thirty

The next four days passed in a happy blur for Willow. The Tour of Homes was an all-around success. The locals enjoyed the experience of being inside the lovely historic home, and a number of them expressed genuine interest in purchasing it. Willow took down names and numbers to save for George . . . just in case. She was pleased to recommend Donna and Cliff to people planning renovation projects. And Willow was thrilled to sell several pieces of art to customers who hadn’t even been in her gallery before. All in all, it was well worth the effort she’d put into it.

But by Sunday afternoon, about an hour before it was time to close down the tour, Willow was exhausted. Since the foot traffic had lessened considerably, she’d sent her helpers home and was about to remove the open-house signs when she heard footsteps in the foyer.

Pasting a smile on her face and preparing to be hospitable, she went to welcome her last-minute guest, only to be pleasantly surprised to see Pastor Hal. “Welcome,” she told him. “Where is your sweet wife?”

He grimaced. “Beth will probably throw a fit to hear I came here without her. But she’s been visiting our pregnant daughter in Salem. She’s supposed to get home tomorrow. And to be honest, although this looks like a handsome house, I’m not up here for the tour. I came to visit with you.”

“To visit with me?” She smiled. “How thoughtful.” She pointed to the porch. “Want to sit out here? There’s a nice breeze.”

After they were comfortably settled, Hal jumped right in. “I’m aware that you’re a good friend of George Emerson.”

“You know George?” She didn’t expect this. “Did you know this is his house?”

“No, I had no idea. Nice place, though.”

“I’ve been helping him with it.”

“Then you really are good friends with him?”

“Well, yes. I like to think I am. But it’s been a bit of a roller-coaster ride. I’m afraid that’s mostly my fault. I push the poor man far too much. He calls me a ‘camel’s nose.’”

“A camel’s nose?”

She quickly relayed George’s parable and Hal just laughed. “That sounds like something George would say.”

“So you really do know him?”

“We’ve met for coffee a few times. And he came to church today.”

“He did?” Willow couldn’t imagine such a thing. “I wish I’d been there. But I had to be here at the house.”

“George is the reason I wanted to talk to you. I don’t want to overstep my bounds, but he’s an unusual fellow. Quite likeable too.”

“Very unusual.” She nodded. “That’s probably what attracted me to him.”

“Attracted you?” Hal’s brows arched.

She waved a hand. “You know, as a friend. I liked George right from the start. But he is an odd duck. There’s no denying it.” She laughed. “But to be fair, so am I.”

“Well, then . . . are you aware of George’s feelings for you?”

“Feelings?”

He looked uneasy. “I normally don’t get this involved, Willow, but George is a special case. I think it’s only fair to warn you that George is in love with you.”

She sat up straight. “Oh, Hal, you can’t be serious.”

“I am serious.”

“How can you possibly know something like that? I can’t imagine that George would ever say such—”

“He didn’t exactly say so. Not in so many words. But it’s written all over his face, Willow. Whenever he speaks of you. Trust me, I know what I’m saying. And the only reason I’m giving you this heads-up is because I can’t stand to see that sweet man get his heart broken.”

“Get his heart broken?” Willow spoke slowly, still trying to take this in.

Hal looked uncomfortable. “I don’t like to interfere, Willow. And if Beth knew what I was up to, she’d probably give me what for. But as you know, I do couples’ counseling, so this is familiar turf for me. Besides that, I really care about George. He’s a special guy.”

Willow nodded. “George is special to me too.”

“So, please, forgive me if I’ve overstepped my bounds in telling you. But, as my grandmother used to say, a word to the wise is sufficient.” He started to stand.

“But wait.” Willow held a hand up. “I’m curious as to why you’re so worried. Do you honestly think I’d do anything to hurt George?”

“No, of course not. Not intentionally, anyway. I just feel he’s vulnerable. I wanted you to know.” He sat back down.

“Can you enlighten me about this?” she asked. “Why is he so vulnerable? Because I feel that I’ve done everything possible to win his trust—and yet it always blows up in my face.”

