Toward the end of the week, Willow felt like she’d managed to put thoughts of George Emerson behind her. For the most part anyway. She’d almost convinced herself that they were just too different to ever be truly compatible. Some claimed that opposites attract, but what about staying power? How could you sustain a relationship with someone so completely different? It was ridiculous.
“Do you want to come to Mr. Emerson’s retirement party this afternoon?” Collin asked Willow on Thursday morning. He was about to head off for his last official day of high school. “It was in yesterday’s announcements. Everyone’s invited. Teachers, parents, kids, custodians, lunchroom ladies.” He chuckled as he picked up his book bag.
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“Come on, Nana,” he urged. “I have a feeling that Mr. Emerson doesn’t have many friends. It might mean a lot to him if we went.”
“So, you’re going?”
“Sure. My way of thanking him for that letter.”
“What about baccalaureate tonight?”
“That’s not until seven. Mr. Emerson’s party is at 3:30. In the school library.”
“Well, I suppose if I’m not busy . . . I could come.” Even as she said this, Willow wasn’t so sure. Besides the fact that she had nothing in common with Mr. Emerson, he appeared to have sent her a clear and distinct message. He was not interested in her. Not in the least.
Still, Collin’s invitation stuck with her all morning. By midday, she knew she should go. After all, George had been an excellent teacher for Collin and he’d written the letter she’d begged from him. Shouldn’t she at least show her gratitude? Plus, she suspected that Collin was right. A man like George probably had few friends.
As she poked around her messy studio, attempting to organize the clutter and chaos and still wishing for those big cherry cabinets, she got an idea. She’d take George a little retirement gift. Okay, it wasn’t exactly little, but she felt it would be perfect. Something to perk up George’s stark little bungalow. Oh, he might very well hate it. But that would be his problem. Now if only she could find where she’d tucked away that stack of oversized paintings.
Willow dug around the piles and boxes, creating even more messes, until she finally unearthed some old paintings that she’d wrapped in a drop-cloth. She thumbed through the canvases until she found it. She’d painted this in college. The subject had been a rusty old turquoise-blue pickup truck. She’d set it in an overgrown field of bright orange poppies. Something about those two bright colors had spoken to her back then. And she actually still liked it. But this painting was large and cumbersome—not something she cared to display in her gallery and too big for her apartment.
She couldn’t explain it, but something about the piece reminded her of George Emerson. Perhaps it was metaphorical. The broken-down yet charming pickup was going nowhere—and although George wasn’t exactly broken-down, he did act somewhat stuck. But the cheerful optimism of the prolific poppies encompassing the truck promised better things, happier days. Anyway, she hoped so.
She wasn’t sure how George would react, but something about the truck and poppies had George Emerson written all over it—and she was determined to present it to him today. As she wrapped it in kraft paper, prettily tying it with strands of dyed raffia, she was glad that her signature was obscured by the frame. That way if George sincerely hated it, he needn’t be concerned that she’d take it personally.
As she loaded the canvas in the back of her SUV, she chuckled to herself. Whether this was a white elephant gift or an insult, she wasn’t sure. But as she parked near the high school and extracted her bulky package, she realized she didn’t particularly care. Let George sort it out.
Willow had dressed a bit more conservatively today. For her, anyway. This morning she’d donned an off-white dress and espadrille sandals. She’d perked the ensemble up with turquoise and coral beads, silver bangle bracelets, and big hoop earrings. Some might think her ensemble too youthful for a woman her age, but Willow had never concerned herself with conventions. If she felt good—what else mattered?
Although she did feel slightly conspicuous as she went through the security station, she told herself it was only because she was going in while everyone else was rushing out. She quickly explained to the security guard that her parcel contained a gift for Mr. Emerson’s retirement party. “Nothing toxic or dangerous or explosive,” she teased. “Well, unless someone hates art.”
The guard gave the package a few pokes and squeezes then finally nodded. “I guess we won’t need to open it. Have a nice time.”
She thanked him and proceeded toward the library. Her plan was to be congenial but not overly personal. She would simply present her gift and chat a bit, then make an excuse to leave shortly thereafter. That would satisfy Collin, and George would probably be relieved to see her go. But when she got to the library, which she’d expected to be filled with well-wishers, there was no sign of a party.
