Dillion gives me a sympathetic look. “The town can be pretty covetous when it comes to keeping the people who live here employed. They like to give the summer jobs to the kids who go away to college, sort of incentive to keep them coming back, you know?”
“That makes sense. I didn’t understand how big the divide was until today.” But now that I think about it, I can see why the woman at town hall was so brusque with me. “Oh, and I saw your friend Tawny at the hardware store when I was picking up paint.”
Dillion stops chopping peppers. “Oh? I hope she was nice to you.”
“She made a comment to Aaron asking if I was a project from the other side of the lake.”
“Oh my God! She did not!” Dillion slaps her hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
“He told her I was Van’s sister, and she was super nice after that. Invited me out for drinks with you if I’m ever around on a Wednesday.”
“Ahhh. Okay. That’s good. Tawny isn’t a fan of the McMansion ladies.”
“I gathered as much. Aaron said something about not being like that anymore. Do you know what that’s all about?” I don’t know why I care so much about the negative way he seems to react to me, but maybe this has something to do with it.
“Aaron has a reputation for keeping the women on the other side of the lake entertained between the sheets.”
“Oh. Is that a bad thing?”
“Not if you’re one of the women from the other side of the lake, or at least those are the rumors. I don’t know how much of that is true and how much isn’t. But there are stories floating around. We joke about him mowing lawns, and we’re not referring to their grass, if you know what I mean.” Dillion rolls her eyes.
“Huh. Well, that’s . . . something.”
“Don’t be feeding Teagan the town gossip when you don’t know if any of it is actually true.” Van points a pair of barbecue tongs at Dillion as he grabs the steaks from the fridge.
“He doesn’t refute it,” Dillion replies with a shrug.
“But does he confirm it? Think about that.” Van pushes out the front door, leaving me with more questions than answers about Aaron.
After dinner I leave Dillion and Van and go up to the apartment. They told me at least six times I didn’t need to go, but I faked a few yawns and told them I was tired. I’m not, but I want to watch a few DIY painting and wallpapering videos.
My mind is churning. Now that I have this new job, even if it’s only part-time, my plan to quit my job in Chicago is that much more real. And I’ve already said yes to working on Wednesday, so no matter what, I’m committed to being in Pearl Lake.
I don’t want to upset my dad, but it’s not like this is the first time I’ve talked about wanting to try something different. I take my mind off the problem I’m going to have to tackle come the end of the weekend by watching a few video tutorials, which turns into two hours of videos, and then, because I don’t want to go back to worrying, I grab an energy drink from the fridge and start the arduous and time-consuming job of taping the walls so I can paint them without being concerned about going outside the lines and having to do a million touch-ups.
Of course, once I start something, I’m compelled to finish it, so I lay down several drop cloths, change into a shirt and shorts I don’t mind getting dirty, grab the ladder that Aaron left here, and get out the paint supplies.
By the time I’m finished painting two walls a deep, mustardy yellow and I’ve tidied up after myself—I use the kitchen sink to clean the brushes and rollers—it’s closing in on three in the morning. I quickly rinse off in the shower, amazed at how much paint I’m wearing, take my medication, and try to wind down enough that I can go to bed.
I opened all the windows while I was painting even though the stuff I bought says it’s low odor. It’s chilly with the night breeze blowing through, but at least the paint smell isn’t too overwhelming. I wrap myself in a blanket and scroll through Pinterest, looking at the images I’ve pinned, gathering new ideas for the rest of my space. I’m excited to put up the wallpaper tomorrow and start decorating. And as nervous as I am about telling my dad I’m quitting my job at Smith Financial, I feel good about taking the time to figure out exactly what I want to do with the rest of my life.
I don’t wake up until nine, which is late for me. I make the trek to my brother’s cottage—which I should probably stop referring to as a cottage, since he lives here now—and make myself a coffee.