nineteen
By the next morning, Willow was determined to put all troublesome thoughts concerning George and Baxter behind her. In fact, she was ready to put George Emerson behind her. Her distraction was to spend the day in her studio. And since it was supposed to hit triple digits today, the basement-level studio sounded like the perfect place to be. Plus, with the interest some of her pottery had received last night, including two sales, she felt inspired to work with clay today. She was just using a wire to cut a large vase from the wheel when she heard someone calling her name.
“Down here,” she yelled, pausing to see who it was.
George appeared out of the shadows with a sheepish expression. “Sorry to interrupt you while you’re working,” he told her. “But Leslie told me you were down here.”
“Hello, George.” She kept her voice cool as she continued to remove the vase then carefully set it on a drying board. She turned to look at him. “What can I do for you?”
“First of all, you can accept my sincere apology,” he said.
“Apology for what?” She wiped her hands on a rag and waited.
“For a couple of things.” He sighed. “First of all, for the way I behaved on the hot-air-balloon ride. I realize now that you thought I would enjoy it, but—”
“Oh, George, it was thoughtless of me. I can see that now. I should’ve known that you don’t like surprises. I just felt that once you were on it, you would see how much fun it could be. But I had no idea you had a fear of heights.”
“Yes, well, I’ve heard that we should face our fears in order to get past them.”
“Maybe so, but it should be your choice. Not forced upon you.” She smiled. “And you’re right, I am like a camel’s nose. I’m too pushy. I need to back off. I understand that. So if you accept my apology, I’ll accept yours.”
He nodded. “Accepted. But I have another one to make. I treated you abominably yesterday when you brought Baxter to me. I’m sorry.”
“To be fair, that was similar to the balloon ride. I am a camel’s nose. I pushed too hard and sprung it on you without warning.”
“It’s true that you caught me off guard by not asking first. But it’s also true that if you’d asked me first—if you’d given me the option to adopt a cat—I would’ve firmly told you no thank you. Because I did not want a cat. Not in the least.”
“Well then. I’m happy to take him off your hands. I think he is a wonderful cat and I’m glad to—”
“But I do want him.” George looked worried. “You’re right. Baxter is a wonderful cat. And he is quite comfortably at home with me. We are well suited to each other.”
“Oh.”
“That’s why I need to apologize. Not only was I horribly rude to you, Willow, but it turned out you were right. I sincerely thank you for bringing me Baxter.”
Willow felt her resolve to distance herself from George melting. “So you really do like him? He looked like such a fabulous cat. I honestly wanted to keep him.”
“I can understand that. But I feel that he’s very happy with me. I’m such a homebody now that I’m retired. And you’re always on the go or working in the gallery. I think Baxter could be lonely with your lifestyle.”
She nodded. “You’re probably right.” She pointed to the stools at her work bench. “Want to sit? I just made a pot of coffee, if you’re interested.”
While he sat down, she washed her hands then returned with two mugs of aromatic coffee. “So I heard that Collin and Josie got into it at the gallery last night. And I heard that you intervened. Is that right?”
“Yes. I was worried it was about to get ugly. So I put on my teacher hat and asked Josie to show me her apartment.”
“Thank you very much.”
“As it turned out, Josie and I had a rather nice little visit.”
“Really?” Willow had a hard time imagining that.
“It seems I’m destined to become her mentor.” George shook his head with a puzzled expression.
“What on earth?” She set down her coffee mug with a clunk.
George explained the plan they’d cooked up. “She feels that she can do her decorative painting technique on some of my old pieces of junk. I promised her she could dig around my attic. As long as she doesn’t go for family heirlooms, I don’t particularly care. I need to clear that space out. And quite frankly, the attic makes me feel claustrophobic. So she’ll be doing me a favor to get rid of a few things.”
“How interesting.”
“Josie thinks she might be able to sell her painted pieces as art.” He frowned doubtfully.
“That’s actually a very good idea. I think she could. Especially if she’s willing to take some advice and do things right. If her pieces are done well enough, I wouldn’t mind having them in my gallery.”
George brightened. “That would make her very happy, Willow.” He pointed to the vase she’d just thrown. “Did you make that?”
“I did.”
He got up to examine it more closely. “You’re talented.”
“You really like it?”
“It’s very handsome. I can’t even imagine how it would feel to make something like that.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
“No, no. I wouldn’t even know where to start.” He shoved his hands in his pockets with a furrowed brow.