“Can I help you?” a woman with a bored expression asked.
“I thought there was a retirement party for—”
“Oh, that’s in the conference room.” The woman nodded toward the back.
Willow thanked her then headed back. As she got nearer to the open conference room door, she expected to hear voices, but like the rest of the library, it was eerily quiet. She entered the conference room, expecting to be greeted by crepe paper banners and colorful balloons, but all she saw was a sheet cake on the table with a handful of stiff-looking people congregated around it.
Relieved to see Collin and Marissa were there, Willow smiled brightly at George. “Happy retirement, Mr. Emerson!” She held out her parcel. “A little something from Collin and me.” She winked at her grandson. “Well, not exactly little.”
“Thank you.” George’s smile looked more forced than usual. “It was very nice of you to join us.”
“Open it,” someone said.
“Yes, of course.” George stiffly took the package from her. “Please, have some cake, Willow. It has lemon filling.”
As Willow helped herself to a piece of cake, George opened the package. To Willow’s relief, there were several oohs and aahs from the party guests as the paper fell away. But George looked stunned as he stared at the painting—and not in a good way. “Thank you,” he solemnly told her. “This is very thoughtful.”
Willow attempted some lighthearted small talk, but no one in this group was particularly congenial. Or perhaps, like her, they were simply uncomfortable—and suddenly the “party” began to break up. Excuses about cleaning out classrooms and preparing for tonight’s baccalaureate ceremony were made and, before Willow could excuse herself, it was simply her and George and Collin standing in front of the half-eaten cake.
“I’m not sure how I’ll get this home,” George said as he carefully folded up the wrapping paper. “I walked and—”
“I’ll drive it home for you,” Willow offered him. “I’ll just leave it on your front porch.”
“Thank you.” He looked at her with a hard-to-read expression. It looked like a mixture of apology and discomfort and perhaps, unless it was her imagination, longing. “I already have a large box to carry home.” He explained how he’d been taking portions of books and papers home with him each day. “I hope to get the last of it by tomorrow.”
“We can give you a ride,” Collin declared. “Nana’s got lots of room in her SUV.”
“That’s a good idea,” Willow agreed.
“I’ll help you carry stuff down from your office,” Collin suggested. “Maybe we can get everything out today. Then you won’t have to pack anything tomorrow.”
“That’d be nice.” George sounded genuinely grateful. And just like that, it was arranged. Collin and George would go get his things and Willow would park her car out in front and wait for them.
But after Collin helped load some boxes in back, he explained that Marissa was waiting to meet up with him. “Later,” he called as he closed the rear door. “I’ll see you at baccalaureate, Nana.”
So it was only George and Willow, driving toward his house in awkward silence. Fortunately it would be a short ride.
“I can hardly believe that Collin is graduating tomorrow,” Willow said in an attempt to fill the void. “It seems like only last week, I was walking him into his first grade classroom.”
“I feel a bit like that regarding my retirement,” he said quietly. “I think I’m sort of in shock.”
She glanced at him with a sudden surge of empathy. “How many years did you say you taught?”
“Next year would’ve been my thirtieth.”
“Wow. I’ve never done anything for that long.”
“What about marriage?” he asked. “Didn’t you meet your husband in college?”
“Yes, but we didn’t get married right away. We dated awhile, then broke up, then got back together. We’d just celebrated our twenty-first anniversary before Asher passed.” She parked in front of George’s house, turned off the engine, and smiled at him. “I think it’s very admirable that you taught school for that long, George. Congratulations. Well done!”
He looked at her with misty eyes. “I guess it’s really hitting me now. I can hardly believe tomorrow is my last day. I didn’t expect to feel this emotional about it. Or maybe it’s just the letdown of that pathetic retirement party.” He made a sad attempt at a smile. “Pretty sorry affair, wasn’t it?”
“I was a bit surprised at how small it was,” she confessed.
“Probably fitting.” He opened the door.
