I know Rebecca Everly. I know she loves her children more than anything. I know that by asking this, she truly wants the best for Stella. I also know that this question is causing Stella massive anxiety.
“Not yet, Mom. I?—”
“You’re teaching,” I say, glancing from Stella to her mother. She isn’t some sacrifice on the altar. She doesn’t have to do something she hates to make others happy or prove herself.
“Teaching? Teaching what?” Rebecca says.
There’s rustling beneath Stella’s comforter, and then I am pinched right on the stomach. I jerk next to her and Rebecca glances over at me.
“It’s nothing, Mom.” She’s been so excited about her lesson with Noreen; she has another tonight. “Just a little pottery wheel lesson.”
“She’s getting paid to teach people to use the pottery wheel, and she’s been commissioned to make a piece for one of my teammates. Things are taking off over here.”
“Is that so?” Rebecca’s brows lift, her interest piqued.
Stella slaps the phone to her chest. “What are you doing? Things are not taking off! You are giving her false hope.”
“They’re going to. And you’re working.Own it.” I inch forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, to which Stella pinches my side once more.
“Stella?” Rebecca says. “Hello?”
She holds the phone back out, leaning against the headboard of her bed. “Yes, I am working—a little. I’m hopeful for more.” She glances once my way, then back to her mother.
“That’s nice, honey. It’s probably smart to wait until after the holidays for a real job anyway.”
Man, Mrs. E is not making it easy. “She’s working on making this herrealjob,” I tell my mother-in-law. “It’s going to work out. Our girl’s got talent.”
Rebecca’s smile is curt. “Okay, then.”
Stella slams her eyes shut, only for a moment, before opening them once more. “Sweetheart,” she says, calling me by the name she made me vow never to say again. “Can you give me just a minute with Mom?”
I narrow my gaze at her. “Sure,pumpkin.” The endearment only earns me another pinch.
“Goodbye, Roman. Scott and I plan to come watch you play, too—as soon as we are able!”
I stand from my spot and look at Stella. “Own it,” I whisper before heading out to make my wife a very sugar-filled breakfast. That always seems to cheer her up.
Forty-Four
More than two weeks later,I have met with Noreen five more times. I have created a set of bowls for my mother, and while I am anxious to give them to her, they look like Mom to me. I think she’s going to love them.
I made a long-necked vase with etched roses for Fran and Callum’s wedding. And I made an entire teacup set for Fran’s soon-to-be mother-in-law.
My hands are dirty, and my heart is full.
I’ve spent multiple hours carving and painting the very first piece I made in this cabin. The bowl that I crafted without a plan and only my heart. I’m using a peacock glaze technique to give it a watery, iridescent, color-shifting effect. It’s fantastic. I’m calling it my “soul piece,” made without any direction or a plan. Just like I married Roman. And it’s going to be Roman’s Christmas gift. A piece of my soul.
Noreen holds up the coffee mug she’s finally completed for Kermit. “It’s lovely.”
And it is.
She’s made a bowl-shaped mug, and I taught her to applya drip-glaze. She went heavy on one side, but the green she chose is pretty, and the piece is unique.
And she loves it.
“I’m so proud of you, Gram,” Rosalie says.
“You know, I’m quite proud of myself.” Noreen looks from her granddaughter to her mug to me. “Same time next week?”
