“I don’t think so.”
“It actually looks much better on,” Willow told her.
“What else do you have?” Josie came into the closet and began to look around. “How about this?” She held up one of Willow’s favorite tops. “Boho chic?”
“That would look good on you.”
“I have a pair of jeans that aren’t too bad.” Josie held the top up in front of the mirror. “Whaddya think?”
“I think you’d look lovely.” Willow touched Josie’s stringy hair, which, as usual, needed a good shampoo. “How about a pair of sandals? You still wear an eight?”
“Yeah.”
Willow held up a pair of woven leather platform sandals that she no longer felt comfortable in due to the height. “You can have these if you want.”
“Really? These are cool, Mom. Thanks.” She pointed to the sundress still lying on the bed. “Maybe I’ll take that too. Just in case.”
“Great. Now I better get down there,” Willow told her. “But there’s no hurry for you. Things don’t usually get going until around seven. You could even grab a shower if you like.”
“As in hint-hint?” Josie’s tone was sharp, but her grin was sassy.
“Just saying.” Willow slid her feet into her own sandals, a low-heeled pair, comfortable enough to get her through the night, but blinged out with rhinestones. “See you later, honey.”
As Willow went down to the gallery, she prayed a silent prayer for Josie . . . that she would start finding her place in this town—and in the world at large. Willow was actually encouraged that Josie was interested in socializing. She just hoped her unpredictable daughter wouldn’t make a scene. And knowing that Collin would be there didn’t exactly foster confidence.
eighteen
By Friday evening, George and Baxter were the best of friends. But now George felt foolish and petty for treating Willow so badly this morning. Had he really called her a “camel’s nose”? Oh my.
“I guess I should try to fix things with her,” he told Baxter as he dried the last of his dinner dishes. He considered calling Willow with an apology and proper thank-you, but he remembered that she’d mentioned tonight’s Final Friday gallery show. George hung up the damp dish towel, then leaned down to pet Baxter. “What do you think, fellow . . . would you miss me for an hour or so?”
Baxter just rubbed against his legs, almost as if to confirm he would be fine on his own. Then George changed into a fresh shirt and put on a tie and jacket. “Do you like classical music?” he asked Baxter as he turned on his radio—tuned, as usual, to the classical channel. “Let Mozart keep you company for a bit.”
George gave Baxter a kitty treat then headed out the door. While strolling to town, he rehearsed his apology. He knew he’d have to keep it short and sweet in case the gallery was busy, and since it was past seven, he expected it would be. After his apology, George planned to reassure her that Baxter was settling in just fine and promised to be a wonderful addition to George’s simple household. And then he would go.
Strains of music floated out the open door of the Willow West gallery. As he’d expected, the place was crowded. George felt a rush of nerves as he went inside. Not for the first time, he wondered, how did this woman manage to continually push him out of his comfort zone?
“Hello, Mr. Emerson.” Marissa looked happy to see him. “Welcome to the show. We have some really great pieces tonight. And refreshments in the back.”
Collin came over to say hello as well. Like Marissa, he was so warm and congenial that George hoped Willow hadn’t told him about last weekend’s balloon ride fiasco.
“How’s your job at the bookstore going?” George asked Collin.
“Really great. I’m already full-time.”
“Good for you.” George scanned the crowd in search of Willow, spying her on the far side of the gallery.
“You should come in next week and say hello,” Collin told him. “We’re having a little competition of getting customers signed up in the Book Nook Club.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a promotion that includes discount coupons and special invitations to Book Nook events.”
George nodded. “Well, I’ll be sure to come by.”
“Hello, Mr. Emerson.” Josie, looking much nicer than George had ever seen her, came over to join them. She had a plastic cup of red wine in one hand and cheese in the other. “Cool gathering, huh?”
“Yes, it’s very nice.”
“Free wine too.” She giggled.
“Looks like it’s time to cut you off,” Collin said a bit sharply.
“Says who, Junior?” Josie narrowed her eyes at him as she popped the cheese into her mouth.
“I’ll just go let Leslie know that you’ve had enough,” Collin said firmly.
“Butt out,” she said a bit too loudly.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” Collin said quietly. “I don’t think you’re planning on purchasing any—”
“Who died and made you the bouncer?” she snarled at him.
“Hey, you guys.” Marissa’s eyes grew wide. “Maybe you should take it outside.”
“Don’t tell me where to take it,” Josie shot back at her.
“Excuse me,” George said in his no-nonsense voice. “I don’t want to interrupt this family exchange.” He looked at Josie. “But I never got to see your apartment after it was all put back together. Any chance you’d show it to me tonight?”
Josie still looked like she wanted to punch her son in the face, but to George’s relief she turned to him and nodded. “Sure. I’ve seen enough of this art. Come on up and I’ll show you what I’ve been working on this week.”
George smiled at Collin and Marissa, then, without another word, took Josie by the arm and led her out. “You’re looking quite nice tonight,” he told her once they were outside.
“Thank you very much.” She tossed her empty cup into a nearby trash bin. “Right this way, Mr. Emerson. Come and have the grand tour of my crazy crayon box.”
