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The space was neat and clean, with six large tables lined with stools. There was another room through the doorway that looked like one they used for birthday parties or maybe small classes.
“Can I paint this one?” Maggie pointed to a figurine of a unicorn, bringing my attention to her.
I carefully lifted it and turned it over. It was expensive. “Let’s find a smaller one.”
Sam left cash for times like this when I wanted to take Maggie to a music class or to lunch, but I rarely used it. I didn’t want to take advantage of him.
Coming to the art store was more for me than Maggie. I knew she’d enjoy it, but I was scoping out the business for myself.
She finally settled on a flip-flop. Her grandmother loved the beach, and she wanted to gift it to her. I sat next to Maggie at an empty table while the studio worker brought us brushes and paints. She explained to Maggie how she could paint everything but the bottom, and she’d leave it there to be glazed.
“That’s just like Miss Alice’s mosaics,” Maggie said to the woman, whose nametag read Jordan.
“You’re into art?” Jordan asked me.
“I create mosaics at home. I have a small kiln.” I pulled up a picture on my phone to show her.
“Those are amazing, but we don’t make them here. We stick to the pottery, and we always have canvases on hand.”
Maggie pulled out a brush and dipped it into the paint. Her tongue darted out between her lips in concentration as she carefully spread the pink paint over the ceramic.
“Do you ever work with artists to offer classes?”
“I don’t own the store. I just work here, but I can find out. Why don’t you write your name and email on this card, and I’ll give it to the owner.”
“That would be great. Thank you.” I filled it out and handed it to her. Jordan moved around the room, helping each family.
Not only was Maggie having fun painting her piece, but I might have made a connection to another artist in town. It wasn’t guaranteed I’d ever hear from the owner, but it was a step in the right direction.
I was hopeful as I helped Maggie finish painting her sandal.
“Do you want to get some lunch?” I asked her as she grabbed my hand and skipped along beside me.
“Yes.”
I took her to a deli, resisting the urge to offer to eat with Sam. We usually made time once a week to bring lunch to him, but since we’d started whatever this was, I didn’t feel right about it. It wasn’t just me bringing his daughter for lunch; there was something between us too.
The evenings were nice. They felt like the longest foreplay because we kissed, but he never took it further. I wasn’t sure if it was because his daughter was in the house, or if he was waiting for our date on Saturday.
I tried not to think of it as a date because it was skiing. He wanted to show me more of Telluride, things I hadn’t done since I’d come here as a child. I think if it had been dinner, I would have been more nervous.
On Saturday, there was a hum of anticipation simmering just under my skin. I joined Maggie and Sam for breakfast, which was their traditional meal of pancakes with whipped cream and chocolate chips.
Afterward, Maggie watched cartoons while Sam did some things around the house. I was feeling lazy, so I hung out with her on the couch. After lunch, there was a knock on the door.
I opened it to an older woman with long hair and glasses. “Oh, you must be Alice. I’m Sam’s mother, Miranda Fletcher.”
“I didn’t realize you’d be picking up Maggie.”
“That wasn’t the plan, but I thought I’d pick her up on the way home. I was shopping in town.”
“Of course, come in. It’s so nice to meet you.” I hadn’t expected to meet Sam’s mother today. I was wearing my usual loungewear of leggings and a sweatshirt.
Could she tell there was something going on between us?
“Glammy!” Maggie yelled as she raced through the house.
At my confused expression, Miranda said, “I think it started out as Grammy, but then she changed it to Glammy.”
