by Rae Walsh
“It’ll cost you,” Sam said, as they sat at the kitchen table. He rifled through the drawings and papers on the table, his face serious.
Theresa shrugged. “It’s fine,” she said. “An investment.” She almost laughed when her brother’s eyes widened.
She was pretty sure that none of her family understood exactly how successful she was as a potter. Her mugs and bowls formed the bulk of her work, and they did okay, but it was her fine art, her sculptures, which were genuinely profitable. Theresa didn’t want to brag about that to Sam, though. She wanted him to build a workshop.
He didn’t budge, though, just gazed at her. “I mean it, Reesey. It’s going to cost a lot.”
“Sam,” she said, frustrated now. “I can afford it.”
“She’s right, Sam. Do you have any idea what her career is like now?”
Theresa turned to see Sheldon, back again, wearing torn-up jeans and a fitted white T-shirt. She frowned. Not exactly less beautiful, but she supposed it would do. When was the last time Sheldon had worn jeans and a T-shirt? He looked almost…normal.
“No,” Sam said, drawing the word out. “Why don’t you tell me, Sheldon?”
“Sculptures at her last show sold out within ten minutes. The largest sold for $20,000. The buyer turned around and sold it the next day for $30,000.”
Theresa scowled. She understood that the customer making a resale was a good thing because it would cause the value of her work to increase, but she still found it tacky.
“She has buyers from three of the big collecting families in the U.S., as well as Europe and the Middle East.” Sheldon put on a posh voice. “’Whatever Theresa Grant creates next will go quickly, and for a small fortune. Collectors greatly look forward to her next show.’”
The last sentence was a quote from the New York Times. Now Theresa knew where Sheldon got his information.
She smiled. “Thanks, Taz,” she said gently. “That’s probably enough for Sam to digest.”
Sheldon winked at her, and she shook her head at him. Sam was staring at Sheldon with his hands folded on the stack of papers in front of him. He turned his gaze onto Theresa. She couldn’t read the look on his face.
“Sam?” she asked. “What are you thinking?”
“I just…got such a different picture from Maddie. You puttering around in a shed, making stuff. Not this…fame. I mean, I knew about your shows in Minneapolis, but I didn’t know about your success.”
“I’ve never had a hard time with art,” Theresa said softly. “It’s the life part that’s hard for me. Maddie sees me in terms of how I mother her. So from her side, she probably gave you an accurate picture. Plus, that big show happened during the last six months, while she was already living here.”
Theresa looked back and forth between the two of them. Their eyes on her were too much, and she had to look away. She walked over to the counter and poured herself a glass of water.
“The thing about clippings and sound bites,” she said after she had taken a long drink, “is that they only tell one story. I make things alone, glaze them alone, and fire them alone. Then my agent comes and picks them up, sets up a show that I attend, barely holding back a panic attack because of the hours of talking to a crowd of people, and customers buy the things I made with so much love, sell them again,” she scowled, “and I go back to work. People all have assumptions about what a successful art career looks like. But to me, it looks like this.” She gestured at the drawings of the little studio and workshop. “I just want to make stuff. It’s like the face,” she said, pointing to herself. “People have assumptions about what it means to be ‘pretty’ and what it must feel like. I’m sure I receive some of the advantages of being attractive, but I can’t read people’s reactions, other than unwanted attention. I don’t know how to enjoy it, or how to make the inside match the outside. I only know how to make things. So that is what I do, and I try not to worry about any of the rest of it.”
She smiled, suddenly, at their faces. She still couldn’t figure them out, but they were dear to her.
Sam turned to Sheldon. “So when you offered to stock her dishes…”
“I was joking,” he said. “I could never afford a Theresa Grant piece of pottery.”
“Not true,” Theresa said, swallowing the last of her glass of water. “I have a line of cups and bowls that are always affordable. But I have a mile-long waiting list for them.”
“Your agent isn’t going to let you do that for long,” said Sheldon.
“My agent works for me. It’s in my contract. I have to be able to make bowls and cups, or art will never come again. One feeds the other.”