“Well, it’s a busy time.” She got out. “What with baccalaureate and graduation and all.” As he carried his boxes into his house, she brought in the painting. But now she was feeling guilty. “You know, George, if you don’t like this piece, I will understand. I realize that art is very subjective and—”
“I do like it,” he insisted.
“But I won’t be offended if you don’t want it hanging here in your house,” she said. “To be honest, I was feeling rather smug about giving it to you earlier. But now I feel a bit embarrassed and I’m—”
“Embarrassed?” He held up the canvas with a confused expression. “This is a beautiful gift, Willow. I will treasure it.”
“Really?”
He carried it over to his gray sofa. “Do you think it would look good here?”
She studied the colorful painting on the barren white wall. Normally she wasn’t a fan of paintings above sofas, but for some reason this looked right. “Yes, it looks just fine there, George. Perhaps a bit lower though.” She explained the general rule for hanging art at eye level. “Do you really like it?” She grabbed up a pencil, preparing to mark a spot for a nail.
“I love it.”
Willow felt dumbfounded as she marked the wall with a tiny X. He loved it? Although she didn’t know George well, she knew that he was a very sincere person. He wouldn’t say he loved it if he didn’t.
He leaned the painting against the couch then turned to her. “Thank you very much, Willow. It was most thoughtful.”
“You’re very welcome. Again, I congratulate you on your career, and on your retirement. Hopefully the best is yet to come.”
His brow creased, but he simply nodded. Feeling she’d worn out her welcome—again—Willow excused herself and made a hasty exit. She had no intention of pushing George too much. She felt certain she’d overdone it last weekend. Probably overwhelmed the poor man. It was just her way.
Less is more, she reminded herself as she drove home. As usual, she parked in the back lot, then went around to the front of the building to enter. She was about to go up to her apartment when a lone figure standing next to the gallery caught her attention. The woman’s hair was the color of eggplant and she had on shabby jeans, tall black boots, and a worn leather jacket. Was it possible?
“Josie?” Willow called out.
“Mom!” Her daughter turned then rushed to her. “I thought you’d never get home.”
“What are you doing here, honey?” Willow hugged Josie then held her at arm’s length, looking intently at her face. Still pretty and somewhat youthful, but there was a hardness there too. Life had etched itself into Josie’s features.
“Collin’s graduation.” Josie dropped a half-smoked cigarette to the sidewalk, grinding it under her heel. “You invited me to come. Remember?”
“But you said you couldn’t—”
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind.” She jerked her thumb down the street. “And Garth is here with me. He just went to get us some coffee.” She nodded toward the gallery. “And that snob in there apparently didn’t appreciate my presence, so I’ve been hanging out here and feeling like a bag lady.”
“Didn’t you tell her who you were?”
“No. Why should I?”
“Well, it’s just that—”
“So, do you have a place for us to stay? Our junk’s in the rental car parked out back. And I’ll warn you, it wasn’t cheap to get here, but I promised Garth you’d pay him back. Right?”
“Yes, of course.” Willow nodded, trying to conceal her concerns. It sounded like a good idea a few weeks ago to have Collin’s mother at his graduation. But she hadn’t considered the boyfriend. Suddenly she felt unsure. “You and Garth get your bags from the car, and I’ll go unlock the apartment for you. And I must apologize. I didn’t realize you were coming, so the apartment’s not really ready for guests.”
“Don’t worry. We’re used to roughing it.” Josie laughed.
As Willow hurried upstairs, she suspected that was true. Still, she’d hoped to have the apartment in better shape for Josie. She unlocked the door then hurried around to open the windows and let some fresh air inside. She’d stored some furnishings in here, but wanting to do some remodeling and repairs and painting, nothing was in place.
She bustled about, attempting to move some things, make some pathways, create a semi-habitable space. She was just sliding a chair into the living room area, when she heard the sound of voices. “Hello?” Josie called out.
“In here.” Willow waved them into the apartment and Josie introduced her to a tall, skinny man with a goatee and what looked like thousands of dollars’ worth of tattoos. “This is Garth,” Josie said proudly. “The bass player for Black Night.”
