“You left him alone in there?”
“He seemed like he knew what he was doing.” She peeked in and saw him perched on the edge of the potty. “He’s just sitting there.”
“Give him a wipe.”
“Three-year-olds don’t wipe themselves?”
Isabel’s laughter prompted her to go in and assess on her own. She pulled a few pieces of toilet paper in preparation and was surprised when Caemon flung himself forward to hang onto her legs. Trying to maintain her posture, she dropped the phone into the garbage. “I dropped you, Isabel. Hold on a sec.” Wiping out of the way, she and Caemon washed hands, and she directed him back to the living room.
“Stop laughing,” she said, retrieving her phone.
“I wish I was there to witness all of this myself,” Isabel responded.
“Then you’d be the one doing all of this stuff. It comes naturally to you. What were we talking about?”
“About how the hot lady is reeling you in,” Isabel reminded her.
“This isn’t about romance,” Robyn insisted.
“Oh?”
“She stopped hitting on me, and now she trusts me with these details of her life.”
“Details?”
“Family stuff she’s dealing with. I want to know what that is.”
“It is called trust. If she trusts you to talk about this pain, then it follows that she trusts you with her heart.”
“She barely knows me.”
“Since when has that stopped anyone from falling in love?”
To give her hands something to do Robyn went ahead and dried the dishes with a dishtowel and put them in the rough open-faced cupboard.
“It’s too quiet there. Where is your little friend?”
“Oh, shit.” The curse left her lips when she realized how distracted she’d become. She jogged across the kitchen through the hall to the living room which she found empty. “Caemon!”
“You lost him, no?”
“He was coloring.”
“Can he open the front door?”
Robyn flung open the door, ran out to the drive and looked up and down the street. No sight of Caemon. She ran her free hand through her hair, tugging it with worry. “Nothing.”
“I bet a hundred dollars he is in your loft.”
Immediately, Robyn pictured the steep set of stairs in her room that led to the loft. The steps had no railing, and there was just the bed and a gaping hole back to the floor eight feet below. Taking the steps two at a time, she rushed upstairs calling his name. Sure enough, when she ran into her room, she looked up to the loft and found worried blue eyes staring back at her. “Caemon! You scared me.”
“You angy?”
Robyn thanked Isabel for her help and tucked her phone in her pocket. “Not angry. I just need you to answer when I call you. Come on down.”
Instead of complying, his eyes left hers guiltily.
“What do you have up there?” She climbed up and turned to sit with her feet resting on the top step. Caemon sat on her mattress, her collection of agate rocks lined up carefully on her blue bedspread.
His tiny hand reached out to straighten a few that had been knocked out of line by his crawling to the opening. He began to pick up the rocks, but Robyn reached out and stilled his hand. “It’s okay if you play with the rocks. I was just worried about you. I wouldn’t want you to fall down the stairs.”
“Baby Eliza can’t climb the stairs.”
“No, she can’t. She’s not a big kid like you are.”
“She’s not allowed of choking hazards.”
Robyn laughed in surprise. “Your moms told you that?”
He nodded solemnly.
“Are you going to put the rocks in your mouth?”
“No! Them is not for eating.”
“Then we’re okay. Let’s take them downstairs. I’ll tell you about why they’re so special.”
He scooped up the rocks, and let her lift him down from the loft space. She shut the door and followed his careful progress on the stairs, chastising herself for letting him out of her sight, relieved by the easy resolution.
* * *
When she picked up Caemon, Kristine shrugged off Robyn’s apology for losing him briefly, assuring her that he had a knack for slipping off quietly. Caemon had enjoyed the agates so much that he’d wanted to take one with him. Robyn would have been happy to have him keep one, but Kristine gently reminded him of his baby sister and pointed out that he could come back to play with the rocks at Robyn’s house another time.
After they drove away, Robyn sat on the porch as the fog rolled in off the bay, thinking about the boundaries that kids naturally tested. At what point did Grace’s brother step over the line of what his parents could cope with? Robyn wondered how Grace had come to peace with the idea of taking Tyler in and whether she’d be able to establish the boundaries that he needed.
She wanted to help Grace but could see how little she knew about parenting a three-year-old, let alone a troubled adult. Strangely, it was not the spontaneous kiss that made Robyn realize that Grace had snuck past her own boundaries. Fretting about whether Grace would be able to deal with her brother living in Arcata made Robyn want to wrap Grace in her arms. Suddenly she found herself worried that she had blown an unrecognized opportunity when Grace had kissed her on Wedding Rock.
She could hear Isabel’s I told you so without even reaching for her phone.
Chapter Thirty
Had to run an errand. Robyn’s in back and can let you in. Be back soon, promise. Jen.
Grace carried her cello to the front corner of the house. A hothouse ran the length of the south side, ending in an arched doorway with a purple door topped by glass panes. It opened to a yard with tidy raised-bed garden boxes and fruit trees. She followed the cement path that curved around to the back door. A grating racket came from somewhere nearby and she puzzled at the two sets of porch stairs, one to her left and one directly in front of her. She chose the set of stairs on the left, figuring they led to the kitchen, thankful for the quiet of the small house she rented.