Sheldon pulled his phone out of his back pocket and started scrolling through it. “Yup,” he said after a minute. “Here’s a set auctioning for $3000 on eBay.”
Theresa shook her head, hard. “I don’t care,” she said, her voice growing louder. “Can we not talk about this anymore? Sam, are you satisfied? I have enough money to renovate my workshop! And to pay you back if you want to be paid back for anything you spent on Maddie, and to pay you back for being a crappy sister, if that’s what you need!” She sighed, tugging hard on her braid, trying to stay focused and in her skin. “Tazzy, I’ll be in the garden if you need me.”
Chapter Twenty
Theresa paced back and forth in the back yard. Why did it matter that she was making more money now? Why couldn’t her brother trust Theresa’s own sense of her finances? Theresa knew that what she had done—sending Maddie to live with him without any warning—wasn’t a responsible thing to do, but she didn’t see how it had anything to do with right now, with building the studio and starting a new life here.
She blew out a short breath. And Sheldon, making a big deal about the shows and her sculptures selling. She grinned. It had been satisfying to see Sam’s surprise. And annoying when he couldn’t stop talking about it. She scowled.
Ugh. Theresa had nearly worn a path from one fence to another. It would be better to take her frustration out on the weeds. She took a breath, chose a section, grabbed large handfuls of unwanted plants, and pulled. And again. She pulled and pulled, and slowly, as her palms began to burn, her heart rate slowed. She started to feel better.
After a while of this, Theresa sat back and looked at her progress. A long swathe of the back garden was bare of weeds. She leaned forward to clip a few brown leaves from a hibiscus bush that already seemed to appreciate the extra space.
The garden was shaped like a shallow bowl, with a raised area along the rim that held perennial bushes, trees, and flowers. The center of the yard was filled with raised beds and grass. Even in November, some of the bushes were blooming.
Theresa turned and saw that Sheldon was next to the fence at the far end of the garden, a large pile of weeds beside him. Theresa hadn’t even heard him come outside. She felt suddenly, fiercely grateful that Sheldon had allowed her to work without disturbing her. She watched him pull weeds. His black curly hair was messy, which was no surprise—it always was—but he also had dirt and clinging seeds smeared over his white shirt. He had earbuds in his ears and was singing along to a song Theresa couldn’t identify, wildly off-key.
Theresa smiled, and just then, Sheldon looked up and caught her watching him. He winked at her. She shook her head without dropping her eyes, picking up her pile of weeds to haul to the compost.
Sheldon met her at the compost pile, dropping his own collection of weeds into the box. He pulled his earbuds out.
“Hug?” he asked. And because he asked, and because he was Tazzy, one of her dearest friends, and because he had cleared the weeds out of a significant section of her garden and left her alone when she wanted to be alone, Theresa walked into Sheldon’s arms and hugged him hard. The top of her head reached his mouth, and Theresa could have sworn she felt a light kiss on her hair, but she ignored it, closing her eyes tightly, breathing him in. Sun-warmed skin, dirt, grass, a bit of sweat, the same soap he had been using for years. For a long
moment, Theresa let herself relax into the hug, and then she heard a call.
“Mom! Daniel’s here!”
Theresa was at the front gate in a flash. Daniel had pulled up in the little mail truck that he hardly ever used.
“You didn’t need to bring it,” she told him, grinning from ear to ear as he pulled a gigantic box out of the back of the truck.
“It’s not far,” he said, huffing as he hauled the box up to the porch. He laid it down and straightened. “Hey Sheldon,” he said.
“Hi Dan,” Sheldon said. “Oh! A delivery! That’s great!”
Theresa looked at Sheldon sideways. Why was he smiling so big?
“Do you have any more boxes to carry?” Sheldon asked.
“Four,” Daniel replied. Sheldon went to help, while Theresa did a brief foxtrot on the sidewalk, overwhelmed with delight. The boxes were packed full of the supplies and glazes she had ordered. She could hardly wait to begin throwing pots again, elbow deep in clay.
