Willow's Way

by Sharon Struth

  About time he asked his dad for some part-time work. The idea sank into his gut like the liver his mother used to make him eat, but this kid’s happiness meant everything.

  Henry put his paws on the counter to sniff the cookie plate. Jilly let go of Owen’s hand and went to the dog, gently tugging his collar to get him down. A little boss lady at such a young age, but she already showed an ability with dogs.

  Owen stood. “Jilly-bean, go pack your stuff. Time for us to head home.”

  As she ran upstairs with Henry bringing up the rear, not a trace of upset showed on her sweet face.

  * * * *

  Willow pedaled to the front of Rory’s Pub, enjoying the crisp scent of fall in the air and a gentle breeze on her skin. If only she’d opened the storage space beneath the staircase when she first arrived, she’d have had seen this bike sooner. A little polish, air in the tires, and voilà! Easy transportation to get around town.

  This morning at the house was her most unproductive to date. She’d been too excited to think straight after yesterday’s visit with Hettie. Instead of packing or cleaning, she selected a painting by her grandfather to bring to Hettie as a gift when she went back to visit, as Owen had promised they would. She’d discovered the locations on the back of each painting and made a list of the places to incorporate them into her journey.

  She hopped off the bike and searched the street for a bike rack. With none found, she surveyed the relatively quiet streets, opting to lean it against the pub’s exterior wall, not too far away from the door. This quiet, friendly town didn’t exactly seem crime ridden.

  She entered the pub, pausing a second to let her eyes adjust from the bright sun.

  “Willow!”

  Bonnie waved from the bar, where several customers sat on stools and a sporting event blared on the television stationed on the wall.

  Bonnie grabbed a menu and approached.

  “Hi there.” Willow smiled, happy to be remembered. “Nice to see you again.”

  “You, too. Here to join us for lunch?”

  “Yes. The food here is delicious.”

  “Wonderful. The bar or a table?”

  The tables were empty except for one couple near the fireplace. “The bar is fine.” She walked over and slipped on a stool a few seats away from the others.

  Bonnie placed a menu in front of her and went behind the mahogany bar. “How’s the house cleanup coming along?”

  “I’m slowly getting there.”

  “Good for you. Drink?”

  “I’ll have a beer.”

  Bonnie nodded and glanced to her side. “Take a look.” She patted the menu. “Back in a sec.”

  Willow studied the menu, selecting the pizza in spite of the bad karma from her last slice.

  While she waited for Bonnie, she looked over her notes on locations to visit during her upcoming hike. When Bonnie returned, Willow ordered. She’d been eating anything she wanted on this trip, but her clothes fit the same. Perhaps obsessing about her recent weight gain sabotaged her efforts to lose it.

  A minute later, Bonnie placed a beer in front of her. Lowering her voice, she tipped her head to the right. “That woman sitting down there, she’s an estate agent. You might want to talk to her about your place, find out what it’s worth.”

  “That’s a great idea. I’d planned on searching for one soon. Thanks.”

  “Gotta look out for our repeat customers.” Bonnie winked and walked off.

  Willow considered going over to the woman, but didn’t want to interrupt while she finished her lunch. Instead, Willow sipped her beer and tried to focus on a map of the Cotswold Way. Her eyes kept drifting to the realtor. A conversation with her would bring her one step closer to getting the house listed.

  The excited buzz over things actually coming together didn’t last long. Listing the home also meant the end of her visit.

  Her newly blossoming heart wilted. She’d found joy these past weeks. England meant family, people she didn’t know but somehow innately believed she would like. Heck, everyone in this country seemed friendly. Then there was Owen. Sweet Owen. Handsome Owen. Who had more faith in her than she did herself. And Jilly, a little ray of sunshine, whose conversation and energy made the minutes together both fun and meaningful. She’d miss them both greatly.

  A few minutes later, the men at the end of the bar cheered and Willow glanced in their direction. The estate agent waved and smiled. As Willow returned the greeting, the woman rose from her seat and came over.

