Taking off his gloves, he left them beside the sculpture. His workshop, in the old steamboat museum, was full of tools, steel rods, and heavy-duty machinery. It was one of the few places where he could forget about his past and create unforgettable art.
The wooden door opened, and his friend Owen walked toward him.
“Hi, Steve. It’s good to see you in your workshop. I thought you’d be building the tiny homes,” Owen said as he scanned the room.
“I’ve spent the last three Saturdays working on them. If I don’t get this commission finished, I’ll have an unhappy customer calling me. Aren’t you supposed to be helping your sister with her wedding plans?”
Owen’s gaze lingered on the sculpture beside Steve. “I was, but I needed a break. Plus, I wanted to see how your latest project’s coming along.”
Steve stepped aside to give Owen a better view. Out of everyone he knew, Owen’s opinion mattered the most. As well as being a good friend, he’d opened a glass studio in Sapphire Bay. His bowls, paperweights, vases, and other pieces were some of the best Steve had ever seen.
“It’s calledFerocity of the Ocean,” Steve told his friend. “What do you think?”
“I think you need to start exhibiting your work. It’s amazing.”
Amazing or not, Steve wasn’t prepared to show anyone apart from Owen and his close friends what he did when he wasn’t building the tiny homes. If too many people knew about the sculptures, someone would realize who he was.
“I’m happy creating a few sculptures a year for other people. Besides, it’s more therapy than art.”
Owen touched the edge of a curling, stainless-steel wave, poised as if caught in the moment before crashing into the ocean. “If you change your mind, there’s a gallery in Polson that’d be perfect. Their last exhibition was full of sculptures that weren’t nearly as good as yours.”
A familiar twinge of anxiety knotted Steve’s stomach at the thought of people judging his work. “I’m impressed you went to the exhibition. I thought you’d prefer to look at other glassblowers’ work.”
Owen grinned. “Art is art, and I was curious. If I can open my studio to the public and exhibit my pieces, you can, too. It might be good for you.”
Steve gave a non-committal shrug, his gaze drifting back to the sculpture. “I’ll think about it.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” Owen said with an understanding smile. “How much longer will you be here?”
Steve checked the time. It was a lot later than he thought. “I’ll be going home soon. Why?”
“How about we finish the day with a run? It’s the perfect weather—cool and crisp with just the right amount of daylight left.”
Steve looked at the half-finished sculptures and tools scattered around his workshop. Getting out would do him good. He could step away from the pressure of his latest commission and the shadows that crept into his safe space.
“All right, let me grab my gear,” Steve said, his decision prompting a broad smile from Owen. “Don’t think I’m going easy on you, though. I was distracted on our last run. This time, I plan on beating you.”
“Famous last words,” Owen said as he turned off the air compressor.
Steve took off his welding jacket. “When do you need to be back?”
“Preferably after the stores in Polson close. Daniella’s threatening to take me shopping for a suit. I keep telling her I’m not the one getting married, but she’s not listening. I hope Harrison’s prepared for a life with a woman who doesn’t take no for an answer.”
Crossing the room, Steve took his running gear out of a locker. “Harrison knows exactly what he’s doing, and so will you when you marry Harper.”
Owen grinned. “We’re thinking of tying the knot in mid-December. In case you think you can wiggle out of all the craziness that happens before a wedding, think again. I’d like you to be my best man.”
Steve’s eyebrows rose. “I’m honored, but why me?”
Owen started stretching. “You understand me better than anyone else. Plus, you know Harper almost as well as I do. It feels right.”
Even though he wasn’t good around large groups of people, Steve couldn’t let his friend down. “Then how can I refuse? I’d enjoy being your best man.”
“That’s great.” Owen pointed to Steve’s gym bag. “Now, hurry up and get ready. If I’m not on one of the trails in the next ten minutes, Daniella will track me down and take me shopping.”
Steve wasn’t about to stand between Owen and his sister. So, he threw on his running gear, grabbed his water bottle, and headed for the door.
Without taking a step outside, his mood was already lighter. Owen had a way of ironing out life’s issues and finding what really mattered; good friends, incredible scenery, and the best pizza in town when they finished each run.
