Honey stood, phone in one hand and coffee mug in the other, and went to look out the back window. CT was still sitting peacefully at the picnic table, peeling his banana. “He’s okay. Well, for him, anyway.”
“But the illness. How is he handling it?”
“Oh ... the same as before. He forgets things. Overreacts to things. Tires out pretty easily. Not much has changed since the last time we talked. Only perhaps...” She bit her lip. “A little worse.” Okay, that was an understatement. But why worry Jewel? She had her hands full single parenting a teenager and running a struggling business in a less than stellar economy. “How’s the art gallery doing?”
“About the same as the last time we talked,” Jewel parroted her. “Not so great.”
“Maybe with summer coming it’ll pick up?”
“Look, Mom, I have an idea.” Jewel’s tone was suddenly lighter. “What if Cooper and Ibothcome back to Oregon? We can help with the farm and spend some time with Dad while he can still remember our names.”
Honey felt slightly defensive, as well as uncertain. She’d welcome help but knew Jewel could be a handful at times. And while the farmhouse had enough bedrooms, the shared spaces would be a challenge. How would it feel to share her kitchen with a stubborn young woman with strong opinions on almost everything?Who knew where that might lead? Add to that mix a teenage girl recently uprooted from her friends—it sounded like a recipe for disaster.
“Oh, I don’t know, sweetheart.” Honey tried to think of a tactful rejection. “That’s a big change for you and Cooper. It’s too much to ask of—”
“It’s not too much. In fact, it’s settled. My friend Jess has been begging to buy my gallery since Christmas, and I’d almost made up my mind to sell to him. It was a fun project, but I’m done now.”
“Really?” Honey wasn’t so sure. “You love that gallery.”
“That was then. This is now. Honestly, Mom, I think we’ve come up with the perfect plan. Cooper and I will help you with Dad. And I’ll have more time for my art, something I’ve missed lately. Plus, it’ll get Coop away from her new friends. It’s decided. I’m going to call Jess right now and—”
“You need to give this careful consideration, Jewel,” Honey interrupted. “That’s a huge life decision. Don’t be too hasty and—”
“I’m not being hasty. It’s been silently percolating in me for a while now. I just didn’t have time to really wrap my head around it. But we’re coming, Mom. You can count on us. I gotta go. I need to work out a deal with Jess and a dozen other things. Talk to you later. Love you.” And before Honey could protest, Jewel hung up.
Honey just shook her head as she went to finish cleaning up her eggs. Frowning at the messy skillet, she pulled out a Brillo pad and began to scrub. Jewel was too impulsive. Dropping out of college just one semester before graduating. Then her hasty marriage to wealthy Rodney Benedict, a man with four failed marriages behind him. What a mismatch that turned out to be. Then her ill-timed pregnancy, hoping it would save her unraveling marriage. Even if marrying Rodney had been a mistake, Cooper was a treasure.
Then without thinking it through carefully, Jewel had invested her entire divorce settlement into that art gallery—just a few months before the COVID pandemic hit. Although, in Jewel’s defense, Honey thought that had turned out all right. So why did she want to abandon it now?
Honey ground the steel wool into the cast iron with a vengeance. Sure, not all Jewel’s impulsive choices had foreseeable results, but leave it to that girl to jump out of the frying pan and straight into the fire. Honey just hoped her impetuously headstrong daughter would come to her senses before letting history repeat itself ... again.
2
Jewel
As Jewel walked through her downtown gallery, the thought of being free from this place and the responsibilities that came with it, not to mention being completely debt free with money in the bank, was surprisingly exhilarating. As she closed the front door to block out a siren blaring nearby, her idea to move back to the farm felt like a dream about to come true.
For everyone. It would be a creative reboot for her. A time to do what she loved most, focus on her art. And it would allow her to be a better mother to Cooper. She was tired of being pulled in too many directions. Like she often said to herself, “I’m only one woman.” But she’d been a divided woman. Part-time artist, part-time business owner, part-time mother. With consequently very little time for a personal life.