After Daniel left and the boxes were stacked in the back corner of the workshop, Theresa went back to the garden. She grabbed another handful of weeds, but Sheldon spoke from behind her.
“You’re not going to keep going without lunch, are you?”
“Lunch?” Theresa asked, turning to look at him. She smiled at the sight of him, face smeared with dirt, sticks in his hair. “What time is it?”
“It’s nearly two o’clock, you workaholic. Sam went home to eat a long time ago. He said he would gather supplies from his store and meet us back here later in the afternoon. Come on, let’s go to my shop and get some sandwiches.”
Theresa considered it. Not a bad idea. She did have a gnawing feeling in her stomach, and the fridge didn’t have much that would be fast. She nodded.
“Sure, let’s go. Do you want to wash your face first?” she asked. Then she laughed as Sheldon put a hand to his face, as though he could feel where the dirt was.
“Come on,” she said. “A mirror will help.”
After they both washed up, they started walking. Theresa felt happy. This kind of friendship hadn’t been part of her life in Minnesota. She loved the way she and Sheldon could just be.
“Who’s looking after the store?” Theresa asked. “Isn’t Lucy back at Katie’s?”
“Not yet,” Sheldon said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “I have one more week with Lucy, and I’m training a kid who has great potential. But Lucy’s holding down the fort today…wait. I have a million messages. My phone was on silent.”
“Is something wrong?” Theresa looked at him. He was frowning, scrolling through, and nearly tripped over a bump where a tree root had pushed the sidewalk up. Theresa reached out to pull him to a stop, and he let her.
“Something about the windows… Lucy asked if I looked at the windows this morning? She’s calling the police…” What on earth? I leave for one measly morning…”
Sheldon put his phone back in his pocket and kept walking. Theresa jogged to keep up.
They turned the corner then...and saw the store. Theresa stopped dead in her tracks, and Sheldon swore softly under his breath.
All across the grocery store, ugly words had been scrawled in red spray paint. Not welcome. Get out of town. Abomination. Terrorists go home.
Theresa felt her stomach clench up. The blood drained out of her face, and she felt as though she might faint.
A couple of police officers stood on the sidewalk, talking to Lucy, whose fists were clenched at her sides. She was talking a mile a minute. Sheldon stared at his store.
“The brick,” he murmured, and Theresa winced.
The ugly red words were spread all across the exposed brick of the store, even crossing the wrought iron decorations that held the vintage-style sign that said Green’s in curling letters. The red paint covered the hand-painted sign itself.
Theresa was shaking. She wanted to run far, far away, but she followed Sheldon numbly as he walked to stand beside Lucy.
“I was just about to walk over to Theresa’s house to find you,” Lucy said.
“I’m surprised you waited this long,” Sheldon replied.
“I didn’t know how long you would be gone. Kept thinking you’d be right back. And it was a bit crazy around here.”
“We have to get that off as soon as possible,” Sheldon said. “I’ll call Sam.”
Theresa felt like she was going to throw up. The violence of the red words spread across Sheldon’s beautiful building. The hatred behind them, she could almost feel it in the air.
“I have to go, Tazzy,” she said, “I’m sorry.” He turned and held out a hand, but she evaded him and started to run. She didn’t stop running until she was in her bed, under the covers.
Chapter Twenty-One
Over the next few days, Sheldon went back and forth with the police, looking at camera footage and answering questions. He listened to his customers, who all wanted to express their support and condolences about the hate-filled words. He tried to reassure them that this was a one-time event.
Eventually, life started to return to normal. Or rather, the new normal, which was becoming rather blissful. There were frequent Theresa sightings and little jokes forming between them. Their friendship sapling was growing leaves. Sheldon almost couldn't believe that Theresa was back in his life.
He found himself dreaming about her all the time. Sheldon knew he needed to put a lid on his expectations, but he didn't want to, so he ignored all the little twinges of grief that tried to make themselves known—the sorrow from the last ten years.
