“I have vanilla bean ice cream and raspberries for dessert.” She stacked the dishes. “How does that sound?”
“Good.” He smiled. “Need any help?”
“No. You just relax.” As she went into the kitchen, she felt hopeful. Almost as if she’d made some kind of breakthrough with George. Was it possible he was warming up to her? Or was there some sort of magic in his childhood home ... something to help him let his guard down? Whatever it was, it felt like progress.
sixteen
As Willow surveyed Josie’s apartment, she could hardly believe the progress they’d made during the past week. She knew they’d never have gotten this far without George’s help. Besides putting the cabinets back together, he’d brought over a sander and gone to work refinishing the oak floors. And then he’d helped Josie to lay checkerboard tiles in the kitchen and bathroom. Of course, the two of them had butted heads a fair amount—George was a perfectionist and Josie, well, she just wanted to get it done. But by the end of the week, the little apartment was finished and Josie was actually smiling. Willow couldn’t remember ever seeing Josie this happy. It was almost scary.
“What kind of furniture are you planning to put in here?” George asked Willow and Josie as he set his tools by the door.
“Just odds and ends,” Willow told him.
“Well, if you have any missing pieces, I’ve got a lot of miscellaneous things in my grandparents’ attic. My grandmother never threw anything away.”
“Seriously?” Josie’s eyes lit up.
George frowned at the lime-green living room walls. “Although I’m not sure anything would go with the, uh, interesting colors you selected.”
“Collin calls this my crayon box,” Josie told him.
George smiled as he picked up his electric screwdriver.
“Well, if you really have things you’d like to get rid of, there might be ways that Josie could adapt them to fit in her crayon box,” Willow suggested. “A little paint and fabric can go a long way in transforming a piece.”
“So when can I come look in your attic?” Josie said.
George rubbed his chin, almost as if having second thoughts. “Well, how about if you make out a list of the sorts of things you need,” he told Josie. “Then I’ll poke around and see what I can find. It’s pretty crowded in the attic. More of a one-man show.”
“Cool.” Josie did a little spin on her gleaming living room floor. “Don’t you just love it?”
“I think it’s very charming, honey,” Willow told her. “Okay, I’d like to give George a lift home with his tools. If you need help getting that bed frame put together, let me know and I’ll come—”
“I can do it myself.” Josie put her hands on her hips with a confident nod. “I’ve actually gotten to be quite handy, Mom. Or hadn’t you noticed?”
“I’ve noticed.” Willow picked up George’s toolbox. “Ready to go?”
His nod looked weary as he went out the door.
Willow nudged Josie. “How about you run into my apartment and get that container of leftover linguini? I want to send it home with George.”
After everything was loaded into Willow’s car, George sat quietly in the passenger seat, his tool box in his lap.
“I hope we haven’t worn you out too badly,” Willow said as she drove.
“No, no. Not at all. I was just feeling a bit disappointed that we’re finished.”
“Really?” Willow laughed.
“Although I am a bit stiff and sore,” he admitted. “Might need a good hot soak in the tub tonight.”
“I hear you. Even though I like to convince myself that today’s fifties are yesterday’s thirties, I don’t remember wearing out as quickly.”
“Probably good to pace yourself.”
“Probably.” She sighed. “George, I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for all your help on Josie’s apartment. Did you see how happy she looked?”
“In her little crayon box.” George chuckled.