“I’m happy to finally meet you,” Willow told him. “I’m sorry this apartment isn’t set up for guests.” She pointed to pieces of a bed leaned against a wall. “Maybe you two can help me get that set up in the bedroom.”
“Don’t worry, Mom.” Josie tugged off her jacket, tossing it onto the chair. “We’ll take care of all this.”
“Sure.” Garth nodded. “We’ll just flop the mattress on the floor. And then we’ll flop ourselves onto it and take a nice long nap.”
“Yeah. We took the red-eye from Florida,” Josie explained as she nudged Willow toward the door. “Then we drove here from Portland. Believe me, we’re exhausted.”
“Well, Collin’s baccalaureate is at seven, but we should probably leave here around six-thirty to get good—”
“I thought graduation wasn’t until tomorrow.” Josie frowned.
“It is tomorrow. Baccalaureate is a different ceremony,” she said from the doorway. Of course, this was all foreign to Josie. She’d missed out on these things by insisting on getting her GED in lieu of a traditional diploma. “Baccalaureate is like a spiritual send-off for the graduates. A blessing of sorts.”
“Well, maybe we can skip that,” Josie told her. “We’re pretty wiped out.”
“Okay.” As Willow closed the door, an unexpected wave of sadness washed over her. Had Josie really come to see her son . . . or did she just want a free vacation and a place to crash for a while? Willow didn’t mind so much for her own sake. It was simply good to see her daughter’s face. But she did not want Collin to be hurt by Josie’s callous attitude. Besides that, she knew that her grandson disliked surprises. Somehow she had to break this to him gently—and quickly. He barely knew his mother and it would not go well if he felt blindsided by her unexpected appearance.
Grateful that Leslie and Joel were handling the gallery for the next few days, Willow went into her own apartment and sent a text message to Collin. Not wanting to say too much, she simply stated that a surprise was waiting for him at home. Then she tried to put together some sort of plan—a way to allow Collin some time with his mother and her boyfriend . . . a way to break the ice without too much drama. She decided to start with an informal dinner before baccalaureate tonight. Hopefully Josie and Garth would be awake and feeling sociable by then.
As Willow started getting things ready for a simple dinner, Collin called. “So what’s up?” he asked. She quickly explained about Josie and Garth.
“You’re kidding.” Collin didn’t sound the least bit enthused.
“I know it’s kind of a shock,” she said carefully. “I was pretty surprised too.”
“I don’t really want to see her,” he declared.
Willow sighed. If only they’d had more time . . . more warning. “I understand how you feel, but I thought we could have a quiet little dinner with them before we go to baccalaureate. We’ll have to keep it short and sweet.”
“I told Marissa I’d take her out for tacos and then we’d go to baccalaureate together,” he explained. “I planned to meet up with you afterward.”
“Oh.” Willow felt dismayed. “Well, I guess that’s okay. Maybe we can spend some time with your mother and Garth tomorrow. You don’t have school.”
“I don’t have school because it’s senior skip day,” he reminded her. “I told Marissa that we’d bike out to the lake and rent some kayaks.”
“That sounds nice.” Willow tried to think of an alternative plan. “Well, how about if I plan a little celebration for after graduation?”
“But Marissa and I plan to go to the all-night party.”
Willow was actually glad to hear he was engaging in all these social activities—and knew that it was probably thanks to Marissa. Still, it made Josie’s visit here rather awkward. “But I thought the all-night party didn’t start until ten,” Willow said. “Couldn’t you spend a little time with us before that? You could bring Marissa too. And maybe invite some of your other friends.”
“Yeah, I have so many friends,” he said sarcastically.
“Well, you could invite Spencer and Will. And I’ll invite some friends,” she told him. “I know Leslie and Joel would like to come. And the weather forecast is good—we could hold the party out on the terrace. You know how pretty it is up there with all the patio lights in the evening. I’ll bet Marissa would like it too.”
“Okay,” he reluctantly agreed. “I’ll ask Marissa and Spencer and Will.”
“Thanks, Collin. I’ll get right on it. And I’ll see you at baccalaureate.” As she hung up, she felt relieved. It would actually be easier not to deal with this tonight. And tomorrow, well, it was a new day. Hopefully it would all work out by then.