  “Hello. Bonnie tells me you’re renovating the empty house down the road.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Sticking out a hand, the middle-aged brunette smiled. “I’m Hope Jenson. Bath Realty.”

  “Willow Armstrong.” She liked Hope’s firm grip as they shook, a sign she had backbone. Dressed in simple fitted trousers, tucked-in white blouse, and navy blazer, she looked and acted professional.

  “Do you mind if we talk a little about your place?”

  “Not at all.”

  “How is it you own the house? It’s been empty for years.”

  Willow told her about her grandparents’ will. “The place needs work, but I’m in the process of updating the electric and plumbing.”

  “That’s a plus. That house might sell to a single owner, but developers love places like this. They often turn them into a multi-owner dwellings. If you’re interested, I can swing by to take a look at the place.”

  “I’d love that.” A professional eye on the place. Exactly the boost Willow needed after uncovering one problem after another since her arrival.

  “When I finish here, I have an hour to spare before another appointment. Or we could do another day.”

  “Today’s perfect.”

  They kept each other company while finishing up their food. Forty minutes later, she tossed her bike in Hope’s back seat and they drove over. As they finished a tour and headed down the main staircase to the first level, Hope nodded her approval.

  “This place will be quite profitable for you, Willow. It has character and lots of room for many options.” Bonnie stepped into the foyer and they faced each other. “The figures you’ve been quoted could be on the low side. I’ll check a few comparative sales, and stop by to see the cottage when the current tenant agrees. If it’s in decent shape, it’ll yield you even more money. Would you be interested in listing with me?”

  Willow stuck out her hand. “Absolutely.”

  Hope made a few suggestions for things to do before showing to potential customers, gave Willow her card, and said she’d be in touch.

  Everything Willow hoped might happen when she’d boarded that plane at JFK looked like it would come true. Solving one of her problems, at least.

  * * * *

  “Hello, Sunshine.” Owen’s lively voice traveled through the B and B’s phone.

  “Hi. What a surprise.” Willow leaned on the reception desk. “Why didn’t you call my phone?”

  “Edna called me. She has a couple who want to get on a tour tomorrow. When we finished business, I asked if I could talk to you.”

  “I see. Did you have a good day?” Today’s full tour schedule had kept Owen busy from morning until dinnertime, and she’d found herself missing him.

  Edna glanced over from the other side of the desk and smiled. A knowing expression that made Willow blush. Edna gathered the mail and walked down the hall toward the kitchen, leaving Willow thankful for some privacy.

  “A long one,” said Owen. “I’m going to bed soon. I forgot to ask on the way back from Bristol—can you handle one more dance lesson tomorrow night?”

  “I need a lesson? Even after my superb performance at the nursing home yesterday? I thought I did pretty well.”

  “You did,” he said right away, and his voice dipped into a huskier tone. “Maybe I just want
to see you again.”

  Her belly warmed as her head fumbled for a response. “Oh, well in that case, a dance lesson sounds great.” Oh, God. She would never master the fine art of flirting.

  “Plan on eating dinner here, too. How was your day?”

  “Busy. I found a bike at the house, cleaned it up, and treated myself to lunch at Rory’s. Now you don’t have to drive me everywhere.”

  “Who says I mind?”

  “I just don’t like to impose all the time. I’ll still nag you for the occasional ride.”

  “Good. Hey, before I forget. My mate with the truck said he can swing by tomorrow to help us get rid of the old fridge. Does around noon work?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Also, Hettie called me. She remembered hearing from someone at church a while back that Sean Cooke resettled in Painswick. I figured it’s a place to start.”

  “Painswick? I’m almost certain my granddad did a painting from that town. Is it along the Cotswold Way?”

  “I believe so.”

  “What a coincidence. Maybe I’ll find Sean on my walk. It’s like I’m meant to follow that path. Don’t you think?”

  “I wouldn’t read too much into it.”

