Broken Pieces: A Novel by Kathleen Long

Author:Kathleen Long [Long, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503937178
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2016-07-18T18:30:00+00:00

The walk from the café to my shop wasn’t a long one, but Sydney labored over each step.

Although the sun shone brightly and the early air all but crackled with the promise of cooler fall weather to come, I couldn’t help but worry about why she seemed so tired. Her fatigue was always apparent, but today seemed different. Today seemed more.

“Would you rather go home?” I asked.

Sydney shook her head. “This new drug’s kicking my ass, but no.”

“We can.”

“No,” she said, her tone sharp.

We rounded the corner onto Artisan’s Alley, and shop window after shop window glistened in the sun. Behind their glass panes sat antiques, elaborate sun catchers, furniture, framed paintings, and more.

“Any of this yours?” she asked.

I pointed, and her features brightened. “Rocking chair. See it?”

“The white one?”

The shopkeeper had carefully draped a patriotic quilt over the chair’s back, and while the effect was eye-catching, it hid some of the shaping I’d done on the chair’s back and arms.

“That one was a pet project. I keep thinking I’m going to take it back if it doesn’t sell.”

We continued down the block, and the two-story garage that housed my shop appeared a few buildings later.

“You going to be all right with the steps?” I asked, but Sydney only nodded, saying not a word as she climbed the wooden boards one at a time, her concentration never wavering.

I unlocked the door and we pushed inside.

“It’s a mess now,” I said. “Bit different than the last time you saw it.”

Every inch of drafting table, worktable, counter, and wall space was covered with photos, sketches, grids, and diagrams of the opera house interior. I’d embraced the renovation wholeheartedly, focusing solely on the project and letting it consume my shop and my creative mind.

“Amazing,” Sydney said. “You can feel the creativity in this space.”

A frisson of pride wound through me. “Thanks, I guess. Unless that’s your way of saying it’s chaos.”

She graced me with the smile that brought my mother back to life. “Creative chaos.”

I swallowed against the knot of emotion in my throat and looped my arm through hers.

“Come on,” I said. “I’ll show you the project.”

I carefully maneuvered her through the now-crowded space, detailed the workings of every machine, and explained the sketches and progress photos from the opera house. Then I flipped through my brag book—photographs from every job I’d ever completed.

I stopped myself when I realized I was acting like a kid trying too hard to please a new friend.

“Sorry. I’m probably boring you.”

“Never. I love how passionate you are about what you do.”

“Don’t you feel that way about nursing?”

She shook her head. “Not anymore. Now I’m just tired.”

Tired.

“Let’s sit you down. I have the perfect project to take your mind off Ella starting school.”

I handed her a mask and a pair of safety goggles, then held up a narrow strip of wood, carefully explaining how I planned to feed it through my favorite saw four times, using a different bit each time to create the lovely scroll molding I’d glue and pin to each section of the opera house stage frame.

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