“You would think so, but no.Mr.Bryant says Tempest didn’t have a clue when she was going to pass away or how long she had left to live.But he did say Aunt was sure about one thing—all her stuff was to be left to me.”
“And she never even met you.”Tallie is amazed.“It just goes to show, it’s best to stay far away from people if you want them to have a good opinion of you.”
Taking another sip of tea, I smile a little.“I hope that’s a generalization.As for me, I’m sad I never got to know my aunt.From what Mr.Bryant was telling me, she sounds like a wonderful person.”
Getting up from the deckchair where she was sitting, Tallie goes to turn on the kiln.All the chairs in the studio are either patio furniture rejects or seriously secondhand.Interior decorating is not our strong suit.
“What did Auntie Tempest leave you?”
Pulling a sheet of paper out of my bag, I squint down at the columns of words and rows of numbers.
“Tempest left me her property in Landslide.All of her possessions in Landslide.And her savings—about a quarter of a million dollars after what I have to pay in U.S.taxes and legal fees.”
The paper drops from my hand and flutters to the floor.It’s hard to take in.Such generosity from a relative I never even knew.
After saying some juicy swear words, Tallie whips out her phone and starts tapping.
“Landslide… Google Maps, Google should find it.Okay…” Looking up at me, Tallie frowns.“It’s not on the map.”
Time for me to explain.“The name’s a bit of a clue, Tal.You won’t find it on any map.Mr.Bryant told me there was a massive mudslide or earthquake way back, which caused a tidal island to form in one of the creeks flowing into the Lake of the Woods.That’s Landslide, I guess.”
Her thumbs flying, Tallie taps the lake name.“Okay, Lake of the Woods.Got it.God!It’s beautiful.”
“Landslide is at the perfect point where the northwest top of the Continental U.S.intersects the Canadian states of Manitoba and Ontario.”
Bending to check the kiln temperature thermostat, Tallie frowns.“So, where is it?Canada or the States?”
Draining my mug of tea, I move to the plastic bucket that acts as our kitchen sink to rinse it out.
“Neither.And both.It’s not like two countries would want to go to war over who gets to own a pile of mud.I guess Landslide belongs to both sides.A few logger families settled on the island when everyone was sure it wasn’t going to slide away again.And so did dear old Auntie Tempest’s father.”
A slight frown creases Tallie’s face.“I suppose this is the part where you tell me what you’re going to do with your new Landslide house.”
I mull it over as I do the rest of the dishes.Tallie is used to me tuning out like this.Sometimes I can sit and stare off into space for hours, my sketchpad lying blank on my lap.
Tallie is a talented potter and ceramicist.We started collaborating in art college.She crafted terracotta pottery, and I wanted to create authentic mosaics similar to those made in the ancient world.After I approached the student called Tallie Markham to ask if I could have the shards of all those unpainted terracotta pots that had shattered in the kiln, she was happy to give them to me.
Prematurely gray and full of energy, her sunny personality hid Tallie’s determination and ambition—an ambition that matched my own.Our dreams aligned.We would not stop until we were nationally recognized and celebrated artists.
Only a few years later, we were.And we still are.
Tallie’s amphorae and hand-painted tiles are sought after all over the world by collectors.As for me, I got my first mosaic installation commission not long after finishing college, and I haven’t looked back since.
I adore the soft earth tones of different clay soils, and I love piecing tiny broken squares of pottery together to form Grecian and Roman inspired scenes and images.Just like artists used to do thousands of years ago.
Bar a two-year stint in Italy, where I helped archeologists repair murals and mosaic flooring in Pompei, Tallie and I have shared a studio at South St.Anthony Park, just off University Avenue in St.Paul, for eight years.
“I think I’m going to drive up there.It can’t hurt to take a look around.”
Tallie and I don't say what we’re thinking out loud.
My ex, Giulio, went back to Italy three months ago.To say it knocked me for a bit of a loop is an understatement.His decision to leave me seemed soarbitrary.
We hooked up in Italy during my work there, and he loved me enough to follow me to America.
After cohabiting with someone for seven years, it never dawned on me that my relationship with Giulio would not follow a natural trajectory.Engagement, wedding, marriage, in that order.But it turned out Mr.Giulio di Bari had a different idea in mind.
I’d walked into my apartment—I’d paid down the deposit on a mortgage for a one-bedroom condo with a view of the river with my first commission check—to find my long-term boyfriend throwing things into an unzipped carry-on case.It was one of those generic compact luggage brands with an extendable handle and wheels.