Her rap at the door produced no results, so she leaned her cello against the porch railing and descended the stairs. She briefly entertained the idea of knocking on the second door but noticed a path in the grass that led in the direction of all the noise. Tentatively, she followed it, pausing at what she thought would be the property line. There she found an answer to the horrible noise. Inside a garage with doors open wide was Robyn pressing a metal tool to a spinning hunk of wood. A thin line of the wood curled in long ringlets, crawling up Robyn’s left arm before falling to the pile on the ground.
Grace stood mesmerized by the slow arc Robyn made as she whittled the outer edge to a curve. Soon she clicked off the machine and pushed her protective glasses back on her head. Rather than brushing the sawdust that covered her head, shoulders and chest, Robyn’s hands caressed what would eventually be a huge bowl.
Before Grace had kissed Robyn, she would have let herself imagine what Robyn’s hands would feel like on her skin. Now she felt foolish watching someone who had made it clear she wasn’t the least bit interested. Had she not just brought her brother back home with her, she might have pushed a little harder, but Tyler’s living with her dropped her love life significantly lower on her list of priorities. Not wanting to stand there pining about how many things had shifted, she broke the silence. “I had no idea your shop was right here.”
Robyn’s hand flew to her chest. “You startled me!”
“I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
“I was just thinking I’d call it a day.” She tucked the tool she’d been using into a box hanging on the wall and brushed her hands on her thighs.
“How long will it take to finish this piece?”
“It’ll be pieces, actually. Tomorrow, I’ll cut out the middle in stages. I’ll probably be able to cut three stacking bowls. They’ll get coated in wax and hang out in the shop until they’re dry enough to do a
more finished turn.” She pointed to shelves deeper in the garage filled with all different sizes of bowls as well as hunks of wood that had yet to be touched.
Grace stepped carefully across the carpet of sawdust and picked up a bowl. She puzzled at a notation in pencil.
Robyn stood so close their shoulders touched, and she did nothing to avoid Grace’s hands when she took the bowl. The brush of her fingers sent a zing through Grace. So much for her priorities shifting.
“I mark them to remember where I found them, what kind of wood it is and how long it’s been curing. This is madrone I found on the Oregon coast. I did the rough turn in June. See how it’s elongated in the last six months?” She tipped it to look at it in profile, showing Grace how the sides had also curved up in the middle, giving it the shape of a football, not a bowl.
“Why the Oregon coast?”
“I find different wood to work with, and there aren’t many places you can actually take driftwood off the beach.”
“I was just in Oregon. I could have combed the beach for you.”
“Kristine said you were away. So you have a roommate now?” Robyn asked, putting the bowl back on the shelf.
“Yes, I brought Tyler home with me.”
Robyn’s eyebrows popped up.
“What?”
“I’m just surprised.”
“You’re the one who said I’m only hurting myself if I don’t let go of my anger.”
“I know what I said. But there’s a big difference between hearing something and listening. You listened. I’m impressed.”
Grace wasn’t sure what would have made Robyn think that she had trouble listening, and bristled at the suggestion. She gestured at the walls lined with neatly organized tools. “He’d love this. He’d made a shop in my sister’s barn, changing my sister’s junk into things he’s trying to sell. Upcycling he calls it.”
“Did he bring anything with him?”
“We only had room for the bench I bought from him and a few of his smaller projects. I’m making a website for him, and we’ll put pictures of the other things he’s made on it. He’d like to jump into that a hundred percent, but I’ve got him looking for work that offers a steady paycheck. Either that or enroll at the community college.”
“I’d like to see what he’s doing to recommission old things,” Robyn said, genuine interest sparkling in her eyes.
Grace hesitated. She was proud of what Tyler had made but didn’t want him to get distracted from the goal they had set.
Robyn seemed to sense Grace’s discomfort and asked, “How’s it going with him?”
“It’s only been a few days…” Grace appreciated that Robyn didn’t push about Tyler’s projects and that she seemed interested in the shift in her life. “He’s doing fine. We’re finding a rhythm. I want to support him, but I feel a lot of pressure to make sure he finds the right path.”
Silence hung between them momentarily. Robyn opened her mouth to speak but turned her head and let out a long breath. When she glanced back at Grace, Robyn brushed sawdust off her forearms and said, “I’m glad you’re helping him.”
Grace could see clearly that Robyn had been about to say something else, but whatever it was, she took it with her out of the shop, waiting for Grace to follow before she swung the doors shut. “What were you going to say?” she pressed.
“Nothing,” Robyn said without meeting Grace’s eyes.
Grace crossed her arms and stood her ground.
Robyn relented. “I thought I got you. You had your big speech about how I could do something bigger with my bowls, yet you don’t want to encourage your brother’s craft. That’s a puzzle.”
Grace took a breath to argue that Robyn had artistic talent that deserved more attention than she got, and then realized that Robyn was suggesting that what Tyler did was art. “Wait. His stuff could be terrible. What do you know until you’ve seen it?”
“The look on your face when you said you bought one of his benches. It means something to you.”
“He made it out of our childhood crib. It holds great sentimental value.”