Hal leaned forward with folded hands. “I think George is afraid to love you.”

“Afraid—why?”

“Well, I’m in this deep. I might as well continue.” He held up two fingers. “First of all, George is worried that you’re smitten by your handsome contractor—and that it’s pointless for him to pursue you.”

“Well, that’s perfectly ridiculous.” She released an exasperated sigh. “Cliff Grant is only a friend.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” He held up the other finger. “This is probably the reason that concerns me most. George is certain that if he loves you, he will lose you. Everyone he’s loved, it seems, has died. It’s as if he thinks he’s cursed.”

“Or that God hates him.” Willow nodded. “He’s told me that before.”

“But I think George is shifting his beliefs. Apparently it started with Simon and Garfunkel and—”

“What?”

He waved a hand. “Never mind. But, trust me, Willow, George has been going through some pretty major changes lately. He’s definitely on a significant spiritual journey.”

“That’s wonderful. I’ve been concerned for him.” Despite being glad to hear this, Willow still felt bewildered. What did Hal expect her to do? And what if he was wrong about George’s feelings toward her?

“It’s a relief to hear you’ve been such a good friend to George. I was very uneasy about bringing this up to you. But I prayed about it and felt God gave me a green light.”

“To be honest, George and I haven’t had much opportunity to talk these past couple of weeks. Something always interrupts.” She wasn’t ready to admit that most of their recent conversations had been derailed by silly misunderstandings.

“One reason I wanted to talk to you about this is because I feel a little bit guilty.”

“Guilty?”

“Well, I may have said something dumb to George yesterday. We met for coffee and George was speaking so fondly of you. I rather flippantly told him that he should tell you how he feels. It seemed a good idea at the time. I usually encourage people to be up front with their feelings. But then I saw George in church today and, well, he looked so vulnerable. I got to thinking . . . What if he decided to take my advice and you rejected him? How hurt would he be? I really wished I’d kept my advice to myself.”

“What makes you so sure I’d reject him?”

His brows arched hopefully. “You wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged and looked away. “And shouldn’t that be between George and me? But I do promise you this, Hal, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. Not intentionally. More than anything, I’ve tried to be his friend. I value his friendship. I genuinely like him.”

He reached over to grasp her hand. “Oh, Willow, I should’ve known you’d handle this just right. Even if I didn’t have the sense to keep my big mouth shut.” He slowly stood. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

“Thank you for giving me this little heads-up.” She chuckled as she stood.

“You sound amused.”

“I guess I am. And here’s a confession—I think I started courting Mr. Emerson months ago. But I haven’t been doing a very good job of it. I eventually gave up.”

He laughed. “You know what I think, Willow?” He grew more serious. “I think you’re not the only one courting Mr. Emerson.”

She waved a hand. “Believe me, I know all about that. Women seem to line up for that funny guy.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” His eyes twinkled. “I think God’s been courting him too.”

George was perplexed.

On Sunday evening, after the Tour of Homes concluded, Willow stopped by to give him a short list of people who’d expressed interest in buying his grandparents’ house. But that wasn’t why he felt confused, or why he was pacing back and forth in his living room while Willow waited for his answer.

It was because of Willow’s suggested new plan. She wanted the two of them to host a thank-you party on Monday night. It was, she said, to show appreciation to everyone who’d helped on his house. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel grateful, but he did feel concerned. Was this gathering just an excuse for Willow to spend more time with Cliff Grant? If so, he wanted no part of it. No part at all!

He replayed the awkward conversation he’d had with Cliff after Willow had abandoned them the other night. Cliff had insinuated that Willow was his new girlfriend. The braggart had gone on about what a fine woman she was and how he’d been looking for an independent partner with her own business and bank account . . . expressing weariness of those “weak gold diggers” who attached themselves to him, only to sue him for alimony when it turned sour. George had listened with impatient dismay.

“I don’t know,” George cautiously told Willow. “You want to do this tomorrow? That’s so soon. You just finished the Tour of Homes. Aren’t you worn out?”

