It’s an old movie, but the Mansion is about the same year and size as that one,” she explained. “It will be a lot of work, but it should be a good money maker because it can sleep a whole family comfortably.”
“What does a Mansion look like,” he asked, envisioning a miniature country estate, complete with pillars and an east wing, placed on a trailer chaise.
“Well…” her forehead scrunched in thought. “It’s about this size, it’s silver, and it has a bubble window in the door like mine,” she motioned over her shoulder.
His gaze left her face to glance at the door, then back.
“It has a dining table with chairs and a double bed in the back…” Her voice faded.
He waited, amused when her expression faltered at the mention of the bedroom.
“Why?” she probed. She knew he was thinking about the bedroom comment too, but why all the questions? A few days ago he’d seemed to think the whole idea was ridiculous, so what was he getting at? Was he making fun of her? Egging her on?
He shrugged. “I’m just curious. You know a lot about vintage trailers. How did you learn so much?”
She shrugged off the compliment. “Research mostly, but I cut my teeth on this one.”
“That’s right, you overhauled this trailer, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” She said, glad the conversation was firmly back on topic. “But this was more of a rebuild. An overhaul is where you replace broken or missing items, a rebuild is more like knowing you might have to replace everything.”
He grinned. “I suppose so.” He took a moment to admire the shining woodwork and appliances. “What did it look like before? You said you had pictures?”
“I do. Want to see them?”
He nodded, so she fished her phone from her pocket and scrolled through photos. “Here it is.” She motioned for him to come look with her, and he moved to her side, glancing at her face to gauge her discomfort at his closeness.
“This is the day Burt brought it to his shop on the back of a truck. At first, I thought it was really cute. But once I looked it over, I was horrified by its condition, and I wondered if I’d lost my mind.” She pointed to the phone screen. “It had holes in the shell, and the wood was rotting out of the whole front end.”
“But…” Alex’s gaze flew up to inspect the ceiling over the sofa. “It looks perfect now. How—?”
She smiled. “We had to strip it completely down and rebuild it. See the cupboards here,” she pointed to the next photo. “All we could save were the double pinch latches.”
His gaze went back and forth from the photo to the glowing birch cabinets over the sofa. “So, you built those?” he asked, pointing.
“Burt and I did,” she answered, remembering with a cringe how much of the work he’d had to do as she learned. “He did most of those; I worked on the ones in the bedroom though.”
Both of them glanced toward her bedroom, then back. Their eyes met, his with a hint of a sparkle and hers showing horror that she’d even brought it up again. She blushed and ducked her head, watching him through her eyelashes. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she cleared her throat and swiped to the next photo.
“The kitchen was a disaster. All the plumbing had to be replaced.”
He took in the photo, then his eyes wandered to the immaculate kitchen, clean and bright and perfect, aside from their lunch plates in the sink. “Hardly looks like the same room. Did you add the bar?”
She nodded, proud of her work on the smooth, rounded surface. It looked as if it were original to the trailer, and that was important to her.
His brow puckered again.
“What?” she asked, bracing herself for whatever he’d say.
“Nothing, I’m just—curious about the bathroom,” he said, pointing down the hall, showing uncharacteristic embarrassment.
She laughed. “Go look. It’s okay.” She motioned for him to go. “Everyone wants to see the bathroom.”
He hesitated for a moment longer, then sidestepped the cooler as he walked through the kitchen. She stayed where she was, watching as he took in the walk-through bathroom, complete with the original porcelain tub and sink, tiles, and wood
storage cupboards.
“It looks like a tiny ‘50s bathroom,” he called to her in amazement.
“Imagine that,” she laughed.
He touched the shiny aluminum hot water heater box she and Burt had installed over the head of the tub. “What year is this trailer?”
She moved into the kitchen and leaned against the fridge to watch him. “Fifty-four.”
He glanced toward the neatly made double bed, tucked into the center of the tiny bedroom with a birch nightstand on each side, then turned to face her. “It’s like a time capsule, but everything looks new.”