  “Well, I am. I’ve been mapping out some locations along the trail, based on the paintings in the attic. Painswick will definitely be a stop. Speaking of which, any chance I can take you out to lunch tomorrow after we load the refrigerator? I want to pay you back for taking me to see Hettie.”

  “You don’t have to, Rosebud. I’m happy to help.”

  “I want to. Besides, I figured, if you don’t mind, you could help me plan my route, since you have some experience in doing this.”

  “Sure.” His tone held a smile. “I’d be happy to.”

  “Oh, guess who I met at Rory’s today?”

  “The queen?”

  She chuffed a laugh. “No, but wouldn’t you be shocked if I said yes.”

  “Blimey, I’d call the press.”

  She laughed. “I met Hope Jenson, a real estate agent. Have you heard of her?”

  “Yup. I know Hope.”

  “She came by the house to give me an estimate and thinks I can easily get the price I’d been hoping for on the house. She’d like to look at the cottage, but I told her we needed you to agree on the time.”

  “Oh. Anytime is fine.” His tone shifted, a bit stiff.

  She’d seen this reaction before, always at the mention of her selling the cottage. Of course he’d worry. He had a daughter under his roof. “You know, Owen, I’ll make sure I negotiate a deal that gives you plenty of time to find and move into a new place.”

  “I appreciate it, but don’t you worry about us.” His mood shifted, back to the upbeat tone he usually carried. “What did Hope think of the house?”

  Maybe he didn’t have any issues with moving and she’d imagined it. “As a matter of fact, she gave me some suggestions on a few simple, cheap updating tips to make it more appealing. I’m going to make a run to the DIY store soon.”

  “Well, you can’t do that on your bicycle. I’m certain Bea’s headed that way in the morning. Why don’t I give her a ring, see if she minds some company? Around eleven she’s swinging by the cottage to let the dog out. She won’t have to go out of her way to pick you up. So, Rosebud…” He cleared his throat, almost sounding nervous. “I know it’s last minute, but would you like to be my date for the Austen Festival ball? Then afterward, maybe we can go out and have a late supper.”

  “Oh, yes. I’d love to.”

  Jilly’s sleepy voice yelled for him in the background. He sighed. “Hold on, honey.” In his normal voice, he said, “I’d better run. Talk with you tomorrow.”

  As she hung up, she could feel the smile on her face. A date. Her first in a while, but knowing she’d have it with Owen made the outing all the more sweet.

  She went over and sat at the small desk in the lobby holding a computer left on for guests. After typing in Sean Cooke, Painswick she hit Enter and held her breath. One listing appeared under Cooke’s Foreign Car Repair, located on New Street. Free collection and delivery. General Repairs and Servings. Member of Good Garage Scheme.

  She tried to imagine him, an older version of the confident young man in the photo. By next week at this time, maybe her guessing would be over. The elements of her life, once a puzzle with barely any pieces, were finally beginning to take form. So what if it took this long to happen?

  Chapter 17

  Willow lifted the roller from the tray of buttery yellow paint and stretched on tiptoes to reach the upper kitchen wall. She swept her arm with care, slowly spreading gorgeous rays of sunshine on the tired walls, lending them new life.

  Hope had been right. Fresh paint spruced up the room.

  Jilly’s voice carried from the foyer, where Willow had left the door open for her. “I’m here.”

  “In the kitchen.”

  Jilly’s fast footsteps echoed through the house and stopped when she reached the kitchen.

  Willow glanced back over her shoulder. “What do you think?”

  Jilly eyes went wide. “Pretty!”

  “I think so, too.”

  When Willow had extended the invite for Jilly to come over and help paint, Bea had warned her that Jilly’s help might cause more mess than assistance. Besides dirty sneakers, Jilly wore black leggings ripped near the knee, and an oxford shirt that fell to her calves, the sleeves rolled multiple times, leaving only her small hands sticking out. Good preparation for any paint mishaps.