Enough of sadness. Theresa was back, she was becoming his friend again, and that was all he would think about.
The Aveline Café re-opened, and Lucy went back to work there. Sheldon was still in the middle of training a new employee, Raj, as his new manager, so he couldn't get back to Theresa's house to help with weeding. He bided his time and tried not to take his impatience out on poor Raj, who, despite being talented and savvy, couldn't retain a month's worth of information in one week. Pity.
Sheldon knew Theresa had been deeply shaken by the vandalism to his storefront. She always had been sensitive about things like hatred and cruelty, which made her curl up inside herself like a little snail in its shell. The rash of hateful graffiti and robberies that had rushed over Aveline right before Theresa left had affected her the same way. Theresa had been desperate and furious about Daniel being implicated but almost paralyzed by the fear the violence shook up in her.
Actually, at the moment, Daniel was the only bitter mouthful in Sheldon's tea. It wasn't the guy himself. It was the sharp spikes of jealousy Sheldon felt whenever he saw Daniel and Reesey together that tormented Sheldon. Daniel swore up and down that he wasn't interested in Theresa. He seemed miserable when Sheldon brought it up, but there was something so comfortable about the way the two of them related, and Theresa was so beautiful that Sheldon couldn't quite believe everyone wasn't in love with her.
What with all the emotions of the week, it felt great to be in Francisco's back yard with the guys on Friday night. The nights were growing chilly, and they all pulled their chairs close to the fire. George and Frankie watched the meat on the grill, while Daniel sipped a beer and Sam told Carlo about his and Katie's honeymoon—a few weeks of kayaking in Canada. Sheldon took a sip of lemonade. A comfortable silence fell. Sheldon had just about made up his mind to tell the guys about his trouble with jealousy. Maybe they would be able to help.
"I have another guy in mind for these evenings," Sam said.
"Who's that?" Francisco asked.
"Do you know Lewis?" Sam asked. "We've gotten to know each other because he supplies Katie with produce for her restaurant. He's a good guy."
Sheldon snorted. "Of course I know Lewis," he said. "He's one of my organic suppliers too. But do you think he'd want to come? Lewis strikes me as a bit of a recluse."
"Are you kidding?" Sam said. "Aren't we all recluses? That's the point."
George and Francisco laug
hed.
"Are you talking about the young farming brother who came out from Los Angeles a while back?" George asked.
"Yes," Sam said. "He's kind of a genius, really. His farm is incredibly productive, and he has great water conservation methods."
George nodded. "He's a good kid," he said. "He was a scientist, I think, and left the city after some mess happened."
"What was it?" Sam asked.
"Oh, you know," George said. "The usual."
Sheldon wasn't sure what that meant, and George didn't elaborate.
After a moment, Sheldon ruffled up his courage and spoke. "I have a question. How can you not fall in love with Theresa?" he asked the others. "How is it possible?"
"She's my little sister," Sam said, "that's how."
"You're excluded," Sheldon said. "And you too, George, Carlo, because you're married."
"To the smartest, most beautiful woman in the world," George said. Carlo raised his beer, and the two of them clinked bottles.
"What about you, Daniel? Frankie?" Sheldon added.
"You know I'm not looking for a relationship," Frankie said. He poked at the logs with a stick, causing the flames to jump up around the steaks. Francisco really was far too good looking for a reverend, Sheldon thought, narrowing his eyes at Frankie. Immediately, he regretted the thought. What was wrong with him? Frankie was a widower. Why did everyone seem like potential competition?
"I know you're really talking to me," Daniel said suddenly, glancing at Sheldon. "I don't know how to convince you that you're wrong. I am not in love with Theresa. She…well, she told you about being on the autism spectrum, right? I am too. So we connect because of that. We've always connected because of being odd and having a hard time in regular society. But there's nothing, Sheldon. She is like a nice old lady to me. Or a good book."
"No spark," George offered, while Sheldon tried to get over the shock of hearing his exquisite Reesey compared to an old woman. He didn't know whether he was insulted or relieved.