twenty-one

The weekend following the Fourth was busier than ever at the gallery, so much so that Willow actually asked Josie to help out a little. To her surprise, Josie arrived with clean hair and decent clothes and, for the most part, minded her manners. Still, it wasn’t ideal.

“I’d rather be an artist than work in a gallery,” Josie said as she helped Willow to close on Sunday evening.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Willow sighed as she locked the door. “Fortunately, we’re closed tomorrow. Then Joel is back on Tuesday. And I have a couple of applicants to interview.”

“Good. Because I need to get back to my art projects.”

Although Josie still hadn’t managed to connect with George and peruse his attic, she’d unearthed a few stray items in Willow’s studio to keep her busy. So far, she’d decorated a small stepladder and an apple crate, and she was about to start on a pair of wooden stools.

“I’d like to get back to my projects too,” Willow said as they trudged upstairs. She’d bisque-fired her most recent pottery creations, and although she’d glazed them, she hadn’t found the time or energy for their final firing. Maybe tomorrow. As she went into her apartment, she thought about George. She still hadn’t spoken to him. Not since their disagreement over Collin’s college plans. Although it was undeniable that George had overstepped a bit, Willow also had to admit that she’d been unkind and unreasonable. She owed him a sincere apology.

As she changed into more comfortable clothes, she wondered about taking George some sort of gift to help with her apology. She remembered how he’d complimented her on her pottery and thought about the tall vase that was waiting for its last firing. She’d glazed it with a turquoise blue that would look lovely in George’s bungalow. Especially if it was full of sunflowers. As tired as she was, she decided to go down to the basement to load and fire up the kiln.

Of course, it took longer than she expected. But at least she had an automatic timer on this kiln so she wouldn’t need to babysit it like she used to do. Even so, she stayed down there for a while, sweeping up and cleaning paintbrushes that Josie had left behind. And leaving her a reminder note to take better care of them. She paused to look at Josie’s stepladder. It was actually quite nice. Josie had listened to Willow’s suggestions, taking care to be sure that all surfaces were painted. Josie’s eye for color was definitely interesting. And Willow knew that if the right customers came into the gallery, these pieces could sell. At the very least, they were helping Josie to build confidence and would look fun in her apartment.

Finally, satisfied that the kiln was at the right temperature and that the timer was working properly, Willow said a little prayer for good results, then turned off the lights and went up to her apartment. Hopefully there would be no kiln mishaps and George’s tall turquoise vase would look beautiful tomorrow. She was just going into her apartment when Collin popped his head out the door. “You missed Mr. Emerson, Nana.”

“What?”

“He came by here about an hour ago. He said he was just on a walk and had stopped in to say hi.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” She pushed hair away from her damp forehead. “How was he?”

“He acted just fine. Said he really enjoyed the fireworks the other night.” Collin frowned. “Do you think he’s dating his neighbor now?”

“I don’t know.”

“I thought he liked you.”

Willow gave a weary smile. “Well, George and I are sort of like oil and water, Collin. We’re so different that I don’t—”

“But I thought opposites were supposed to attract.”

“Maybe briefly. But given time, they can rub each other wrong.” She unlocked her door. “But I do plan to speak to him soon. I owe him a bit of an apology.”

“Yeah, that’d probably be good.”

She said good night, then went into her apartment. She hadn’t mentioned the details of her unfortunate conversation with George, but it was almost like Collin knew. Perhaps George had told him.

George felt discouraged as he got ready for bed. It had taken a lot of nerve to go knock on Willow’s door tonight. He knew the gallery was closed and, according to Collin, Willow was home. But when she didn’t answer, George felt certain it was because she didn’t want to see him. He imagined her inside her apartment, peering through the little peephole in her door, still seething over George’s recent intrusion. She was finished with him. And he’d honestly believed that he was finished with her as well. But then time passed . . . and George’s thoughts often drifted to her.