“It’s easier than you think, George.” She went over to her workbench, explaining the basics of pottery as she slapped a piece of clay into a ball then planted it on the center of her electric wheel. “It’s kind of a messy business, but it’s a clean mess.” She dipped her hands in water, sat down on the bench, and began shaping the clay, quickly pulling it up into a column then opening it. “See.”
“Fascinating.”
Willow looked up to see what appeared to be a wistful expression on George’s face. “Want to give it a try?” she asked.
“Oh, no . . . not right now. I don’t have time.” He checked his watch. “I don’t want to leave Baxter home alone for too long, you know, since he’s probably still getting used to his new environment.”
“Maybe some other day.” She reached for a rag, wiping off her hands. “It’s actually a lot of fun, and many people find it quite therapeutic. But I understand your concerns for Baxter. How is he settling in?”
George’s face lit up as he described Baxter’s unusual intelligence. “I must admit I wasn’t too thrilled when he decided to sleep on my bed. But Baxter was surprisingly considerate. He politely curled up on the other side. Almost as if he’d been trained.”
“What a cat.”
“Yes. Thank you again for bringing him to me.”
“Give him my best regards.” Willow couldn’t help but chuckle to herself as George left her studio. It looked like Baxter had fallen into a fine-feathered nest. And it appeared that her friendship with George had been restored once again.
George didn’t consider himself a particularly intuitive person, but he could tell that something was wrong with Collin when he went to visit the bookstore on Monday morning. “You just fill out this form.” Collin pointed to the computer with a somber expression. “That way you’ll get our newsletter with offers and coupons emailed directly to you.”
“But I don’t have email.”
Collin frowned. “Not at all?”
“Not at all.” George frowned. “So without email, I can’t participate in this? You can’t simply mail your newsletter to my house via the US Postal Service?”
“The newsletter’s electronic,” he said curtly.
“Oh, well, I guess I’ll have to pass on it.” George studied Collin closely. “Are you all right, Collin? You don’t act quite yourself today.”
Collin shrugged.
“Of course, it’s none of my business.” George smiled stiffly. “I suppose I’ll just browse around a bit.” He waited to see if Collin wanted to assist him, but seeing his young friend’s disinterest, George continued on his own. He felt distracted as he wound his way down the aisles, finally finding himself standing in front of a shelf of self-help books.
George had never been a fan of self-help books. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever read a single one. But a certain title, face-out in the center of the shelf, caught his eye. Getting the Upper Hand over Obsessive Compulsions. He wasn’t sure if it was something about the cover’s bright design or the title itself, but he felt compelled to pick it up and, when he read the back cover’s cheesy sales copy, it was as if the words were speaking directly to him.
He attempted to replace the book on the shelf, but something inside of him wouldn’t let it go. And so he marched to the register and purchased it. As the cashier gave him back a penny, George figured it was probably a complete waste of $14.99. “Here you go.” She handed him the bag with a smile. “Hope you enjoy it.”
George just nodded. Did anyone enjoy reading a self-help book about obsessive-compulsive behavior? And if they did enjoy it, did they admit it to anyone? “Thank you.” He took his package and headed for the door but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
“Mr. Emerson?” Collin sounded urgent and his eyes looked troubled. “Will you be home this afternoon? Any chance I can talk to you during my lunch hour? I mean, if you’re not too busy.”
“I’m not too busy, Collin.” He smiled. “Feel free to pop on over if you like. You can meet my new cat, Baxter.”
Collin solemnly thanked him, promising to come at noon. As George left, he wondered if this might be related to Collin’s mother. Josie had a knack for bringing out the worst in her son, but George had hoped his little talk with her might’ve helped some. Still it was an odd and awkward relationship between mother and son. And George felt sorry for Collin. Such a sensible young man with such a flibbertigibbet for a mother. As he waited to cross the street, George checked his watch. He had just enough time to get a bag of kitty litter and make it home before Collin came to visit.
George had just freshened Baxter’s litter box when Collin arrived. He introduced Collin to Baxter then offered him lunch. “I usually just have a peanut butter and honey sandwich, apple, and milk,” he admitted as he washed his hands. “If that suits you.”
Collin shrugged. “I guess so. I’m not too hungry.”
“Go ahead and take a seat.” George nodded to the dinette by the window. “While I fix our lunch you can tell me what’s troubling you.”
