The twinkle in her granddad’s eyes centered all the turbulent thoughts racing through Harper’s mind. He was distracting her from a meeting that could give her nightmares or heal her damaged heart.
Owen stoodat the center of his studio with Harper beside him. The gentle hum of the furnace filled the air, a soothing backdrop to the long hours he’d been working since they’d last met.
The week had gone by quickly as he’d prepared for the upcoming exhibition. The success at the festival had been a welcome surprise, but it also meant he had a lot of work to do.
Today, he was showing Harper how to make a glass bowl. After he’d taken a gather of molten glass from the furnace, he smiled at her. “This,” he said as he rotated the blowpipe, “is where it all begins. The glass needs to be just the right temperature. As it cools, it becomes less workable, which means timing is everything.”
Harper watched intently, her curiosity shining in her eyes as she took in every detail. “And rotating the blowpipe keeps the glass evenly heated?”
“That’s right. I keep reheating the glass in the glory hole to keep it at the right consistency. Too cool, and it could crack; too hot, and it loses shape. It’s a delicate balance.”
He led her through the next steps, showing her the workbench where most of the shaping took place. “Once it’s the right temperature, I roll the glass along the steel bench to create the shape I want.”
As Owen continued to shape the glass, he glanced at Harper. “Did you call the man you looked after in New York?”
Harper took a deep breath, her eyes drifting from the glass to Owen. “I spoke to Henry at the beginning of the week. We’re meeting next Friday.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“It’s... a lot to process.”
Owen could hear the mix of emotions in her voice. He placed the pipe in the glory hole to reheat the glass. “Revisiting that part of your life is a big step. But you’re not the same person you were then.”
Harper’s smile was tinged with sadness. “I keep telling myself it’s just coffee, just catching up. But it’s more than that. It’s facing a part of my past that I left behind for a reason.”
Owen returned to the workbench and nodded. Carefully, he turned the pipe and gently blew into it. “The past made you who you are. You made a difference then and you’re making a difference now.”
Harper watched the glass expand and take shape. “I guess you’re right. But it’s hard to look back and not feel overwhelmed.”
Owen picked up another tool. “I could go with you if it would make it easier.”
Harper shook her head. “Granddad said the same thing, but I’ll be okay.”
She watched, fascinated, as he showed her a technique called ‘punting’, transferring the piece to a new rod to work on the opening of the bowl. “Doing this allows me to open up the bowl and finish the shape.”
Harper leaned against the table. “It must be impossible to make two identical bowls.”
Owen kept working. “Even if I tried to make two bowls the same, I couldn’t.” When he was happy with the shape, he carefully placed the finished piece into the annealing oven to slowly cool it and stop any cracking. Taking off his gloves, he wiped his brow with his forearm. “Meeting Henry is a lot like what we’re doing now. You’re revisiting a heated moment in your past and letting it reshape into something you can handle now.”
Harper smiled. “A philosopher, a police officer, and an artist. Sapphire Bay’s lucky to have you living here.”
Owen laughed. “You should tell my family that. They can’t wait for me to find my own place.”
“Have you spoken to Pastor John? He might know if there’s something you can rent.”
“I spoke to him a few weeks ago. A cottage on Anchor Lane might be available soon.” Owen knew he was lucky to even see the cottage. With the lack of affordable rental accommodation in Sapphire Bay, it was difficult to find anywhere to live. “Once the exhibition’s over, I’ll ask him about it.”
“That’s a good idea.” Harper looked around the studio. “Will you have enough things to display?”
“Ben’s happy to lend me some of the items I’ve sent to the Christmas shop. Between those pieces and what’s here, I should be okay. I’m glad you’re helping me.”
Harper grinned. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Owen returned her smile and gestured toward the furnace. “Are you ready to make a glass bowl?”
“I’ll do my best,” she told him. “But it won’t be half as beautiful as yours.”
“I’ve had a lot more time to practice.” As they moved to the furnace, Owen guided her through the steps. A rush of adrenaline went straight to his heart when Harper’s bowl took shape. It was a moment of pure creation, a chance to mold something beautiful from the chaos, a lot like she hoped to do with her past.