He knew it made no sense, but he missed her. And he felt badly about the other night when he hadn’t bothered to go over to say hello at the fireworks display. Both Collin and Josie had told George that she was there. But George had remained stubbornly in his borrowed lawn chair, surrounded by Lorna’s lady friends. Admittedly, it had been somewhat amusing to be the only male in the company of those women. At least at first. But as the evening wore on, their gossipy chatter had grown increasingly tiresome. So much so that George had wanted to cover his ears and run. Oddly enough, Lorna had proved the least aggravating and most interesting of the group. At least she could talk about her recent trip with her sister. They’d gone to Yosemite National Park and a few other places. Finally the fireworks started, and although he hadn’t appreciated the loud booms, George had preferred that noise to the women’s grating voices. By the time it was over, he’d been eager to get home. He’d missed Baxter.

“I guess it’s just going to be you and me,” he told Baxter as he put his toothbrush in its holder. As usual, Baxter was perched on the toilet tank, watching with intelligent feline interest . . . and perhaps an expression of sympathy in his jade-green eyes. “A couple of bachelors living the quiet life.” He went out to the living room to turn off the light, pausing to look at the painting above his couch. It was funny. He remembered how jarring that painting had been initially. Oh, he’d been drawn to the subject matter because of Alex’s old pickup. But the oversized and colorful painting had felt intrusive at first. Yet now, he was used to it. And if someone removed it from his wall, he would most certainly miss it. In fact, he’d be upset to see it gone. Interesting.

Perhaps it was possible to adjust oneself to new things after all. And perhaps it was possible to pursue a relationship with someone as strange as Willow West. Except she acted like she wanted nothing to do with him now. Who could blame her? George knew he was by no means typical. He was standoffish and stuck in his ways and, according to some people, downright peculiar. But being a fan of Ralph Waldo Emerson, George had excused his atypical lifestyle as “individuality.” He marched to his own drummer. If it made people uncomfortable, they could simply keep their distance.

Willow enjoyed sleeping in on Monday morning. She took her coffee out to the terrace, taking time to water her plants and do a little garden maintenance. She loved being out here in the cool of the morning. At the west edge of her terrace she’d planted dozens of sunflowers as a sort of screen. Already they were blooming profusely. They would look perfect in George’s turquoise-blue vase, which she hoped had made it safely through last night’s firing.

As an experienced potter, she knew about the surprises that sometimes came with the opening of a kiln. Occasionally a pot would have an air bubble that resulted in an explosion that ruined the other pieces. Or the timer could malfunction, and the items could be under- or overcooked. Glazes could run or drip or crack or flake. You never knew what you’d get. But that was actually one of the things she loved about pottery. You had to expect the unexpected. Sort of like life.

As she got her second cup of coffee, she made a mental to-do list for the day. She wanted to offer Josie an enticing payment in exchange for some good janitorial maintenance in the gallery. She needed to make appointments with the job applicants and hopefully make a decision by the end of the day. She also wanted to work in her studio. And she really wanted to go to the new tai chi class that Lulu from church had just started. She’d even told Lulu that if she had the class late in the afternoon, she’d come. So Lulu had scheduled it at four.

Besides all that, Willow needed to take her peace offering to George. Naturally that was at the bottom of her list. Although it was somewhat encouraging that George had come by last night, after all was said and done, she wasn’t sure if it had been to see Collin or her. And she didn’t want to ask Collin. Still, she was determined to take him the vase . . . if it hadn’t exploded. And if the vase was ruined, she might take that as God’s hint to back off from George. For all she knew, George would probably be grateful.

It was midafternoon by the time Willow accomplished almost everything on her to-do list. To her pleasant surprise, the contents of the kiln had fired perfectly, and the turquoise vase was gorgeous. It was even more gorgeous filled with sunflowers of varying shades—everything from bright yellow to a rich russet. Willow’s plan was to drop off the peace offering then continue on to tai chi class. The perfect excuse not to linger and make a nuisance of herself. She’d even written a short apology note just in case George was out.

Dressed in her black yoga pants, a neon green tank top, and flip-flops, Willow drove over to George’s house, hoping that she could just leave her gift by his front door. But she was barely on the porch when the door opened and George, dressed casually in khaki pants and a blue shirt, stepped outside. He even had on sandals. With socks, of course, but still, they were sandals! Willow tried not to stare.

“Hello.” George’s smile looked genuine.

