Her brow creased. “The truth?”
“That’s usually the best route.”
“I’m stupid.”
“Stupid?” He frowned. “You’re not stupid to me, Josie. If anything, you’re rather sharp and witty. You certainly have a fast tongue.”
She grinned. “Smart mouth, you mean.”
“Whatever you want to call it. I doubt that you’re stupid.” He pointed to the bright room. “And you appear to have some artistic talent. Admittedly, it’s not my taste, but I’m sure there are people who like this sort of thing. Have you ever considered following your mother’s example?”
She tilted her head to one side. “You really think I could do that?”
“Like I said, I’m no judge on this sort of thing. But yourmother could probably advise you. She’s certainly succeeded in the art world.”
“Wow, that would be cool if I could make a living doing art.”
“Although I’ve heard that some artists have to get a day job to support their art—initially.”
“That’d be okay.” Josie stood, pacing across the floor with a hopeful expression. “I could handle doing a boring day job if I had something else going on.” She turned to look at George. “You said you’ve got a lot of junk in your grandparents’ attic, right? Stuff you want to get rid of. Except for the family heirlooms.” She pointed to a little table that was busily painted in a colorful checkerboard and stripes and dots. “What if I did more things like this with old pieces of junk—do you think I could sell it?”
George wanted to say that he’d never pay good money for something like that, but instead he nodded. “I’ll bet there are folks out there who’d purchase something like that.”Some crazy folks, he was thinking. “After all, I’m sure that, like beauty, art is in the eyes of the beholder.”
“Mr. Emerson, you’re like a mentor to me. Did you know that?”
George wanted to protest this, but didn’t want to crush her. “Well, that’s nice.” He slowly stood. “And we’ll have to schedule a time for you to come go through the attic. But I left my cat at home alone and I feel I should get back to him.” He quickly explained that it was Baxter’s first day in a strange home.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “You better make sure he’s okay. I had a kitten once, when I was little. Her name was Bingo and she went kind of nutty every time we left her homealone. She tore up so much stuff that I finally had to give her away.”
“Right.” George thanked her for her apartment tour, said goodbye, and—worried that Baxter might’ve gone “nutty” in his absence—hurried toward home. To his relief, Baxter was just fine and nothing in his house was damaged. But he still needed to apologize and thank Willow. Maybe tomorrow.
It wasn’t until the art show was ending that Willow finally got to speak to Collin and Marissa. “Did I see Mr. Emerson here tonight?” she asked.
“Yes,” Collin told her, “but he left with Josie.”
“Really?” She tried not to look too surprised.
“After Josie and Collin got into a fight,” Marissa clarified.
“You got in a fight with Josie?” Willow asked Collin.
“She had too much to drink. I just wanted her to go easy.”
“Oh dear.”
“But Mr. Emerson did a great intervention,” Marissa told her. “He asked to see Josie’s apartment. They left and he never came back.”
“I see.” Willow tried to act like this was a perfectly natural explanation. But the truth was, her head was whirling. Collin and Josie had gotten into a fight? George had intervened? Then spent the evening with Josie? It sounded crazy. “Did Mr. Emerson mention a cat?”
“A cat?” Marissa frowned.
“I didn’t hear anything about a cat,” Collin told her. “Whose cat?”
“Never mind.”
“Well, if you don’t need us, I told Marissa I’d get her a coffee at Common Grounds. They’ve got music there too.”
She thanked them for their help and, still feeling confused about George’s strange visit to the gallery tonight, she went to help Leslie clean up the refreshment table. She seriously doubted that George was still in Josie’s apartment at this late hour, but she was tempted to go up there and ask Josie for her take on the evening.