After a long silence, Collin spoke. “It’s Marissa. She broke up with me.”
George sighed as he spread peanut butter. “I’m sorry to hear that. Marissa seems like a very nice girl.”
“I thought so too,” Collin said glumly.
George wasn’t sure how to proceed. He was no expert on things of the heart. “Did you two have a disagreement of some sort?”
“No, no, nothing like that. It was all very civilized.”
“Oh?” George cut the first sandwich in half.
“It all started after we left the gallery show on Friday night. Marissa and I went to Common Grounds as planned. And everything was perfectly fine . . . until this guy came in. Then she started to act pretty weird.”
“Weird?” George cored the apple, sliced it into neat eighths, and placed four pieces on each plate.
“Weird as in sort of flirty and silly—not how she normally acts. But it was all toward this guy named Marcus Schnell. He used to go to Warner.”
“I remember that boy. Didn’t he graduate a year or two ago?”
“Yes. He just finished his first year of college at Oregon State, but he’s home for the summer. Anyway, I guess he and Marissa had been friends in high school. More specifically, Marissa had crushed on him since she was fifteen. But they never dated or anything.”
“I see.” George set their plates and paper napkins on the table then went to get the milk glasses. No sense in telling Collin that Marcus had been a good student, well liked by everyone.
“For some reason, Marcus was being extra friendly to Marissa, and she just ate it up. I felt pretty much invisible.”
George returned with their milk and sat down, waiting for Collin to continue and wondering what he could possibly say to encourage this young man.
“Anyway, Marissa ignored my texts on Saturday. Then she called me on Sunday morning to say she was breaking up with me. Naturally, I asked if it was because of Marcus. She admitted that she went out with him on Saturday night. So just like that I’m yesterday’s news. End of story.” Collin had real tears in his eyes.
“That must’ve been very hard.” George took a bite of his sandwich, slowly chewing and wishing he had some words of comfort.
“What do I do, Mr. Emerson?” Collin used the paper napkin to blot his tears.
George swallowed, then took a sip of milk.
“Do you know how it feels to get your heart broken?” Collin looked desperately at him. “Have you ever been through anything like this?”
“Not exactly like your situation, Collin. But I did get my heart broken . . . when I lost a girl . . . the love of my life.” George felt surprised that he’d actually admitted this to anyone. He hadn’t spoken of it for decades.
“What happened?” Collin’s eyes grew wide.
George thought hard. Was he really ready to tell this story? But seeing Collin’s pain, the tears in his eyes, George began. “Well, you see, I fell in love with a girl in college. Laura Vincent. She was beautiful . . . inside and out. I’d admired her from afar for a whole year before I got up the nerve to ask her to get a coffee with me. I couldn’t believe it when she accepted. It was autumn. My senior year. Laura was a junior. We were both serious students and we dated steadily for the whole year. We had a few ups and downs, just little misunderstandings, but we were both in love. I asked Laura to marry me a few weeks before my graduation.”
George sighed. “She said yes. Our plan was to be engaged for a year—until I got my master’s degree and she graduated with her bachelor’s. Then we’d get married.”
“What went wrong?”
“Laura was killed in a car wreck.” George felt the old lump in his throat. “Just three days before my graduation.”
“Oh . . . I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t a story I usually tell,” George explained. “But considering your circumstances, it seemed appropriate. My circumstances were different . . . but my heart was broken just the same.”
“How did you get over it?”
George considered this. Had he gotten over it? Certainly, it wasn’t something he thought about on a daily basis anymore. But how long had it taken to reach that place? “Well, it was certainly painful. I didn’t even attend my own graduation. But my grandparents tried their best to help, and they encouraged me to continue with school and to get my master’s. After that, well, I moved back to Warner and went to work teaching.” He sighed. “Time passes . . . the pain lessens . . . you move on.” But George felt hypocritical. Had he moved on? Really?
“As horrible as I feel about Marissa, I’m guessing you must’ve felt worse, Mr. Emerson. I can’t even imagine how that would feel.”
“I don’t know if you can measure pain. It’s probably relative . . . different for everyone.” George attempted a smile. “The thing is, Collin, you have to keep going. And that gives me an idea. What about aiming for something higher than our community college for your first year? How about a more academic school?”
