After Harper left the room, Steve grinned. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Owen’s eyes widened. “You were flirting with Harper.”
“It’s called talking. You’ll need to practice if you’re seeing her again. Otherwise, she’ll think you aren’t attracted to her.”
Owen didn’t bother telling Steve he wasn’t attracted to Harper because he was. “I knew her when she had pigtails and braces. I don’t want to complicate things or make her feel awkward.”
Steve picked up a drill, ready to get back to work. “She’s not in pigtails anymore. Sometimes the best things in life come when you step out of your comfort zone.”
As Owen took another acrylic sheet out of a box, a part of him felt hopeful. Maybe showing Harper the studio would be a good first step. A chance to share his love of glassblowing and maybe explore the connection he felt with her.
If she wasn’t interested in getting to know him, she’d tell him. And, if that happened, at least she’d know how he’d made the glass bowl he’d given her.
Harper carrieda box into Jackie’s living room and sat on the floor. She was sorting through all the donated knitting for the festival with her friend, trying to bring some order to the hand-knitted items that were arriving at the store.
She loved spending time in Jackie’s home. The old-fashioned cottage was the type of house she’d always dreamed of owning. With walls adorned with photos and an assortment of novels and knitting guides filling the bookcases, it was the opposite of the poky apartment she’d shared with her friends in New York.
“What do you think of this one?” Jackie reached into the box beside her and held up a chunky, cable-knit beanie, its deep maroon yarn rich and inviting.
Harper leaned forward, her fingers tracing the intricate pattern. “It’s beautiful. The pattern looks great with the color the knitter chose. Who made it?”
Jackie placed it on the coffee table with the other hand-knitted beanies for the festival. “A woman in the store’s Wednesday knitting group made it. Someone in the community donated ten enormous bags of yarn and they’ve been knitting nonstop to get everything finished for the festival.”
Harper looked in her box and found another beanie. This one was bright pink with a large white crocheted flower on the side. There were scarves with delicate lace patterns, vibrant baby blankets, and a couple of quirky patterned socks that looked cozy enough to ward off the coldest of winters.
“Did they make everything in these boxes?”
Jackie nodded and picked up a soft, teal scarf. “I wish I could knit more, but the store takes up most of my time. I miss losing myself in a pattern and forgetting everything else that’s on my mind.”
Harper smiled. “Knitting in the evenings has been a sort of refuge for me, especially when I’m with Granddad. It’s quiet and peaceful. Plus, it feels nice to create something with your own hands, doesn’t it?”
Jackie nodded, her eyes taking on a wistful look. “It does. How’s your granddad doing?”
“He’s okay. Some days are better than others.” Harper carefully folded the scarf. “The stroke changed a lot for him. But he’s strong. He said having me there helps him remember happier times.”
“What about your mom? Will she come back to Sapphire Bay to look after him?”
“Mom can’t leave because of her job,” Harper told her. “She wants Granddad to move to Polson, but he refuses to leave his house.”
Jackie walked across the room and picked up another box of knitting. “It’s just as well he’s got you.”
“I’m the lucky one,” Harper murmured. “It’s great spending time with Granddad. He can’t walk as far as he once did, but he still has the same sense of humor. He keeps telling me he’s buying a Ferrari to drive around town.”
Jackie grinned. “I can imagine him doing something like that.”
Harper reached into her box and pulled out a pair of hand-knitted gloves covered in a delicate snowflake pattern. “Someone will fall in love with these at the festival. They’ll be perfect for early morning walks when it’s a little chilly.”
Jackie pointed to another box. “I’ve left all the gloves in the box beside the fireplace. Speaking of the festival, Paris said you sat beside Owen at the first community meeting. Is he selling his glass at the festival?”
Harper left the gloves with the others. “He is. I had to drop something off at the old steamboat museum last night. He was making acrylic shelving for his booth with a friend of his.”
Jackie’s eyes widened. “That sounds interesting. I was going to take some of the wooden display shelves from the store, but they’re too heavy and too large. Acrylic shelving would be much better.”
“I’m seeing Owen tomorrow night. I could ask him if he has any he could lend you.”
“That’d be wonderful,” Jackie said. “I’m surprised you had a conversation with Owen. He doesn’t talk to many people.”
Harper lifted a pair of booties and a baby’s jacket out of the box. “He was fine with me, but that might be because we know each other. He offered to show me around his studio. Well, his friend, Steve, was there and volunteered Owen to show me the studio.”