And what about her parents? They were such good people. In their mid-sixties and about to enjoy the “good life” when her dad was diagnosed with this insidious disease. She knew she’d been a neglectful daughter. But her parents had always had their own lives to live. And they had each other. Sometimes she envied them that.
But their lives were changing. And this was her opportunity to rebuild relationships with them. Perhaps for only a small window of time with her dad. She bit her lip as she straightened an abstractlandscape on the wall. It should be easy being around Mom. They’d always gotten along fairly well. Sure, there was room for improvement in their relationship. And sometimes she felt she didn’t really know her mother. But she knew she was basically an understanding person. Mom’s work in the middle school had exposed her to all kinds of people, and she was gracious and accepting by nature. But Jewel was no fool when it came to Dad.
She and her father had a rich and colorful history of family feuds. Power struggles that began when she was about Cooper’s age and had decided to dress like a goth. She couldn’t help but chuckle to remember that relatively short period of rebellion as she thought of her own daughter. Maybe the apple really hadn’t fallen far from the tree. But, unlike herself, Jewel’s hyper-traditional farmer dad had thrown a fit over her black-outlined eyes and dark clothing. He didn’t understand her need to express herself.
Really, her dad was sweet, but he could be so stubborn and stuck in his ways. Not to mention judgmental and harsh over some things. Especially when it came to his only child. He’d wanted her to remain that sweet, wholesome farm girl forever. When she gave up the goth fad in favor of her first boyfriend, her dad had still held her at arm’s length.
But the last couple times she and Dad had talked on the phone, he seemed different. Almost mellow. To be fair, he mostly talked about his bees and honey making, going on and on about how many jars he’d collected, and circling around, repeating himself ... unless she interrupted. She’d try to be a patient listener, but she’d never been overly fond of bees or honey. Still, she was glad he had a hobby he loved so much.
She continued to scribble relocation chores onto her ever-growing to-do list. Some people couldn’t understand how a creative dreamer like her also liked to get things done, but she’d always been like that. And first on her list was to call Jess. Like her, Jess was an artist, but unlike her, his colorful glasswork pieces were starting to take hold with her clients. So much so, this gallery had become Jess’s largest venue for displaying and sellinghis works. For months he’d been cajoling her with the taunt he would own the place one day.A realistic possibility since his art was definitely her bestseller. She could imagine him rubbing his hands together over her news of selling and moving. She glanced around her handsome gallery. Yes, she’d invested both creativity and finances into this place, nearly starving in the lean years. But hopefully the payoff would be worth it now.
Assuming Jess was in his studio and ignoring his phone, she prepared to leave a message, but then he answered. After some chitchat, she described her Oregon plan and suddenly they were squabbling over the price of her gallery. She knew he wanted it. Badly. Finally she invited him to send her a properly written offer, which she would consider. But she reminded him, with her upgrades and the prime location, her gallery wouldn’t be hard to sell. She wanted a fair price.
“Don’t you want a friend to own it? Someone who will love and respect it like you did? Otherwise it’s like handing over your child to strangers.” His tone was on the verge of pleading, and she felt confident he was in.
“Well, there are days I would hand my flesh-and-blood child over to strangers,” she teased. “But if your offer works for me, this place is yours. Just don’t lowball me, Jess.” Then she hung up. Jess knew she was impulsive, but she hoped he wouldn’t assume she would cave to get out of here. After all, she’d invested a lot into this gallery. She ran a hand over a live edge display table, wondering if she should include this piece in the sale or take it with her.Take it!Her gallery was doing well, and Jess needed to respect that this was not a fire sale. She wasn’t washed up, and she could remain in San Jose indefinitely if she wanted to. The trouble was she didn’t want to. Not anymore. She’d had enough of city life.
She paused from loading flattened cardboard boxes into the back of her SUV, a task about midway down her to-do list, in order to call her best friend Monica. She excitedly told Monica the happy news. “And I’ll have to beg out on that dinner date with you and the girls. I plan to be gone by then.”