The smile Robyn attempted to hide betrayed how little she believed Grace. “Somehow I doubt that you would buy something solely for the memory. I’d put money on it having more value than that. Upcycling is hot right now. If he’s got a knack, he could be successful…” She paused, searching Grace’s eyes with an intensity that made Grace feel utterly exposed. “But I guess it depends on what your idea of success is. Barb called stuff like that junk.” She bowed slightly before she walked away from Grace.
Grace refused to follow immediately, stung by Robyn comparing her to Barb. And she didn’t appreciate Robyn’s insinuating that she was a snob. Digging her phone from her pocket, she marched after Robyn. “He doesn’t make junk,” she insisted, pulling up some pictures of the table she had liked so much.
“I never said he did,” Robyn said, accepting Grace’s phone. She nodded appreciatively as she scrolled through a dozen pictures. “That’s really something.” Her words were heavy with meaning. “You have a chance here to encourage beauty. Isn’t that sometimes what’s most important?”
Despite the chill in the evening air, Robyn’s hands were warm against Grace’s when she pressed the phone back into her hands. For a moment, Grace forgot they were talking about her brother. She’d never seen such an open expression on Robyn’s face. She felt the urge to step closer and find Robyn’s warm lips again but resisted. Robyn must know how she felt. Her skin still tingled with the memory of their one kiss. However, knowing the details of Robyn’s recent breakup, she wouldn’t push again. Whether more developed between them was up to Robyn.
“I’m hitting an estate auction tomorrow. I’m sure he’d find stuff to work with if you want me to take him along,” Robyn offered.
“How about you text me the info and we’ll join you if we can.” Grace somehow felt jealous of the invitation extended to her brother, but not to her.
Robyn held out her hand again and raised her eyebrows expectantly.
“What?” Grace finally asked.
“Won’t you need my number in your phone?”
“Of course,” Grace said, flustered by the decidedly flirtatious way Robyn had delivered the line. Robyn had said earlier that she thought she “got” Grace. As she pulled up her contacts and handed the phone to Robyn for her to punch in the number, she realized that the tables had turned, she didn’t know Robyn as well as she thought.
Chapter Thirty-One
Hope
Robyn studied the battered legs of a small desk. The dings and scratches would work in her favor, keeping the sale price low. With an afternoon of sanding and a fresh coat of varnish, she could easily quadruple the price in the fall when students flooded her yard sale eager to furnish their apartments. She’d also bid on many of the pots and other kitchen utensils, all well-used and mismatched, which would keep most people from giving them a second thought but give her a great selection.
She wandered from the packed room, not having seen what she was really looking for all morning. Though Grace had texted for the address, Robyn had yet to see her or her brother. Her level of disappointment surprised her. It wasn’t as if they’d made a firm plan. She tried to tell herself that what she felt was tied to whether Grace would support her brother’s talent, trying to nudge out of her brain the hope that Grace would want an excuse to see her.
With a half hour to kill before the auction started, she walked out to the garage on the off chance that they’d have any old tools that would interest her. Hands tucked in the pockets of her Windbreaker, she heard Grace before she saw her.
“We don’t have the room,” Grace’s voice had a hard edge with no room for bargaining.
A deep male voice answered calmly, “You’ve got that carport. I could throw a tarp over them.”
“The ladder I get. I’ve seen what you can do with ladders, but building a greenhouse out of windows…And you said there aren’t enough here, anyw
ay.”
“That’s why we store them for now. No one is even looking at them. I’m sure I can pick them up for next to nothing. Then I’ll find more.”
“To build a greenhouse.”
“Yes.”
Robyn took a few more steps and found Grace standing tall in defense, her hands crossed over her chest.
Coatless, Tyler’s T-shirt stretched tight over his muscular chest and arms. The sleeve hid half of a tribal pattern tattoo. His posture held none of his sister’s erectness of carriage. Her stance struggled to gain power, yet he stood relaxed and impassive. Though fascinated by their standoff, Robyn couldn’t resist introducing herself.
“I’m happy to see you made it,” she said, entering the garage. Grace’s eyes widened for an instant, either in surprise or pleasure to see Robyn. Robyn hoped it was the latter.
“Tyler, this is my friend Robyn,” Grace said, her voice clipped and annoyed.
Robyn smiled, figuring that Grace held her responsible for the situation.
“A greenhouse, huh? What are you thinking as far as framing goes?” Robyn asked.
Tyler lit up as he explained the design he had in mind, quickly brainstorming the materials he would need to pull off the project. The more he talked, the more Grace scowled.
“And who is going to pay you to construct this thing on site?” Grace asked.
“I know you think everyone in Humboldt County grows pot, but I could sell this legit,” Tyler said, volleying back Grace’s objection.
Robyn agreed. “There’s a huge community of organic gardeners. You could pitch the idea at the farmers market once it gets going in the spring, see if anyone has been thinking about expanding with a greenhouse.”
“And that gives me time to collect the rest of my materials,” Tyler said excitedly.
Ignoring the way Grace’s eyes were glinting, Robyn added, “You could check the recycling center in town. They have a great selection of recommissioned building materials.”
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