“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
“Fine. How about we get started tomorrow?”
“Fine.” Josie’s jaw jutted out. “What do I do first?”
“The carpet and linoleum need to be pulled up. And I’ll have to arrange for a Dumpster.” Willow reached for a notepad, starting a to-do list. One for her and one for Josie. She knew that this plan could completely fall apart or blow up in her face, but what was the worst that could happen? Even if it wasn’t done right, Willow had planned to gut that apartment anyway. If Josie could invest some real energy and time into it ... well, maybe it could be a win-win for everyone. Or else it could all go up in smoke. Willow added “install more smoke alarms” to her list.
fourteen
At the end of his first week of retirement, George was uneasy. Perhaps even antsy. As he went about his usual morning chores, he tried to pinpoint why he felt like this. Having time off in summer was nothing new to him. But even reading in the hammock had gotten a bit old. While sweeping the kitchen floor, he thought perhaps it had been errant not to plan some sort of travel event—something to commemorate the end of his teaching career. He remembered how teachers before him had boasted of the exciting globetrotting they planned to do in their retirement. As he returned the broom to the closet, George wondered if he should be contemplating going somewhere.
But George had traveled a lot in his forties. Always on organized tours, of course. Where every minute and mile had been spelled out on a detailed agenda that George would begin studying in midwinter. Over the course of a decade, George had stepped onto every continent, and his passport boasted colorful stamps from dozens of countries. Traveling had always been a bit stressful, but when fall came, he recalled how his “adventures” had impressed his fellowteachers. Of course, these trips had been the result of his friendship with Brad and Tracie. Owners of Wilson Travel, they always recruited George for their annual summer trips—mostly to balance the tour groups, since there’d always been a majority of single women. But Wilson Travel had folded with the economy, and George hadn’t been on a tour in more than ten years.
George sometimes saw ads for group tours in the local newspaper. He’d read them with amusement but never enough interest to respond. In fact, the very idea of getting on a plane and going to another country sounded rather horrifying to him right now. The honest truth was that George had no desire to go anywhere. But why was he so unsettled?
As George cleaned his coffee maker, his thoughts wandered to Willow West ... again. These musings, which had become habitual, were most unwelcome. They popped in and out, uninvited, throughout his day until he finally decided that since there was little he could do about it one way or another—why not simply give in?
He made a small grocery list, wondering what Willow was doing right now. Probably working at her gallery. He could imagine her dressed in one of her exotic outfits, casually chatting with a customer as quiet classical music played in the background. Not a bad sort of life. But was her obnoxious daughter still tormenting her, or had Josie moved on by now? And had Collin gotten that job at the bookstore? The owner had called George as a reference and, naturally, George had spoken favorably.
Maybe George should stop by on his way to the grocery store. Maybe he’d even buy a book—something outside of his normal reading habits. That could shake things up. As hegave his counter a final wipe down, he wondered if Willow was planning any more exotic parties to be held out on her wonderful terrace. The weather forecast for the weekend was good. He could imagine her and her artist friends up there in the moonlight. There’d be music and laughter. They’d probably dine on fancy hors d’oeuvres and drink fine wine—having an enjoyable evening. All of this, though out of his comfort zone, was still rather intriguing. But George had been determined to put some time and space between himself and Willow. That relationship, even when it was enjoyable, had grown too close for comfort.
As George changed into a clean white shirt—without a tie—he felt a deep longing ... a need to escape. Not this house necessarily. Or even the small town of Warner. No, George felt the need to escape himself. But as quickly as that feeling swept over him, he pushed it away. With his shopping bag folded neatly inside of his dark trousers pocket, he headed to town.
His first stop was the Book Nook, where, to his dismay, Collin was not working. George considered inquiring, but the salesclerk was busy. So without even browsing for a book, George continued on his way. Next stop was Mabel’s Market. He’d been shopping there for as long as he could remember. Even when old Mabel sold the small grocery store to the Patel family and moved to Florida, George had remained a faithful customer, primarily for two reasons. First, it was near enough to easily walk to and from, and second, they carried a limited selection of merchandise, which helped prevent confusion and distraction. George could easily gather the items on his list and be on his way.
During the school year George habitually shopped onWednesday afternoons and Saturday mornings. But since this was summer—and now that he was retired—he planned to adopt a more flexible schedule.
“Good day, Mr. Emerson,” Mrs. Patel said politely. “How are you this fine morning?”
“Very well, thank you.” George picked up a shopping basket.
“We have some lovely fresh fruit today. Kiwis, papayas, pomegranates, pineapples.” She waved a hand over the produce section.
George scanned the colorful display of fruit before picking up his standard fare—two slightly green bananas, two red delicious apples, and two oranges. “This will do, thank you.” He nodded to her then continued to the dairy section. As he made his next selections, he wondered why he ever bothered to make a shopping list since he always purchased the same things. But it felt good to have the slip of paper in his pocket—just in case he got rattled or distracted and forgot.
With his shopping bag weighted down with groceries, George headed for home, but instead of turning down his street, he paused, glancing down Main Street to the Willow West Gallery. Perhaps he could simply pop in and say hello. He could ask Willow how things had gone with her daughter. Hadn’t he offered her his friendship? And yet he hadn’t had a conversation with her all week. What kind of friend was that?
So, convinced that he was overdue for a casual encounter with his friend Willow, he entered the gallery and instantly wished he’d worn a tie. The sound of pleasant music greeted him, as well as the aroma of something he couldn’t quite identify. Something spicy but sweet.
“George?”Willow practically ran into him as she rushed around a corner, carrying what looked like an old-fashioned wooden toolbox.
“Hello.” He stepped aside since she appeared to be in a hurry.
“What are you doing here?” Her tone was flustered, but then she smiled. “I’m sorry, that doesn’t sound very hospitable, does it?”
“It looks like you’re busy.” George noticed her paint-stained overalls and tie-dyed T-shirt. Not exactly the sort of ensemble he’d imagined she’d be wearing in her gallery.
“Yes. I’m helping Josie.” She tipped her head toward the door. “I just wanted to slip in and out of here to get this.” She held out the toolbox. “I wanted to make a quick getaway before any customers had a chance to see me like this. Want to make a quick exit with me?”
“Sure.” He nodded, following her out the door and into the shadows of the nearby stairwell. “I only popped in to say hello,” he told her. “I hadn’t talked to you for a while.”
“I know.” She set down the toolbox and pushed a loose strand of hair into the blue bandana that was holding it away from her face. “In fact, I was just thinking of you this morning.”
“You were?” For some reason he felt surprised.
“Yes. I was remembering that lovely cherry shelf-unit you made.”
“Oh yes. I’m actually considering doing some woodworking again. You’d suggested as much. And perhaps it’s a good idea.” He smiled. “In fact, I’m thinking that if my skills aren’t too far gone, I’ll consider making that storage unit you mentioned.”