She nodded with a smile. “Well, some of it is.”
“I like it,” he continued, his gaze still roaming over the walls and fixtures. “It has a feel about it.”
“I think so too,” she agreed, caught up in sharing her love of the trailer. But then she had to catch herself from feeling too comfortable with Alex. They seemed to be going back and forth, between doing well and blowing up. She would have to stay on her toes to keep her distance.
* * *
After finishing the lunch dishes, Katherine headed out to do an in-depth inventory on the Aljoa trailer. The heat and humidity were oppressive as she picked her footing across the field toward the trailer.
With her tablet tucked under one arm, she smoothed her hand along the new metal siding Burt had installed, pausing here and there to admire the shining chrome trim he’d refinished and attached, along with the fresh red paint stripe he’d repainted. She especially loved the chrome eyebrow trim over the windows and doors.
Once her list for the outside of the trailer was completed, she tugged open the door and climbed inside. Heat radiated around her in slogging, muggy waves, and she could feel herself break into a sweat. Puffing out a breath to blow stray hairs from her forehead, she hurried to crank open all the windows. A meager breeze came through, but not enough to begin cooling the virtual oven of tin and wood.
Burt had refurbished the stovetop, she noticed, but underneath was an open square space where the new fridge would go. The trailer had originally come with an icebox, but once again, Burt had talked Katherine into an update. Her glamping customers would expect updated appliances, he’d explained, and after a short argument, she’d ordered in the new fridge. It was currently at a fabrication shop in Pittsburgh that specialized in vintage restorations. Even though the fridge was new, she was having an artist of a metalworker install an old-fashioned pump handle and Frigidaire logo on the door to make it look vintage. The finished fridge should be arriving soon, so she noted it on her checklist and moved on.
Above the stove, the still grubby cupboard would hold a new microwave, hidden away from view behind a door. She checked microwave on the list, noting that she still needed to purchase one for this trailer as well as the Santa Fe. Next, she turned to the booth and table in the front of the trailer. Unlike some trailers, this booth was sized for two people instead of four. Since the trailer was tiny, the seats were only one person wide on each side.
Burt had rebuilt the benches, but the cushions were missing. She clicked on the link in her spreadsheet to connect to the information about the upholstering company where the cushions were being recovered. Making a mental note to be sure all was on track, she put off making the call until she was out of the heat.
Turning back to the kitchen, she double-checked the vintage faucet and crank pump handle by the sink. Tapping on her tablet keyboard, she notated that she’d need to have the porcelain sink redone as well as the chrome fixtures. Did she have someone lined up to do that? She couldn’t remember.
Behind the kitchen, in the curved back end of the trailer, were two narrow plywood supports for beds with barely enough space to stand between them. There were no mattresses, of course, and she noted to check up on delivery, but the wood paneling looked wonderful. The back and front of these bubble-shaped trailers tended to have water damage, and she was happy to see that Burt had repaired or replaced all the wood paneling that had been damaged. There were, however, raw wires sticking out of the wall where the flat screen TV would mount into its extension arm. Most of her customers would want to unplug from the outside world, but she planned to offer a DVD player for the customers who wanted to watch the occasional movie, so she clicked on the link for electronics and made a note to check on delivery dates for the TV.
Her eyes were drawn to the bare plywood floor of the trailer, and she bit the side of her lip. This whole thing was starting to feel overwhelming, but she tapped on the link she’d added for vintage style linoleum. She’d ordered it from a home repair chain store in Uniontown, and it should be arriving soon. Installing that would be a big job in the heat. Maybe she’d tackle that after the air unit was installed.
Last thing on her checklist was the bathroom. Originally, the Aljoa didn’t have a bathroom, only a closet, but Burt was a tricky one, and he’d managed to squeeze a toilet, tiny sink, and showerhead into the space, and he had widened the opening to create a better door. The shower was the whole little room, all in one.
Next year her plan was to build a toilet and shower house on the property, but that would have to wait until money was flowing. She didn’t want to leave herself open to cash flow trouble through the winter. This little bathroom would be great for now. People would come to stay, expecting small vintage trailers, after all, so she checked it off her list.
