Jackie raised her eyebrows playfully. “Was Owen happy to give you a tour?”
“He seemed to be.”
Jackie picked up another pair of booties. “Knowing how shy Owen is, that sounds a bit more than just friendly.”
Harper blushed, looking down at her lap. “I don’t know about that. Owen’s always been... well, he’s Owen. But I’m excited to see his work.”
A moment of silence filled the room as Harper’s thoughts drifted back to her childhood, to the days when a teenage Owen seemed like a character from a storybook. “I remember having such a crush on him when I was twelve. He was sixteen and gorgeous. Whenever I saw him, he’d mumble something about having other things to do and disappear. It’s funny to think about that now.”
Jackie smiled. “They’re good memories. Have you decided to stay in Sapphire Bay or are you going back to nursing?”
Harper’s expression turned somber. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot. Nursing in New York during COVID was... it was hard. I still wake up in a cold sweat sometimes, reliving those shifts. Even though it’s not as bad now, I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to the hospital. Besides, Granddad still needs help.”
“Have you thought about talking to someone? Maybe a counselor or joining a support group?” Jackie suggested gently.
“The hospital provided counseling, but it felt like I was putting a lid on what had happened and pushing it to one side. Ethan mentioned Pastor John’s PTSD support group,” Harper admitted, her gaze distant. “I’ve been thinking about going to their next meeting. It might help to talk to people who weren’t involved in what was happening in the hospital.”
Jackie reached for Harper’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It could be good for you. Sometimes, sharing what we’ve gone through makes it easier to bear.”
Harper nodded. Unburdening her heart, even a little, might help her come to terms with what she’d seen. “Maybe I will. Right now, I’m focusing on the festival, and visiting Owen’s studio.”
The room fell into a comfortable silence, filled only with their soft sighs as they sorted through the knitted items. Harper picked up a baby blanket, its yarn a soft blend of pastels. “This is lovely. It’s so soft and the colors are perfect for a nursery.”
Jackie smiled, her eyes full of pride. “Thank you. I made that one thinking about the new moms in town. There’s something special about creating a blanket for a newborn baby.”
Harper carefully placed it in a separate pile for the festival. “There’s something special about all of this,” she said, gesturing to their collection. “Each piece has its own story to tell.”
Jackie agreed, holding up a matching beanie and scarf. “I made these during a snowstorm last winter. They remind me of walking around the lake on crisp mornings, when your breath forms little clouds and your feet scrunch in the snow.”
Harper smiled sadly. “I used to love days like that. I was so busy in New York that I stopped enjoying moments that make me happy.”
“Well, if you stay in Sapphire Bay over the winter, you’ll have plenty of new moments to remember.”
Harper knew her friend wanted her to stay. For now, Sapphire Bay was perfect. But everything depended on her granddad and how long he’d need her.
Chapter4
Owen glanced at the clock on the wall for the tenth time in as many minutes. Harper should be here soon to look around his studio. As he turned down the furnace, he wondered why on earth he’d offered to give her a tour. For anyone not interested in glassblowing, the best you could say about the studio was that it was functional.
There were no fancy lighting fixtures or colorful murals. Apart from the original red-brick walls, the studio was a spacious, practical room designed to make the process of glassblowing as streamlined as possible.
Taking a deep breath, he put away some of his tools. Would Harper appreciate what went into making the type of bowl he’d given her for looking after his dad? Would she realize glassblowing was so much more than a job? It had given him something to focus on, something to fill the long nights when he couldn’t sleep. When his mind replayed the final, distraught moments of his friend’s life.
The front door opened and Harper stepped inside. Her smile didn’t help his pounding heart or make him any surer that he’d made the right decision to invite her here. At least her eyes were full of curiosity and awe. That had to be a good start.
“Hi, Owen. I can’t believe I haven’t been here before now. Your studio’s only a short walk from A Stitch in Time.”
Owen cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. “That’s one of the reasons I chose this location. If I decide to sell my products from here, it’s near to the other stores on Main Street.”
Harper’s gaze swept across the room, taking in the furnace, the annealing oven, and the shelves laden with glass bowls and vases. “This is incredible. I didn’t know glassblowing involved so many pieces of equipment,” she said, her voice filled with genuine interest.
Owen led her to the furnace, explaining how it was the start of the glassblowing process. His hands were steady as he showed her the tools he used to melt the glass but, inside, he was acutely aware of Harper’s presence. Especially when her attention was focused on him and his work.
“I thought about showing you how to make something, but I wasn’t sure how much time you had.”
Harper ran her hand along the large steel workbench in the middle of the room. “Granddad’s neighbor is with him at the moment. I have to be back by two o’clock, so it’s probably better that you don’t show me now.”
Owen nodded. “Maybe another time, then. It must be difficult juggling your job and looking after your granddad.”