Collin frowned. “The main reason I settled for community college was because of Marissa. Now it sounds like the stupidest idea ever. But it’s probably too late to get in anywhere else. Maybe I’ll just skip school altogether this year. I can just work at the bookstore and—”
“What if I looked into a college for you?” George offered. “I’m an alumnus of Whitfield College. I just read in the newsletter that they have a new president, and he’s an old friend of mine. Of course, I can’t make any promises, but I could certainly ask.”
“That’d be great.”
“It’s a small liberal arts college,” George explained. “Some might think it old-fashioned, but I liked it.”
“Sounds good to me.” Collin picked up his sandwich and bit into it.
While they ate, George told Collin more about the college, and by the time they finished, Collin actually appeared somewhat encouraged.
“Thank you, Mr. Emerson. It means a lot to me that you shared that story.”
“Like I said, it’s not something I like to talk about much.”
“I understand.” Collin nodded. “I don’t think I want to talk to anyone else about Marissa either. Except I know Nana will ask me about it . . . eventually. Or maybe Marissa will mention it since she’s working for her.”
“No harm in simply saying that you and Marissa parted ways.”
“That’s true.”
“Perhaps you can mention your interest in going to Whitfield. Your grandmother will probably appreciate that. She was concerned about your educational goals.”
“I know.” Collin’s brow creased. “When do you plan to call your friend? The one who’s the president of the college?”
“No time like the present.” George went to his phone and, after dialing for information, was soon connected to the college. While he waited to be transferred to the president’s office, Collin stood nearby with an anxious expression. “I’ll probably just have to leave a message,” George quietly told him. But to his surprise, he was soon speaking with his old friend. After catching up a bit, George told Martin about Collin. “He has a strong interest in English and is probably one of the best students I’ve taught.” He paused to listen then turned to Collin. “He wants you to email your transcript. Can you do that?”
“Of course.” Collin nodded as he pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll do it right now.” He waited while George relayed the email address to him.
As George continued to visit with his friend, Collin punched things into his cell phone, then gave George a thumbs-up signal, mouthing, “It’s sent.”
“It looks as if my young friend has just sent you his transcript.” George tried to hide his amazement that this could all be handled so quickly and efficiently. The wonders of modern technology!
Martin assured him he’d go over the transcript as soon as possible. George thanked him and hung up. He turned to Collin. “Martin and his wife are about to go on vacation, so he promised to get on this right now.”
“I hope my grades are good enough.” Collin looked uneasy as he pocketed his phone and glanced at his watch. “I need to get back to work now. But thanks for everything. Especially for calling your friend like that.”
“I’ll let you know what I hear,” George promised.
“That’d be great.” Then Collin frowned. “I’ll understand if it doesn’t work out. It’s just nice that you tried. I appreciate it.” He said goodbye to George and headed out the door.
Less than an hour later, Martin called back. He assured George that Collin’s transcript was top-notch. “Based on your hearty recommendation, I’m happy to accept him.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“As you must know, we don’t normally handle applicants like this, but enrollment was slightly low and I feel Collin will be a great addition to our student body. Feel free to give him the good news, George. My assistant will handle everything else via email. She’ll help Collin to connect with the registrar and all that.”
George thanked him profusely. “You have a great vacation, Martin. I hope to be in touch with you this fall.”
“Maybe you can pay us a visit.”
“I’d like that.” George thanked Martin again. After he hung up he was so excited that he decided to walk back to the bookstore to share the good news with Collin in person.
He found Collin straightening a sales table. “You won’t believe it,” George told him. “But you’ve been accepted.”
“Are you serious?” Collin’s eyes were wide. “Just like that?”
“Well, Mr. Howard explained to me that he just happened to be in his office today. We were lucky to catch him there tying up some loose ends. Anyway, he did a quick review of your transcript and was suitably impressed.” George paused to catch his breath. “He and his wife will head off to Canada for a cross-country train trip tomorrow, and he won’t be back in his office until late July. So it was pretty good timing.”
Collin’s face lit up in a big smile. “Thanks so much, Mr. Emerson. This is the best news ever. I never dreamed you’d get results this quickly. It didn’t seem possible.”
George nodded. “I was a bit taken aback too.”
“How about if you tell my grandmother the good news? I’m sure she’ll be relieved—and happy.”
As George strolled through town, he felt a real sense of accomplishment. Not only had he helped to cheer up Collin, but Willow ought to be pleased as well.