More than ready to escape the relentless heat, she hurried to crank the windows closed, then climbed down out of the trailer. The breeze on her skin was a relief even if it wasn’t cool, and she hurried to get back to her trailer and her tiny but effective air conditioner.
With her mind spinning through all the repairs for the trailer, she didn’t notice that Alex had stopped working to watch her. If she had, she probably wouldn’t have done anything but pick up her pace. She was overheated and pushed to the edge of her limits. Considering all the work she had to complete on the two new trailers, she couldn’t imagine how she’d manage to finish them in time.
* * *
As his truck bounced along the gravel road out of the RV park, Alex glanced over at Fish, riding in the passenger seat. The puppy sat open-mouthed, panting in the sultry evening heat, with his tongue lolling from one side of his mouth. “I know it’s hot, buddy. It will cool off soon, I promise,” he said, as he held his hand in front of the vent, willing the air conditioner to work faster.
Fish didn’t reply, just turned to stand on the seat and put his paws on the door so he could see out the window.
“So, you’re not talking to me now?” Alex asked, his gaze going back and forth from the long winding road to the little dog. “Fine, I don’t need advice anyway,” he muttered.
Fish dropped from the window and turned to face Alex, his googly eyes wide and his ears perked.
“Did you see how I up and grabbed Katie after lunch?” He shook his head in disbelief, then glanced back at the dog. “Just like some reckless kid.”
Fish cocked his head to one side, watching his master.
“Okay, okay, I know you’re a dog, and a kid dog at that,” he said, staring back out the windshield. “You have no idea why I’m an idiot, do you?”
The puppy cocked his head to the other side, considering Alex’s words.
Alex tossed the dog a dirty look. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Woof,” Fish offered in reply.
“I give up, no more conversation,” Alex said, more to himself than the dog. He really could use someone to talk to. At times like this, he wished Hershel was still around. How strange is it that he was working on the old man’s property? You just never knew what life would hand you.
Chapter Twelve
Katherine pushed open the door to the shabby style Boutique on Main Street and glanced up at the bells overhead.
“Come in, come in,” Becky’s sing-song voice called out from the back room. “I’ll be right there.”
Peering through the shop, curious about the wide variety of refur
bished furniture and home goods, Katherine let the door swing closed behind her. She moved through the store, and her fingers couldn’t help but touch the lovely finish on a dresser or to feel the weave of a handmade wreath.
“Oh, Katie!” Becky cried in joy as she shuffled around the counter, with her arms spread wide.
As the older woman descended on her, Katherine stumbled backward until she was stopped abruptly with her legs against the arm of a recovered sofa.
Becky enveloped Katie into a warm embrace, and Katherine hesitantly reached up to offer the older woman a pat on the back in return. She hadn’t been hugged since the funeral, and it felt far too close and intrusive, yet somehow sweet.
Holding Katie out at arm’s length, Becky searched her face. “Where have you been keeping yourself?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. “I’ve been wondering if you’d come in for a visit!”
Katherine could think of no response, so she just smiled shyly and shrugged.
“Well, I’m just so glad you’re finally here!” Becky gushed. “I can close up the shop so we can go to lunch if you’d like. And I can call the girls to join us too! Oh, this will be fun!”
Katherine held up her hand to stop Becky. “No, no really. I’m on my way to Julia’s place to talk with her, don’t do that.”
Becky cocked her head back in surprise, accentuating her double chins. “It’s no trouble.”
“We need to discuss landscaping. Julia and I,” Katherine explained. “I only have a few minutes, I just wanted to say hello while I was in town,” she added, hoping to make it sound like she was being friendly and considerate, even though that was not the case. She’d been perfectly contented to hide out, away from town.
“Well, I’m glad you did,” Becky said with a wide smile.
“You have so many interesting things in here,” Katherine said, motioning toward the shop with one hand. “I didn’t realize you had this place.”
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