  “Yellow is my favorite color.” Jilly came over and stood on near some newspapers, inches away from the paint can lid.

  “I love it too.” Willow lowered her brush and took Jilly’s hand, guiding her away from disaster. “Come see what I bought for you.”

  “You got me something?”

  “Yup.” She kneeled on the floor and went inside the bag from the store.

  “Nan said painting is messy work and made me wear one of Daddy’s old shirts. At least, she hoped it was old.”

  Willow laughed. “It will be when we’re done.” She pulled out the small roller brush. “Here you are. This is your very own brush. Here’s what we’re going to do this afternoon. See this wall? I outlined it, almost like a coloring book.”

  Jilly nodded, her brows set in deep concentration.

  “Now we’ve got to fill in the rest of the space, like this.” Willow showed her how to dip the brush, ushered her to the wall, and demonstrated how to make strokes. “What do you think? Can you do that?”

  “Watch.” Jilly did what she’d been shown perfectly.

  “You’re a pro.” A big beam spread across Jilly’s face. “Now let me get mine.”

  They worked side by side and talked about having their dance lessons again tonight.

  “You did very well last time,” Jilly said in that grown-up voice of hers that made Willow’s heart smile. “Even Daddy said so.”

  Willow must’ve come across as so insecure even a six-year-old felt a need to boost her self-esteem. So much for being a good role model. “I’m not usually so afraid of new things, but dancing just isn’t my thing.”

  “But you did try. Nan says you should always at least try,” she said matter-of-factly and returned to painting.

  “Nan’s right. I can learn from both of you. Hey, where’s Henry?”

  Jilly dropped her arm to her side, getting a blob of paint on the shirt’s tail. “Nan wouldn’t let him come. She said he’s a busy bee and would probably make it hard for us to work.”

  “I love Henry, but she’s probably right. Sometimes grandmothers know best.”

  Not that Willow would know, but standing in the kitchen of her own grandmother, she figured it was good karma to say so.

  “Daddy took you to Bristol yesterday?”


  Willow glanced over and a dot of paint had landed on Jilly’s cheek. “Yup. He did.”

  “Did you have fun?”

  “We always do. Your father is the best company.”

  “He makes me laugh.” Jilly smiled and walked to the paint tray, dipped her roller in the pan, and returned to the wall, letting bits of it drip on the tarp.

  Willow stopped painting and grabbed a cloth to wipe the mess, before someone stepped in it and left footprints all over the house.

  After a few swipes of the roller, Jilly turned to Willow. “Are we painting in here because you want to sell the house?”

  “Yes.” Willow got on her knees and wiped. “An estate agent said people who might buy the house would like it better if I painted a few rooms.”

  Jilly lowered her brush. “But why don’t you move in?”

  “Well, I live somewhere else, sweetie. The whole reason I came over from America was to see the house and get it ready to sell.”

  Before she could tell her about the plans to keep in touch, she turned to see Jilly’s face scrunched into a sad mess and tears flowing down her cheeks.

  Willow dropped the cloth and scrambled on her knees to Jilly’s side. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want you to leave.”

  She put her hands on Jilly’s shoulders. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

  Jilly stared at the ground, her lower lip quivering.

  Willow had to make this right. “I’m going to make you a promise. Even after I move, the two of us will still be friends. We can write letters, send cards. We can talk over the computer using Skype.” Who was she kidding? She’d miss this place, too. “Maybe I’ll even visit here again one day.”

  Jilly’s willpower broke with a loud wail and her tears spilled in a downpour. Willow drew her closer and hugged with all her might.

  A moment passed and Jilly leaned back. “But…” She gulped more air. “But, you won’t be able to find me.”

  “Of course I will. Why would you say that?”

  “Because, Daddy said if you sold the house…” Jilly paused to draw in a breath and let out a whimper. “He said we have to move.” She sniffed. “…and because of buying his business, he doesn’t have much money…and…and…” The faucet of tears went full pressure.