“This is for you.” She held the vase out to him and immediately launched into her somewhat rehearsed and lengthy apology. “I want to say I’m sorry for the way I acted after you helped Collin to get into Whitfield College. I was very unkind and most ungracious. Instead of being grateful, like I should’ve been, I took offense for feeling left out. But Collin is so pleased about his college plans, I not only owe you an apology, but a great deal of gratitude. Please, accept my peace offering.”

George blinked as she handed him the vase. “Thank you. This is very nice.”

“The flowers are from my terrace, and I made the vase,” she said quickly. “Remember? You saw me take it off the wheel when you visited my studio.”

“It’s really beautiful, Willow. You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”

“I wanted to . . . it’s my little peace offering.”

“Well, I feel like I owe you an apology too. Do you have time to come inside? You can say hello to Baxter.”

“Just for a few minutes. I need to be at tai chi at four.” She followed him in.

“Tai chi?” George said as he placed the vase in the center of his wooden coffee table. “I’ve heard that’s a good form of exercise, but I really don’t know anything about it.”

“A friend of mine is teaching a class.” She knelt to pet Baxter, scratching the top of his head and his chin while he purred. She stood and looked at George. “Hey, you should come with me. It’d be fun.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” George suddenly looked uneasy.

“Really, George. You’d probably like it. It’s supposed to be relaxing—as much for the mind as the body. And it’s good for older people.” She grinned. “Not that we’re old. We’re not. Come on,” she urged. “We’ll be tai chi buddies.”

“Maybe next time,” he said with a promising smile. “I—uh—I’m not really ready for this today.”

“But this is the first class, George. So everyone is a beginner. If you wait to come, you’ll have to catch up.” She poked him in the chest. “Besides, you’re dressed casually. You look ready to me.”

“Well, I—”

“Come on, George. What’s the worst that could happen? If you don’t like it, you never have to go again. But if you don’t go today, I bet you’ll never go.” She glanced at his wall clock. “It starts in fifteen minutes.” She tugged on his arm. “Tell Baxter goodbye and come.”

To her surprise, George quit protesting and came. As she drove over to the church, which was actually a restored barn, she chatted to George about her latest happenings, telling him about Josie’s progress as an artist and how Collin appeared to be recovering from his heartache.

“The tai chi class is here?” George frowned as she pulled into the gravel parking lot. “I thought this was your church.”

“Well, it’s a lot of things. Kind of an activity center and everything.” She parked and hopped out. “Come on, George, we don’t want to be late.” But as they hurried across the parking area, she felt a stab of concern. What if the class was women only? Or what if George resented her pushiness? Had she been a camel’s nose again? But how else did one get George Emerson out of his rut?

To Willow’s relief, George wasn’t the only male in the class. Lulu’s dad, Donald, was there. He was probably close to eighty but in great shape and took a real interest in George. The class was surprisingly soothing and, although the motions were slow and not overly physical, Willow felt like she’d had a bit of a workout when the class ended. But a good sort of workout. And she really appreciated how Lulu incorporated God into the meditative part of the exercises. “That was wonderful,” she told Lulu afterward. “Thank you.”

“Do you think your friend liked it?” Lulu asked quietly. George was in the back of the room talking to Donald. “I couldn’t tell by his expression.”

“Hard to say,” Willow told her. “But I’ll find out.”

“It would be nice if he kept coming. Dad was worried he’d be the only fellow.”

As Willow drove George home, she asked what he thought of tai chi. “I realize I sort of kidnapped you,” she confessed. “I hope it wasn’t too torturous.”

“It was okay. As you know, I don’t believe in God, so I didn’t particularly appreciate Lulu’s references to faith and Bible verses and such. But I must admit that the mental and physical part was good.” He sighed. “And I do feel more relaxed. It’s too bad she couldn’t just leave her religious propaganda out of it. I doubt that was how tai chi was meant to be practiced.”

Willow felt sad to hear him talk like this. She was familiar with George’s claims of atheism and knew his beliefs differed from hers, but somehow she perceived him in a different sort of light. He had a kind and generous spirit. He seemed vulnerable . . . like a wounded wayfarer on his own faith journey. One that she hoped would eventually lead him to God. But hearing him going on like this about the tai chi class was disheartening. Almost like a setback. Maybe it had been a mistake to take him with her today.