“I think they look better like this.” He stood looking all around. “I can’t believe this is the same room. It’s so light and bright and cheerful.” He slowly shook his head. “Maybe this is what my grandmother wanted.”
“This room makes me feel happy,” she said. “Every time I come in here, I want to smile.” She tugged him toward the dining room. “I want you to see everything.”
“The dining room feels very welcoming,” he told her. “I’m glad you reused my grandmother’s furnishings here too.” He turned to Willow. “These were some of the things I felt badly about losing. Thank you for saving them.”
“Oh, that makes me so glad.” She smiled. “Come see the beautiful kitchen. Everyone who’s seen it has fallen in love with it, George. Honestly, if you decide to sell this place, this kitchen will seal the deal.”
He paused in the doorway, looking all around. “It really is nice. Much nicer than I thought when I first saw it.” He looked down at the floors. “I like that.”
They continued the tour downstairs and George didn’t hide his pleasure. But when they went upstairs, he grew quiet. “This was Alex’s room,” he said solemnly.
“I know.” She nodded. “It looked like very little had changed since the 1970s.”
“I removed his record albums and stereo, but everything else was the same.” He looked teary. “I used to come up here sometimes ... when I missed him.”
Willow felt his sadness and wasn’t sure how to comfort him. “I did ask Collin to help me with this room,” she explained. “And with what I assume was your boyhood room.”
“To help you?” George removed his handkerchief, dabbing his eyes.
“I asked him to carefully go through things—before we took the furnishings down for the estate sale. I asked him to box up any memorabilia that he thought you might want saved.”
“You did?” George’s eyes grew wide.
“The boxes are stored in the attic, marked with your name.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“It just seemed—” She was interrupted by someone yelling her name. “That sounds like Cliff Grant,” she told George. “Hello?” she called out. “I’m upstairs.”
They heard the sound of fast footsteps up the stairs and then Cliff appeared at the top. “What’s going on?” he asked breathlessly. “I saw your SUV parked halfway down the street with the headlights on. And then the lights on in the house. I thought maybe—”
“Oh dear.” Willow frowned. “I think I left my keys in the ignition too.”
“I’m George Emerson.” George stuck out his hand. “I assume you’re Cliff Grant, the contractor. Thank you for helping with my house.”
“George Emerson.” Cliff shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“If you guys will excuse me, I better go see to my car.” She smiled nervously. “And if you can lock up, I’ll just head on home. Bye now.” Hoping that the two men would enjoy a congenial conversation, she hurried on out. She felt slightly guilty leaving George like that. She suspected he didn’t have the highest regard for Cliff, although she didn’t know why. But maybe this would give him a chance to get better acquainted. Or maybe George would challenge Cliff to a duel. She chuckled to herself as she drove home. Was it possible that George Emerson was jealous of Cliff Grant? Wouldn’t that be something!
thirty
The next four days passed in a happy blur for Willow. The Tour of Homes was an all-around success. The locals enjoyed the experience of being inside the lovely historic home, and a number of them expressed genuine interest in purchasing it. Willow took down names and numbers to save for George ... just in case. She was pleased to recommend Donna and Cliff to people planning renovation projects. And Willow was thrilled to sell several pieces of art to customers who hadn’t even been in her gallery before. All in all, it was well worth the effort she’d put into it.
But by Sunday afternoon, about an hour before it was time to close down the tour, Willow was exhausted. Since the foot traffic had lessened considerably, she’d sent her helpers home and was about to remove the open-house signs when she heard footsteps in the foyer.
Pasting a smile on her face and preparing to be hospitable, she went to welcome her last-minute guest, only to be pleasantly surprised to see Pastor Hal. “Welcome,” she told him. “Where is your sweet wife?”
He grimaced. “Beth will probably throw a fit to hear I came here without her. But she’s been visiting our pregnant daughter in Salem. She’s supposed to get home tomorrow. And to be honest, although this looks like a handsome house, I’m not up here for the tour. I came to visit with you.”
“To visit with me?” She smiled. “How thoughtful.” She pointed to the porch. “Want to sit out here? There’s a nice breeze.”
After they were comfortably settled, Hal jumped right in. “I’m aware that you’re a good friend of George Emerson.”
“You know George?” She didn’t expect this. “Did you know this is his house?”
“No, I had no idea. Nice place, though.”
“I’ve been helping him with it.”