“It’s just that I’d like to have this get-together while the house is still intact and looking so pretty. I’m keeping the gallery closed until Wednesday. That gives me Tuesday to get all the art moved back. I asked Betty and Donna to wait until Tuesday as well, so it’s Monday or not at all.”

“A party is such a lot of work . . . and on such short notice.”

“Not for me. The house is already set. I’ll keep it simple and handle all the arrangements—and I’ll cover for food and drinks.”

“Even so.” He frowned, struggling for a good excuse. “I just don’t understand why you need me at the party, Willow. I’m not very social and—”

“All you have to do is show up, George. Just smile at folks and express your gratitude. You have no idea how many people helped you with that project.” Now she began listing names—both of people who had been hired to help as well as many who’d simply volunteered.

“Why did people give their time for free?” he asked.

“Because they are my friends,” she declared. “And perhaps they want to be your friends too.”

“Oh?” He considered this. “I suppose your contractor friend will be there too.”

Her mouth twisted to one side. “You don’t like Cliff very much, do you?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really know him.”

“But you don’t like him, George, I can tell.”

“You want the truth?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, for starters I’ve heard he’s a womanizer.”

“A womanizer?” She laughed. “Who on earth told you that?”

“Lorna’s friend Gayla said that Cliff has been married a couple of times and has had several girlfriends.”

“That sounds like gossip to me.”

He felt unsure. Should he repeat what Cliff had said the other night? Or was that stepping over some invisible line?

“And that’s why you don’t like him?” She peered curiously at him. “Just because your lady friends are telling tales out of school?”

“There’s more.” He felt like Willow deserved to know the truth about Cliff. Then if she wanted to proceed with a relationship, at least she’d have her eyes wide open.

“Do tell.” She had a smug expression.

“Well, Cliff said a few things . . . the other night when you took off and left me at the house with him.”

“What sort of things, George?” She folded her arms in front of her, waiting.

George told her, but once again, she didn’t seem to care. In fact, she acted completely nonchalant about the whole thing. “I just thought you should know,” he said a bit defensively. “If you’re going to be involved with—”

“My involvement with Cliff Grant was purely professional, George. And it was for your sake.” She tapped him on the chest. “I put up with Cliff in order to get your house fixed up for you.”

George relaxed some. “So you’re not interested in him—romantically?”

She laughed. “I really don’t feel he’s my type.”

George felt a tiny rush of hope. “What is your type?”

Her smile looked a bit coy. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would like to know.” He tried to conceal his eagerness.

She pursed her lips. “Well, George, if you really want to know, perhaps you’d like to help me host that thank-you party.”

“Is this some sort of blackmail?”

“Does that mean you’re coming?”

He shrugged. “I suppose I am.”

“Thank you, dear. The party will begin at seven. I hope to see you there a little before that. Say, six forty-five?” Then, to his complete surprise, Willow came over and kissed him on the cheek. And it wasn’t just a peck either. It felt like an intentionally warm and passionate kiss. And it left him longing for more.

George hardly slept on Sunday night. And then, throughout the day on Monday, he couldn’t stop thinking about Willow. Had he imagined their conversation to have been more than it was yesterday? Had Willow given him reason to believe he really had a chance with her? After all the times he’d blown it with her? Was she still interested? Surely it was impossible, and yet . . .

By the time he was dressing for the party, George was a bundle of nerves. So much so that he changed his clothes several times before deciding on his old standard of suit and tie. He realized he’d probably be the only one dressed like this, but he didn’t care. It simply felt comfortable. And tonight, of all nights, George felt the need to be comfortable.

When it was six thirty sharp, he gave Baxter a kitty treat then told him goodbye and headed out on foot to his grandparents’ house. Although the shadows were lengthening, it was still light out as he strolled up the hill. There was a feeling in the air that suggested autumn was around the corner. For a moment, George felt the old rush of nerves to think that it was teachers’ in-service week—followed by relief to realize he no longer needed to report in for work.