George tried not to wince as they entered the wildly colorful apartment. “You certainly have livened it up even more,” he said as she showed him the lime-green living room. Between the bright prints on the floor pillows and throw rugs and wall hangings, there wasn’t a spot in the room where an eye could rest peacefully.
“Mom helped me make the slipcover for the sofa. But I’d still like a couple more chairs. In case I ever have friends over.”
“I might have something you can use,” George told her. “I did a bit of looking in my attic, but I didn’t get too far.”
“And I still need a table and chairs for in here.” As she turned on the kitchen light, George resisted the urge to blink. “I’d like something I could paint.”
“Of course.”
“Come and see the shower curtain in my bathroom,” she called out. “It was inspired by you.”
“I can’t wait,” he murmured.
She turned on the bathroom light and George peered in to see a tropical-looking ocean scene. “That’s my Mediterranean,” she told him.
“Very nice.” He nodded with approval. It was actually the least jarring part of her apartment so far.
“And now you have to see my bedroom. Mom dug out this really cool tie-dyed quilt that she made when she was in college.”
George prepared himself for more eye pain as she turned on the overhead light. But to his relief, although it was multiple shades of purples, it wasn’t too bad. “Very nice,” he said.
“I just need a couple of nightstands and lamps.”
“Well, maybe you’d like to come over to browse around in my grandparents’ attic,” he said as they returned to the living room. “Unless it’s a family heirloom, I’m happy to part with most anything up there.”
“Cool.” She pointed to the couch. “Have a seat if you want.”
“I don’t know.” He sighed as he sat down. He still hadn’t done what he’d come here for, but the gallery had
been so busy. And Willow hadn’t even cast a glance his way. Not that he could blame her.
“Are you sad, Mr. Emerson?”
He pursed his lips. “No. Just preoccupied, I suppose.”
“You were disappointed in me and Collin, weren’t you?”
He considered this. “Well, to be honest, it was a bit disturbing.”
“I honestly don’t know why we fight so much. I think Collin just plain hates me.”
“I don’t know about that.” George wondered how much to say. “But it almost looks like sibling rivalry to me.”
“We are not siblings.”
“Not actually. But Willow is like a mother to both of you.”
“Maybe . . . but don’t you think Collin should show me more respect? After all, I am his mother.”
“Do you always show your mother respect?”
Her smile looked sheepish.
“And to be fair to Collin, he’s not really known you as his mother. It’s a lot to expect him to treat you like that now.”
“I know. And I don’t even want him to. I just wish he didn’t always pick fights with me.”
“Fights are usually a two-way street.”
“So you’re saying I’m partly to blame?”
“What do you think?” He looked evenly at her.
“You were an English teacher, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, you talk more like a shrink.”
George smiled with amusement.
“But I suppose you could be right.”
They both sat quietly for a bit. The only sound was the strains of music drifting up through the floorboards. Finally George spoke. “Josie, what are your plans? For your future? What do you intend to do with your life?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Well, it seems to me that Willow is giving you a great opportunity to take full ownership over your life. You could get some kind of training or go to college or—”
“I do not want to go to college,” she declared hotly.
“Why not?”
Her brow creased. “The truth?”
“That’s usually the best route.”
“I’m stupid.”
“Stupid?” He frowned. “You’re not stupid to me, Josie. If anything, you’re rather sharp and witty. You certainly have a fast tongue.”
She grinned. “Smart mouth, you mean.”
“Whatever you want to call it. I doubt that you’re stupid.” He pointed to the bright room. “And you appear to have some artistic talent. Admittedly, it’s not my taste, but I’m sure there are people who like this sort of thing. Have you ever considered following your mother’s example?”
She tilted her head to one side. “You really think I could do that?”
“Like I said, I’m no judge on this sort of thing. But your mother could probably advise you. She’s certainly succeeded in the art world.”
“Wow, that would be cool if I could make a living doing art.”
“Although I’ve heard that some artists have to get a day job to support their art—initially.”
“That’d be okay.” Josie stood, pacing across the floor with a hopeful expression. “I could handle doing a boring day job if I had something else going on.” She turned to look at George. “You said you’ve got a lot of junk in your grandparents’ attic, right? Stuff you want to get rid of. Except for the family heirlooms.” She pointed to a little table that was busily painted in a colorful checkerboard and stripes and dots. “What if I did more things like this with old pieces of junk—do you think I could sell it?”
George wanted to say that he’d never pay good money for something like that, but instead he nodded. “I’ll bet there are folks out there who’d purchase something like that.” Some crazy folks, he was thinking. “After all, I’m sure that, like beauty, art is in the eyes of the beholder.”
“Mr. Emerson, you’re like a mentor to me. Did you know that?”
George wanted to protest this, but didn’t want to crush her. “Well, that’s nice.” He slowly stood. “And we’ll have to schedule a time for you to come go through the attic. But I left my cat at home alone and I feel I should get back to him.” He quickly explained that it was Baxter’s first day in a strange home.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “You better make sure he’s okay. I had a kitten once, when I was little. Her name was Bingo and she went kind of nutty every time we left her home alone. She tore up so much stuff that I finally had to give her away.”
