“Joel will be here at noon,” Willow reminded her. Although Joel was only part-time, he was a great help with bookkeeping and a well-informed salesperson. Willow wished he was willing to be full-time, but she understood. Joel, like her, was an artist and needed time to create.
Satisfied that the gallery was in good hands, Willow headed down Main Street in search of a light breakfast. Smelling a tantalizing aroma from the Muffin Man Bakery, she decided to go inside. As she gazed over the well-stocked glass case, she thought of George’s confession about comparing women to pastries. Willow suspected that she would’ve been offended if another sort of man had made a statement like this ... but somehow, coming from George, it sounded rather innocent.
“Are those bran muffins?” she asked the girl behind the counter.
“Yes. Fresh out of the oven.”
“With raisins?”
The girl grinned. “Yep.”
“I’ll take half a dozen,” she said impulsively.
After paying for the muffins, she headed over to Common Grounds Coffee Company with a specific mission in mind. Munching on a broken-off piece of a bran muffin, which was surprisingly good, she selected a small bag of medium roast Brazilian coffee beans and a coffee grinder, then ordered herself a latte. While she waited for her coffee, she used her phone to look up “George Emerson of Warner, Oregon” and was pleased to discover his address was only a few blocks away.
As she carried her purchases, she continued to nibble on the bran muffin, finishing it off as she came up to his house. It was a charming cornflower-blue bungalow with a tidy, albeit sparse, yard. She felt a little nervous as she stepped up to the front porch. Poor George had been practically stalked by his neighbor last night and here was Willow showing up uninvited this morning. Perhaps she should simply set her gift in front of his door and leave.
“Hello there,” a female voice called out.
Willow turned to see Lorna Atwood waving from her front porch. “Oh, hello,” Willow called back. “I was just dropping something off for George.”
“I think he’s home,” Lorna said. “At least I haven’t seen him venture out.”
“Oh, well ... thanks.” Willow turned back, quietly tapping on the door, but preparing to just drop off her parcels and leave.
“Hello?” George opened the door with a bleary-eyed expression.
“Did I wake you?” she asked with concern.
“No, no, of course not.” His frown looked confused.
“Here.” She held the bags out. “I brought you something and—”
“What’s this for?” he asked with a furrowed brow.
She glanced over her shoulder to see Lorna watching with open curiosity. “May I come in?” she whispered.
He appeared to understand. “Yes, of course.” He opened the door wider. “Please, come in.”
Once inside, she let out a sigh then giggled. “I’m sorry to burst in on you like this, George. But I wanted to thank you for—”
“You thanked me last night.” He looked self-conscious as he tucked a slightly rumpled blue shirt into his trousers. Not his previous buttoned-up self. She wondered if something was wrong.
“This is to thank you for something else.” She quickly explained about Collin’s plans to meet up with Marissa. “He was so happy. And he said it was thanks to you.”
George’s lips curved up. “Well, that’s nice to hear. I’m glad for him.”
Willow held out the bakery bag. “For you.”
His eyes lit up as he peered inside. “Bran muffins?”
“With raisins.”
“Thank you.” He nodded.
“That’s not all.” She held up the other bag. “Coffee.”
“But I already have coffee.” He nodded toward his kitchen. “I haven’t made it yet, but I—”