As he got closer to the house, he was surprised to see it not only lit up inside but also by lanterns along the walkway and strings of lights around the wraparound porch. Very festive and very welcoming. The front door was open and he could hear strains of music—jazz, but the quiet kind. As soon as George went into the foyer, he felt so strangely at home that he felt a mistiness in his eyes. As if this was the place where he belonged but had not been in ages. Maybe ever.

A generous bouquet of fresh flowers was on the entryway table, with several candles flickering around it. The air smelled sweet and spicy and like something else . . . food perhaps.

“George,” Willow exclaimed happily, coming from the living room in a flowing dress of shimmering shades of aquatic blue that set off her peachy skin. “You’re here! And right on time.”

George nodded. “I promised.”

She grasped both his hands in hers. “And you look so handsome in your suit and tie.” Her turquoise-blue eyes sparkled. “Thank you for coming.”

“The house looks beautiful,” he said. “All the lights and all. Very nice.”

“Thank you.”

He stared at her, taking in her softly curling strawberry-blonde hair and creamy skin. “You look beautiful too, Willow.”

Her whole face lit up. “Why, thank you, George.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, suddenly feeling nervous and self-conscious.

“No, I’ve got caterers in the kitchen, and I think everything is pretty much ready.”

“Would you mind if I took a look around the house?” he asked. “I’ve never seen it looking quite like this. I mean, with candles and everything . . . at this time of the day.”

“I’d love you to look around.” She linked her arm in his. “I’m actually feeling rather sad to think this is the last night it will look quite like this. I want to soak it in myself.” She led him into the living room, which had never, in George’s memory, looked so perfectly lovely.

“I wish my grandmother could see this,” he murmured as they slowly walked through it. “I think she’d wanted it to be like this.”

“Maybe she can see it.” Willow smiled. “I like to think that people in heaven get sneak peeks sometimes. After all, I believe God is big enough to facilitate such things.”

“That’s an interesting theory.”

She continued to lead him through the house and, even though George had been impressed with the changes before, he felt even more impressed now. It was really extraordinary. Finally, after they’d been in every room and on every floor, they were in the conservatory, which was lit only by candles and lanterns. George felt uncomfortably close to tears.

“Willow, you’ve made this house more beautiful than I ever thought possible,” he said quietly. “And I feel so terrible about how I fought you each step of the way. I really do hope you’ve forgiven me.”

“Of course, I have.” She sighed. “Have you called any of the people who were interested in purchasing it yet?”

“No, no, not yet.” George was about to tell her that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sell it now, but he noticed a couple of cars parking out front. “Looks like party time.” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“Let’s go greet them.” Willow kept her arm linked in his. “Just smile and be friendly, George. It’s not that hard. They’re basically good people.”

As usual, Willow understood his general discomfort with social situations, but she probably didn’t know his real reason for reluctance right now. It was simply that he wished tonight’s party had only two on the guest list.

Willow stayed close to George as guests began to arrive. But to her surprise, he acted much more at ease than she’d expected, especially as he discovered that he already knew a number of them. Besides Collin and Josie and Willow’s employees, he was happy to see several other acquaintances. He also seemed glad that she’d invited Hal and Beth. Before long, Willow felt George was managing just fine on his own. As a result, she could relax and enjoy the festivities herself. All in all, it was turning into a lovely evening—albeit bittersweet, since she knew this was the last night to enjoy the house looking so happy and loved. But hopefully it would soon be adopted by new owners eager to continue what she’d begun.

Not only was George mixing and visiting with the guests, he even refilled their drinks, playing the role of a real host enjoying his real home. Of course, she remembered, he did own this house, but she’d never felt he was truly at home here. It was nice to see him fully engaged tonight. It was like seeing a new side to him.

She grew a bit concerned when she noticed him interacting with Cliff in the conservatory. She wished she could hear their conversation, but seeing George smile with confidence was reassuring. Apparently he was not intimidated by Cliff. And when Cliff left early, Willow felt nothing but relief. She’d suspected from the start that Cliff was not the sort of man she wanted to get overly involved with. She’d sensed insincerity and was old enough to realize that an attractive exterior didn’t necessarily reflect an attractive heart. She wished him no ill but was happy to move on.