“Right.” George thanked her for her apartment tour, said goodbye, and—worried that Baxter might’ve gone “nutty” in his absence—hurried toward home. To his relief, Baxter was just fine and nothing in his house was damaged. But he still needed to apologize and thank Willow. Maybe tomorrow.
It wasn’t until the art show was ending that Willow finally got to speak to Collin and Marissa. “Did I see Mr. Emerson here tonight?” she asked.
“Yes,” Collin told her, “but he left with Josie.”
“Really?” She tried not to look too surprised.
“After Josie and Collin got into a fight,” Marissa clarified.
“You got in a fight with Josie?” Willow asked Collin.
“She had too much to drink. I just wanted her to go easy.”
“Oh dear.”
“But Mr. Emerson did a great intervention,” Marissa told her. “He asked to see Josie’s apartment. They left and he never came back.”
“I see.” Willow tried to act like this was a perfectly natural explanation. But the truth was, her head was whirling. Collin and Josie had gotten into a fight? George had intervened? Then spent the evening with Josie? It sounded crazy. “Did Mr. Emerson mention a cat?”
“A cat?” Marissa frowned.
“I didn’t hear anything about a cat,” Collin told her. “Whose cat?”
“Never mind.”
“Well, if you don’t need us, I told Marissa I’d get her a coffee at Common Grounds. They’ve got music there too.”
She thanked them for their help and, still feeling confused about George’s strange visit to the gallery tonight, she went to help Leslie clean up the refreshment table. She seriously doubted that George was still in Josie’s apartment at this late hour, but she was tempted to go up there and ask Josie for her take on the evening.
By the time Willow locked up the gallery, she was too tired to engage with Josie. No telling how that could go. She went quietly up the stairs to her apartment. Her questions about George and Baxter and Josie could wait until morning. But, as she got ready for bed, she felt aggravated. Why had George shown up like that tonight? And then gone off with Josie and not come back? What about Baxter? Had George come by to inform her that he didn’t want the cat? Had he possibly given the cat to Josie? Willow hoped not. Josie could barely take care of herself. She did not need a cat.
Willow knew that these obsessive thoughts were not conducive to a good night’s rest. So, in an effort to relax and quiet her mind, she tuned her radio to a classical station, turned the volume down low, and drifted off to sleep.
nineteen
By the next morning, Willow was determined to put all troublesome thoughts concerning George and Baxter behind her. In fact, she was ready to put George Emerson behind her. Her distraction was to spend the day in her studio. And since it was supposed to hit triple digits today, the basement-level studio sounded like the perfect place to be. Plus, with the interest some of her pottery had received last night, including two sales, she felt inspired to work with clay today. She was just using a wire to cut a large vase from the wheel when she heard someone calling her name.
“Down here,” she yelled, pausing to see who it was.
George appeared out of the shadows with a sheepish expression. “Sorry to interrupt you while you’re working,” he told her. “But Leslie told me you were down here.”
“Hello, George.” She kept her voice cool as she continued to remove the vase then carefully set it
on a drying board. She turned to look at him. “What can I do for you?”
“First of all, you can accept my sincere apology,” he said.
“Apology for what?” She wiped her hands on a rag and waited.
“For a couple of things.” He sighed. “First of all, for the way I behaved on the hot-air-balloon ride. I realize now that you thought I would enjoy it, but—”
“Oh, George, it was thoughtless of me. I can see that now. I should’ve known that you don’t like surprises. I just felt that once you were on it, you would see how much fun it could be. But I had no idea you had a fear of heights.”
“Yes, well, I’ve heard that we should face our fears in order to get past them.”
“Maybe so, but it should be your choice. Not forced upon you.” She smiled. “And you’re right, I am like a camel’s nose. I’m too pushy. I need to back off. I understand that. So if you accept my apology, I’ll accept yours.”
He nodded. “Accepted. But I have another one to make. I treated you abominably yesterday when you brought Baxter to me. I’m sorry.”
“To be fair, that was similar to the balloon ride. I am a camel’s nose. I pushed too hard and sprung it on you without warning.”
“It’s true that you caught me off guard by not asking first. But it’s also true that if you’d asked me first—if you’d given me the option to adopt a cat—I would’ve firmly told you no thank you. Because I did not want a cat. Not in the least.”
“Well then. I’m happy to take him off your hands. I think he is a wonderful cat and I’m glad to—”
“But I do want him.” George looked worried. “You’re right. Baxter is a wonderful cat. And he is quite comfortably at home with me. We are well suited to each other.”
“Oh.”
“That’s why I need to apologize. Not only was I horribly rude to you, Willow, but it turned out you were right. I sincerely thank you for bringing me Baxter.”
Willow felt her resolve to distance herself from George melting. “So you really do like him? He looked like such a fabulous cat. I honestly wanted to keep him.”
“I can understand that. But I feel that he’s very happy with me. I’m such a homebody now that I’m retired. And you’re always on the go or working in the gallery. I think Baxter could be lonely with your lifestyle.”
Courting Mr. Emerson Page 17
