Base Camp could hold only so many people, but Boone was very involved with a group who were drafting resources for others who might want to form similar communities. Riley knew how important it was to him to pass on any help he could to those just starting out. Fulsom was making grants available to those needing to purchase land. She had no doubt in the next few years other groups would replicate what Base Camp had done.
She liked to focus on more local, intimate things. Boone shared the responsibility of watching Jason, of course, and there were always plenty of hands around to help out in a pinch. Everyone had drawn up a roster of child-care hours. With twenty-two of them, including Byron and Leslie, who weren’t pregnant yet but were determined to do their share, it was easy to divvy up two-hour shifts. With two people watching the kids at any given time, that meant each of them pulled one shift about every other day, leaving them with plenty of time to get to their other chores.
“I’ll be quick in the shower and get coffee on while you take your turn,” she told Boone. Downstairs, she hesitated as she passed the large canvas on an easel in one corner of their living room area. Fitting in time to paint wasn’t always easy, but she’d amassed enough work to secure her first public showing in town. Her audience would be local. While she was far from gaining fame from her paintings, she’d come a long way from the days when she didn’t pick up a brush for months at a time.
She had more to inspire her these days, as well. As she worked in the greenhouses, or explored the ranch with Jason and Boone, ideas percolated in her mind. She found herself tuning her palette to the colors she saw outside, and the energy of the land and workers around her funneled through her onto the canvases she painted.
She checked to be sure she’d laid out the outfit she wanted to wear. These days, they saved their Regency gowns for Sunday dinners, special occasions and when they worked at the bed-and-breakfast. Sometimes she missed the crazy, early days of her time at Base Camp, but it was a relief not to have to do all the hard work in a fancy dress. It made the times they wore them more special. The best of both worlds.
She had everything she wanted, she thought as she stepped in the shower.
And every day brought some new experience to treasure.
“One year down, four to go,” Dell said.
Clay grabbed a plate off the stack set on the table in the bunkhouse and advanced in line to get his breakfast. Ahead of him, Nora was chatting with Savannah about the day’s plans. He switched his daughter to his left arm, hoping he could manage without spilling his food when the time came. Constance was just over thirteen months old now, a sweet brunette with a bow-shaped mouth and the determination to take on the whole world. For now, she was watching the gathered breakfast crowd.
Plotting her next attack.
“That’s right.” Sometimes Clay burned to be further along in his studies, but he was pleased he and his father had both made it through the first year of their architectural program. They were enrolled in a five-year professional course. He’d thought they might take much longer to accomplish their goals, only attending school part-time, but his family had gotten together and worked out how to make it possible for them to attend full-time.
Nora took his child-care shifts and still worked with the building crew, as did he and his father in their spare time, the two of them getting as much work done as Clay would have if he hadn’t been attending school. His mother, Lizette, had taken on more shifts to cover expenses at home, and the rest of Clay’s siblings were doing what they could to pitch in with maintenance, shopping and other chores at their parents’ house to make things easier while Dell was in school.
Someday both of them would be licensed architects. Meanwhile, they planned to spend the summer working with Nora, Curtis and the rest of the building crew. They had three tiny house projects lined up off Base Camp, along with helping with all the new construction on the ranch itself and consulting with Montague on his latest development.
“Nice to have a day off,” Dell said.
Lizette, who’d just joined them, laughed. “You hate days off.”
“Not when they aim to be busier than a regular workday.”
Clay knew what he meant. Today was Base Camp’s first annual open house, during which the public could come and tour the ranch, see the original tiny houses, the gardens and the new groups of homes going up in several areas of the property. They could learn about renewable energy and the way Base Camp’s inhabitants were getting things done. A cross between a party and a symposium, it was bound to be an all-hands-on-deck type of day.
In other words, right up Dell’s alley, which was why he’d opted to arrive before breakfast.
“I’m sure you’ll have fun.” Lizette patted Dell’s shoulder affectionately. “I’ve been drafted to lead tours of the manor. Let me take Constance,” she added when the little girl began to wiggle. “I’ll get my food when you two are settled in.”
Clay handed her over gratefully. “Be good for Grandma,” he told Constance.
“You’re always good for Grandma, aren’t you?” Lizette kissed Constance’s nose and elicited a giggle.
“You’ve got a lot to be proud of here,” Dell said.
Clay nodded. He was proud. Sometimes he thought back to his time in Yemen,
