“Please. I only know Megan Riley, she helped me when I set up my business.” Willow went to the refrigerator and took her card off the front and handed it to him.
“I don’t know her, but as I said let me look into this.”
“Okay. Now that Mr. Evans is gone, I’m going to say thank you for coming to my rescue and kick you out. I’m going to order some Chinese and call it a night.” They all gave her a hug and told her to call if she needed anything, and Mick locked the door behind his friends and turned to Willow.
“Walk Gypsy and me out through the connecting door and lock it behind us. I don’t think Mr. Evans will be back tonight, but you never know.”
“Then shouldn’t I leave it unlocked in case I need you quickly?”
“Unfortunately, we’re heading out to a party at a different location. You caught us as we were getting ready to leave. But yes, I’ll leave our side unlocked andif you need to get away, just slip in and lock your side behind you.”
“Thanks, Mick,” she said, and hugged him again. She locked the door and went back to call her order in. As she waited, she wandered her apartment. But it was big enough to be a whole house. Years ago, when she’d met Magnolia, and found her calling in making pottery, she had been looking for the perfect location to set up shop. She’d found this old warehouse that was huge. When she’d put an offer in on it, it had become a bidding war between her and Mick and Gypsy. At one point she’d found who she was going against and talked to them.
They had only wanted half of it for a motorcycle shop and maybe a couple of rooms. With her own real estate agent, along with theirs, Willow had invited them to all walk through, and they discussed what they wanted to do. She told them her plans, wanting to open up a pottery shop where she could work and fire her clay but sell it off-site. However, she would convert the upstairs offices into bedrooms and actually live on the upper floors. Mick didn’t want to live on site.
After much discussion, they had pooled their money, and both purchased the building and divided it. Willow had agreed to be like an onsite night security person. So once the purchase had gone through, Mick had several of his men convert the offices on the second level to huge bedrooms and on the third floor, they’d made her own bedroom and en-suite bathroom. He’d also hooked up a security camera showing the outside of his bike shop, and the monitors were on Willow’s side of the building, and if she saw anythingsuspicious after hours, she was to call Mick. So far it had worked out.
What she loved about the situation was that the bike shop was in front of the building and they had all the glass windows so people driving by could look in and see the bikes on display. She had taken the back, which used to be a delivery bay and converted it to her shop. All deliveries for her and the bike shop came to her. Still worked out well. The delivery men had learned that if it was for the shop next door to put it in a particular corner. And when Mick or one of the guys came over, they’d automatically stop and see if they had anything. It had taken two years for the bike shop to become fully functional, so now someone was there all day. It took pressure off Willow, and she only monitored things at night.
When her food finally arrived, she settled in at the kitchen island and ate a solitary meal. Usually, it wouldn’t have bothered her, but tonight, for some reason, it did. As she ate, she wondered what it would be like to have an actual husband. Someone who came home every night and they shared a meal and talked about their days. She had never given this a thought, but for some reason, as she looked around her lonely kitchen, she could picture Mr. Christopher Evans sharing the space with her. After her meal, she picked up her book, but found she couldn’t concentrate, so she picked up her sketchbook instead. Hours later, she stretched, and after double checking the locks, made her way to bed.
Chapter 11
“May I help you?” Tom asked the older couple as they parked in the lot before the bike shop, got out and approached the store. It was currently closed, had been for the last hour, but he and Bill were working on their own personal bikes in the lot.
“Yes, we’re looking for Wanda?”
“Sorry, no one here by that name.” He dismissed them and went back to what he had been doing.
“Listen to me, young man,” the older man said firmly. “We were told our daughter lives here and this is the address we were given. We’re not leaving until we see our daughter. You have about three seconds before I call the cops.”
“Listen up, Pops.” Bill rose to his six-foot four height and took a menacing step forward, then suddenly yelped and lunged to the side. He whipped around and yelled, “What the hell, Willow! What did I do to deserve the hose?”
“You’re harassing my parents, that’s what.” She aimed the hose at him again, and he quickly raised his hands and backed away. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t realize.” He frowned then said, “But they’re looking for Wanda.”
“Every girl’s got to have their secrets.” She grinned and because she could. She blasted him again with the ice-cold water. “Now apologize to my parents.”
“I’m sorry.” He turned, and the expression on his face made Angie giggle. “I didn’t know her name was Wanda. I only know her as Willow.”
“Understandable.” Angie grinned, then reached up and patted his face. “Everyone makes mistakes now and then.” Then she turned and with her hands on her hips glared at her daughter. “If you think you’re going to turn that hose on me, young lady, you can think again.”
Willow grinned, dropped the hose and rushed forward and hugged her mother. “Mom, Dad.” She sighed and hugged them tighter. When they broke apart, she told them to follow her. She picked up the hose and dragged it behind her, but her father took it from her and put it away.
Willow said, “I do live here. My workshop is in the back, and I live upstairs. Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”
“First, what the hell happened to you, baby girl?” Randall looked his youngest daughter up and down and actually curled his nose.
“Follow me, and I’ll explain.” She grinned. She walked between them and started. “As you both know when I left Oregon, I traveled a bit. I went to places I’d always wanted to see. Sort of a bucket list sort of thing. I had left New Orleans and was headed to the Grand Canyon when I got tired and pulled over in a small town. I got a motel room, ate supper and went to bed early. Twelve hours later, I woke and from my motel room window I could look down on the town, and I decided to explore.
“I found a sign in the window where a woman was giving free pottery classes that day.” She stepped to the side and indicated her workshop behind her. “Remember when I was growing up, I was a klutz? I’d drop a glass or a plate, and it’d seem like I’d breakwhatever I touched?” At their nods, she grinned. “The minute I laid my hands on that wet clay on the potter’s wheel, it was like this calm came over me. I was instantly clear-headed, focused, and comfortable. Long story short, I never made it to the Grand Canyon, I worked with Magnolia, the woman who gave the lesson. I worked with her for six months and found this place. I was in a buying war with the owner of the bike shop. We both wanted the building. He wanted the front for the public access, I wanted the back for the privacy.
“We came to an agreement and we co-own the building. This is my shop, and I live upstairs. It’s worked out for both of us. They’ve set up an extensive security system that not only protects the bike shop, but my apartment also. I’m the only one here at night. If something happens, the guys are only a phone call away and Mick, the owner, even set up a panic room for me. I’m safe, happy, I have a career I love, and I’m good at what I do, and I’m making good money.” She stepped back and indicated her workshop and as soon as her father saw the potter’s wheel, he looked at her and grinned.
“Glorified mud pies?”
“Yes.” She laughed when a flash of memory came to her of making mud pies when she was younger. “Only now I get paid to make them.”
“Wanda, I have this. Fern and I found one like this in a little artisan craft shop. Do you know who did this?” Angie held up a vase of about two feet tall that was done in mosaic greens.
