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He sighed. “What now?”
“I haven’t left yet. I waited to see if the snow would let up, but it’s really bad up here. Pileups on the highway and the side roads are nowhere near clear yet. I don’t think I’m going to make it home tonight.”
“Okay. Stay safe.”
“London is supposed to work on her tree topper today, remember?”
“So?”
“I’ve tried calling her and she hasn’t responded.”
“And?”
“And if she shows, it would be pretty shitty to turn her away because I got stuck in Wisconsin. She knows what she’s doing and she handles most of it on her own at this point, but if you could lend her a hand, that would be great.”
“Okay.”
There was a long enough pause that he thought he’d lost her.
“Okay? That’s it? No bitching and grumbling about how you didn’t sign on for this? That you’re not a babysitter?”
Did he really come off as that much of an asshole?
“Since you already know all of that, and it’s not going to change the situation, would it do me any good?”
“No, but not doing it makes me question your motives.”
“I like the money she’s paying. Letting her in tonight will make you happy, so it’s fine.”
“Thank you. I owe you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Be careful driving home.”
He disconnected and looked outside. The snow had started to fall, but it wasn’t too bad here. Bronte didn’t say when London was supposed to show, but given her timing on previous days, he had time to get another vase done. Just in case, he unlocked the front door but left theclosedsign in place to deter obnoxious Black Friday shoppers. Maybe it wasn’t good business, but he believed this weekend shouldn’t be about buying and sales, so he stayed closed.
He was shaping the vase when he heard the bell jingle in the front. He paused and listened to make sure it was London.
“Hey,” she called from behind him. “It’s getting pretty wild out there.”
He finished shaping the vase and returned to the furnace one more time to soften it before adding the final touches. “Do me a favor and go lock the front door. I don’t want people thinking we’re open.”
“Sure.” A minute later, she was back. “Where’s Bronte?”
“I guess you didn’t get her message. She’s stuck in Wisconsin. The snow’s bad up there. Accidents, so it’s not safe to drive.”
“Damn.”
He heard thumping and rustling behind him and he looked over his shoulder to see her digging through a giant bag that he supposed she would call a purse. She found her cell phone and turned it on. A stream of buzzing began.
“Oh, yeah, she called. I totally forgot about my phone. I turned it off because I was working. A friend hooked me up with a couple of galleries and I was struck by an idea for a series that might work and I couldn’t wait to start. You know how it is when you’re in the zone.” She sucked in a breath. “And I’m babbling about stuff you don’t care about. I’m sorry.”
“I get it.” He understood more than most would. Pulling the vase out, he began to rotate it to carve lines into the glass, adding to the texture. “You can stay.”
“Really? Bronte said—”
“I know. I told her it was fine. Get to work.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll do my best to stay out of your way. I really appreciate this.”
