“Thanks but no thanks!” Josie slammed the door.
Willow stepped back and, taking in a deep, calming breath, headed down the stairs, where she was met with Collin. She forced a smile. “Back from the all-night party?”
“Yeah. They had a big breakfast at the high school, but Marissa and I were so tired we decided to pass. I just want to sleep.”
“Good idea.” Willow couldn’t resist the urge to hug him. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?” she asked with tearful eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked with concern.
“Oh, it’s nothing much.” She quickly explained about Josie still being here. “Garth took off without her. I told her she can stay on, but she sounds determined to go.”
“Good.” Collin’s countenance turned dark. “The sooner the better.”
Willow simply nodded. “Get some rest.” Then, feeling slightly lost and disoriented, she continued down the street... until she found herself at the Muffin Man Bakery purchasing bran muffins.
George felt surprisingly refreshed and content as he went about his usual Saturday chores. Although he knew he could now perform these chores on any day he chose, there was a comfort in routine. And despite his concern over Emerson’s quote about “little minds,” George wasn’t ready to change his habits yet. Perhaps he never would. Another, less intellectual quote that his grandmother liked to repeat, usually for his grandfather’s sake, fit George as well.You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.
George had just finished putting his white load of laundry into the washing machine when he heard the doorbell. He was concerned that it might be Lorna Atwood, since she’d been waving at him over the backyard fence while he’d checked the oil and gasoline in the lawnmower, forcing him to postpone the lawn mowing for a bit. George peered cautiously around the corner of the kitchen to get a glimpse through the door’s high window. But instead of the pale platinum hair he expected to see, it was strawberry-blonde. He dropped his empty laundry basket and hurried to open it.
With a very forlorn expression, Willow held out a small white bag. “I—I brought you muffins.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “To thank you for your help last night and—and—” Her words were choked by a sob.
“Come in.” He gently tugged her inside, closing the door quickly lest Lorna was looking.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m kind of a mess today.”
“It’s okay.” He led her to the couch, helped her to sit. “What’s wrong?”
She blurted out about Josie being abandoned by Garth and how they’d exchanged some hurtful words. “I think she’s going to leave, but I told her she can stay. And then I told Collin—and this is what hurts so badly. He was so cold about it. It sounded like he truly hates her. Although I don’t really blame him, I can’t bear to think of him so full of hatred for anyone. Especially his own mother. And I—I was just so confused. I went for a walk in search of some clarity. Then I got muffins ... and here I am.”
George got up to fetch a box of tissues, setting it on her lap ... wondering what to do or say. This certainly was not his area of expertise.
Willow blew her nose and then stood. “I shouldn’t have come like this. I have no right to burden you with my problems. I’m sorry, George. I’ll go now.”
“Don’t go.” He attempted a sympathetic smile. “I’m your friend, Willow. You can talk to me.”
“Really?” She stared at him with a doubtful expression.
“I realize I’m not very experienced at this.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “But I can try.”
“But I don’t want to take advantage,” she said. “Like I said, my life is messy, George. And yours is so tidy and neat. And I know you like it that way.”
He nodded. “That’s true.”
She looked at the painting he’d hung over the sofa and her lips almost curled into a smile. “That looks nice there.”
“Yes, I’m getting used to it.”
“I’m actually surprised that you hung it at all. I thought it might be out on your back porch or given away by now.”
George held up the bakery bag. “How about some coffee to go with these?”
“That sounds nice.”
As George went into the kitchen, he realized he’d need to make some fresh coffee. “I, uh, I don’t really know how to make that special coffee you brought me,” he confessed as he set the bran muffins on a plate.
“What?” She frowned as she joined him. “You don’t know how to make coffee?”
“I know how to makemykind of coffee,” he explained. “But I don’t know about those whole beans. Do you measure them before or after you grind them? How much do you use per cup? How long do you grind them? And is there anything else I should know?”