To Willow’s surprise, George had plenty to chat about with Donna and Betty. The three of them spent a fair amount of time in the den, talking and laughing as if enjoying a private party. Willow felt slightly left out but tried not to feel jealous as she went to the kitchen to pay the caterers and thank them for their efforts. Still, she was proud of George. He was making real progress. And by the end of the evening, George appeared to have many new friends.

As they stood in the foyer, Willow smiled to see George sincerely thanking their guests for coming—and thanking them again for their help with his house. He was being so friendly that she wondered if he wanted the party to stretch later. But she was tired and eager to kick off her sandals as the last of the guests slowly trickled out. Finally it was just Josie and Collin.

“I’ve got to be to work early tomorrow or I’d offer to help clean up,” Collin told Willow.

“That’s okay,” she assured him. “I think I’ll leave most of it until tomorrow.”

Now Collin turned to George. “Just one week before I head off to college,” he told him. “I can’t wait.”

“You’re going to enjoy it.” George gripped his hand. “I look forward to hearing what you think.”

“Maybe I can help you with the cleanup tomorrow,” Josie said in what seemed a halfhearted offer.

“Thanks.” Willow smiled. “I’d like that.”

Josie shook a finger at George. “I really don’t get how you can let this house go. Especially after we got it looking so awesome.”

“Thank you again for your help,” George solemnly told her. “I really appreciate it, Josie.”

“Well, I kinda owed you one.” She gave a sheepish smile. “You helped me with my apartment—and all that cool junk you gave me.”

Willow and George waved goodbye as Josie and Collin walked down the porch steps together. “It’s such a relief seeing them not tearing into each other for a change,” Willow said quietly.

“They’ve come a long way.” George closed the door.

“Haven’t we all.”

“Thank you for including me tonight,” George said with what sounded like sincere gratitude. “I actually enjoyed myself. Much more than I expected.”

“I’m so glad.” She sat down on the foyer bench. “My feet have been begging for this—I hope you don’t mind.” She pulled off her sandals and sighed.

“Not at all.”

She stood and stretched. “I just want to check on a few things and extinguish the candles before I go home.” She paused to blow out the candles in the foyer.

“I’ll help,” he offered, following her into the living room.

She paused, looking around and trying not to feel sad about leaving. “By tomorrow afternoon, the only things left here will be your grandmother’s furnishings,” she reminded him. “And then you can—”

“Not necessarily . . .”

“What do you mean?” She turned to peer curiously at him.

“I’m making an arrangement with Donna and Betty,” he explained. “To leave things in place.”

“Oh, is that so it will look nice while you’re selling it?” She nodded. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“I’m not selling it.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “For the first time in a very long time, I feel at home here, Willow. I don’t want to sell it.”

She smiled. “Oh, George. That’s so wonderful. Does that mean you’ll live here?”

He nodded. “I think so. Betty and Donna agreed to send me invoices for all their pieces. If their bills aren’t too outrageous, I’d like to keep everything just as it is. Although I can’t afford all the art you’ve brought in, I would like to keep a few pieces.” He pointed to the painting above the console. “I actually like that painting, but it’s far too expensive to even consider.”

“No, it’s not.” Willow chuckled. “I priced it like that because it’s mine. It used to hang in our home in Sausalito, and even though it’s too massive for my apartment, I haven’t been able to part with it. But it can hang here in your house for as long as you like, George.”

“Really?” He turned to her. “And would you come around to enjoy it?”

“Of course.”

“Because you’ve shown me that I need color in my life. You’ve shown me that it’s healthy to take risks . . . and that there are people around me worth knowing.” He spoke quietly but with what sounded like conviction. “I know I’m an old stick-in-the-mud and as stubborn as a mule. But I think I can change, Willow. I think I am changing.”

“Oh, George.” She went over to him, placing a hand on his cheek. “I would hate to see you change too much. I think you’re pretty wonderful already.”

“Thanks.” He grinned. “I think you’re pretty wonderful too.”

Then he kissed her . . . and she knew this was just the beginning.