Natalie shrugged. “Parents would surely be unhappy and disgusted if I wheeled out a couple of trash cans for kids to root through the way I do. In addition to that sandy clay stuff and coloring pages, I want to have a sculpting station using pipe cleaner sculptures. We can have clean bins full of new items for them to use. Easier for little hands and bright brains.”
“Those are great ideas.”
She appreciated the validation. “Thanks. We’ll see what comes in. One way or another, it’ll be a blast.”
Celeste grinned. “As I said, you’re remarkable. I’m so glad you’re my sister.” The wistfulness in her sister’s gaze squeezed Natalie’s heart. Obviously, Celeste’s big plans for life had gone off the rails when she was widowed so young. Her sister thrived on timelines and spreadsheets and long-term goals. Natalie knew she’d hoped for children and for a split second, she was furious with the universe for denying Celeste that joy.
Delaying, she corrected herself immediately. The universe wasn’t keeping Celeste single. Her sister was doing that all on her own. Although tempted, Natalie never said a word to her directly. She was in no position to criticize, nudge, or advise. Her marriage didn’t even count. At the time Natalie had been fooled by the illusion of love. What she’d felt for Jackson was nothing like the passion and commitment Celeste and Brian had shared.
“Same goes,” Natalie replied. “You’ve never let us flounder. You’re the glue that holds us together while we grow and do our own things. I love you so much. Do you need me to stay and work here today?”
“No.” Celeste waved her off. “Please go do your thing. Just do it knowing how amazing you are.”
Giving her sister a big hug, Nat went to dress and was out the door a few minutes later. She took her bicycle, mainly because she wanted to take a circuit of the island before diving into work. The fresh air always helped clear her head. She needed that right now with the combination of creative ideas, sisterly concern, and a certain hunky man zipping through her mind.
When she reached the gallery on Central, she went straight to her store room and made a full inventory of the items on hand. If she wanted a variety of creative options for the music festival booth, she would need to make her final decisions, send out emails, and place any online orders by the end of the week to allow for shipping.
When she had two full lists—what was here and what she hoped to add—she found several pipe cleaners and pulled out her basket of smaller scraps to make a few mock ups to promote the booth activities. Having the examples ready to go would make it easy to take pieces with her on her upcoming school visits as good promotion.
She was struggling to bring a mock-up of her pipe cleaner person to life when she heard someone call her name.
Corey, the big mechanic from the marina’s repair shop, was striding her way. He had a cardboard box in one hand and that familiar reserved expression on his face. As if he didn’t want to bother her.
She smiled brightly, hoping someday he’d be more relaxed from the start of a conversation. “Hey Corey, how’s it going?”
“Good.” It came out almost like a question, as if he hadn’t decided. He cleared his throat. “It’s a good day.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” The guy was so kind underneath all that quiet shyness.
“Are you having a good day?” he asked.
“I am.” She pulled a rag from the back pocket of her overalls, wiping the dirt from her hands. The sky could be falling, but Corey wasn’t one of the people she would normally discuss it with. He was pleasant, but not exactly part of her inner circle. And when it came to her art, she discussed her true feelings about the process with only a few close people. “What brings you by?” she prompted as he stood there standing at what surely must look like a pile of junk.
“Hm? Oh yeah. This.” He shoved the box at her. There was a distinct metallic rattle. “It’s heavy,” he warned.
“Ok—oof. You weren’t kidding.” She didn’t drop the box, but it was a near thing. With the box braced on her hip, she opened the flap, peeked inside, and let loose a happy squeal. “Oh, wow. Corey, this is awesome. Is it all for me?”
“Yeah.” He shuffled his feet. “I’ve seen you rummaging around. How you’re always looking for stuff.”
“That’s me!” She would’ve hugged him, but she worried he might have an adverse reaction to the exuberance.
“None of that is old or anything. Hope you can use new stuff.”
“New stuff works for me,” she gushed.
“Good. Um, the company sent us the wrong parts. All these nuts and bolts we can’t use. Rather than send ’em back I figured maybe you could do something with ’em.”
“I can. Thank you. This is super thoughtful, Corey. I was about to send an email to the local business owners asking for things just like this.”
“For your kids’ booth, right?”
“Yes, exactly. I’m hoping to give miniature lessons in sculpture art with—” She stopped when she saw his eyes glazing over. “Well, you get the point.”
“Yeah.” More shuffling. He shoved his empty hands into his pockets. “So now you won’t have to go rummaging around the marina, right?”
“Not for a while,” she laughed. “And not for the festival. I figure most parents want their kids to use supplies that are clean and new.”
“Probably so.” He glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting someone with a stopwatch to pop out and tell him time was up. “I should get back, but if you need something… Um. Just call me. I’m right there, y’know. I can bring stuff to you.”
