George explained the plan they’d cooked up. “She feels that she can do her decorative painting technique on some of my old pieces of junk. I promised her she could dig around my attic. As long as she doesn’t go for family heirlooms, I don’t particularly care. I need to clear that space out. Andquite frankly, the attic makes me feel claustrophobic. So she’ll be doing me a favor to get rid of a few things.”
“How interesting.”
“Josie thinks she might be able to sell her painted pieces as art.” He frowned doubtfully.
“That’s actually a very good idea. I think she could. Especially if she’s willing to take some advice and do things right. If her pieces are done well enough, I wouldn’t mind having them in my gallery.”
George brightened. “That would make her very happy, Willow.” He pointed to the vase she’d just thrown. “Did you make that?”
“I did.”
He got up to examine it more closely. “You’re talented.”
“You really like it?”
“It’s very handsome. I can’t even imagine how it would feel to make something like that.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
“No, no. I wouldn’t even know where to start.” He shoved his hands in his pockets with a furrowed brow.
“It’s easier than you think, George.” She went over to her workbench, explaining the basics of pottery as she slapped a piece of clay into a ball then planted it on the center of her electric wheel. “It’s kind of a messy business, but it’s a clean mess.” She dipped her hands in water, sat down on the bench, and began shaping the clay, quickly pulling it up into a column then opening it. “See.”
“Fascinating.”
Willow looked up to see what appeared to be a wistful expression on George’s face. “Want to give it a try?” she asked.
“Oh, no ... not right now. I don’t have time.” He checkedhis watch. “I don’t want to leave Baxter home alone for too long, you know, since he’s probably still getting used to his new environment.”
“Maybe some other day.” She reached for a rag, wiping off her hands. “It’s actually a lot of fun, and many people find it quite therapeutic. But I understand your concerns for Baxter. How is he settling in?”
George’s face lit up as he described Baxter’s unusual intelligence. “I must admit I wasn’t too thrilled when he decided to sleep on my bed. But Baxter was surprisingly considerate. He politely curled up on the other side. Almost as if he’d been trained.”
“What a cat.”
“Yes. Thank you again for bringing him to me.”
“Give him my best regards.” Willow couldn’t help but chuckle to herself as George left her studio. It looked like Baxter had fallen into a fine-feathered nest. And it appeared that her friendship with George had been restored once again.
George didn’t consider himself a particularly intuitive person, but he could tell that something was wrong with Collin when he went to visit the bookstore on Monday morning. “You just fill out this form.” Collin pointed to the computer with a somber expression. “That way you’ll get our newsletter with offers and coupons emailed directly to you.”
“But I don’t have email.”
Collin frowned. “Not at all?”
“Not at all.” George frowned. “So without email, I can’tparticipate in this? You can’t simply mail your newsletter to my house via the US Postal Service?”
“The newsletter’s electronic,” he said curtly.
“Oh, well, I guess I’ll have to pass on it.” George studied Collin closely. “Are you all right, Collin? You don’t act quite yourself today.”
Collin shrugged.
“Of course, it’s none of my business.” George smiled stiffly. “I suppose I’ll just browse around a bit.” He waited to see if Collin wanted to assist him, but seeing his young friend’s disinterest, George continued on his own. He felt distracted as he wound his way down the aisles, finally finding himself standing in front of a shelf of self-help books.
George had never been a fan of self-help books. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever read a single one. But a certain title, face-out in the center of the shelf, caught his eye.Getting the Upper Hand over Obsessive Compulsions.He wasn’t sure if it was something about the cover’s bright design or the title itself, but he felt compelled to pick it up and, when he read the back cover’s cheesy sales copy, it was as if the words were speaking directly to him.
He attempted to replace the book on the shelf, but something inside of him wouldn’t let it go. And so he marched to the register and purchased it. As the cashier gave him back a penny, George figured it was probably a complete waste of $14.99. “Here you go.” She handed him the bag with a smile. “Hope you enjoy it.”
