Chapter 3

Owen measured and marked the acrylic sheets in the old steamboat museum's workshop. Most of the construction crew had gone for the day, but Steve was here with him, building the shelving he'd use at the summer festival.

A few years earlier, Pastor John had turned the old steamboat museum into a large workshop for constructing tiny homes. Most of the building was still being used for that project, but other areas were being used by local craftspeople needing space to create their products.

As well as working on the tiny homes, Steve had rented a room for the sculptures he made in his spare time. It was a win-win situation for everyone, especially when he needed to do something a little different, like build shelving for the festival. Instead of sending dust into the air in his studio, he could use the construction area where the tiny homes were built. As long as they cleaned up after themselves, everyone was happy.

Steve placed the last screw into a frame and glanced at Owen. "What do you think?"

Owen turned on an LED lighting strip and placed it inside the shelving unit. "It's turned out better than I imagined. The clear acrylic panels will showcase the glass much better than wooden shelving." With a wide base and decorative clamp that attached to the edge of the booth, the display unit was sturdy and wouldn't tip over.

Steve held another panel in front of the unit. "We can add the front cover once you're happy with the design. That'll keep curious fingers away from everything."

Owen turned off the LED lights. "You've done an amazing job."

"We've done an amazing job," Steve corrected. "This would've taken a lot longer on my own."

Owen turned as the main doors banged open.

Harper stepped into the room and quickly scanned the construction zone. When she saw him, she smiled and walked toward him.

Steve's eyebrows rose. "Is there something you haven't told me?"

"That's Harper," Owen told him before he jumped to the wrong conclusion. "She's a friend of my sister's."

"That doesn't make any difference," Steve whispered as Harper approached them.

"Hi, Owen. Have you seen Richard? Mabel thought he'd be here, so she gave me some festival information for him. I was supposed to drop it in on my way home."

"He was here earlier, but he had to pick up his son from basketball practice. I'm not sure if he's coming back."

Steve wiped his hands on his jeans and approached Harper. "If it's urgent, I can swing by Richard's place later. It's on my way home."

Owen saw Harper's hesitation. "Harper, this is my friend, Steve Patterson. He might look a little rough around the edges, but I'd trust him with my life."

Steve glanced at his well-worn jeans and the holes in the sweater he used when he was welding. "There's no point getting dressed up for work," he muttered.

Harper grinned. "I'd appreciate you dropping off the envelope, Steve. And don't worry about your clothes. You look great."

Owen wasn't sure how he felt about the superior glance Steve sent him.

"It's nice to know someone doesn't judge a book by its cover." The grin Steve sent Harper was full of old-fashioned charm. "I've met most of the people in Sapphire Bay, but I haven't seen you around town."

"I moved here about four months ago. I'm staying with my granddad while I decide what I'm doing next." She looked at the shelving unit. "You've done a great job."

"It's getting there," Owen said before Steve replied. "Once we attach the lights to each shelf, the effect will be ten times better than wooden shelving."

"Are you selling anything at the festival?" Steve asked Harper.

"I'm sharing a booth with Jackie from A Stitch in Time. I've been knitting like mad, trying to get enough items finished. I'm a little nervous but excited to see what happens."

Steve's smile widened. "I'm sure your booth will be a highlight of the festival."

Owen cleared his throat. He felt like he was on a dating show, watching a relationship unfold in front of him. "We should get back to work." All Steve's amused smile did was make Owen even more determined to get Harper away from him. He picked up one of the LED light strips and placed it inside the shelving unit.

Harper's smile faded. "I'm sorry if I interrupted you." She handed the envelope to Steve, who tucked it safely into his tool belt. "Thanks again, Steve. Tell Richard that Mabel will catch up with him tomorrow."

"Will do," Steve said with a friendly nod. "Good luck with everything you're making for the festival."

"Thanks." Harper nodded at Owen before turning toward the main doors.

Owen felt like an idiot for telling her she needed to leave. The pointed look Steve sent him didn't help much either. "What?" he silently mouthed.

With a roll of his eyes, Steve called after Harper. "Have you seen Owen's studio?"

Owen's heart sank. The last thing he needed was Steve flirting with Harper in his studio.

Harper turned around. "I've walked past it a few times, but I've never gone inside."

"You should visit it before the festival. Owen could show you around." Steve glanced at Owen, waiting for him to say something.

"Sure," Owen said cautiously. "But if glassblowing isn't your thing, I'll understand."

Harper sent him a searching look. "I'd love to see how you make your bowls, but only if you want to show me."

Taking a deep breath, Owen nodded. "I'm there until six-thirty most nights. You could stop by on your way home from work one day."

Harper smiled. "I'd like that. Tomorrow I'm busy, but would the next day be okay? I only work part time with Zac, so I could visit your studio at about one-fifteen."

Owen nodded and hoped she couldn't see the pulse beating in his throat. "I'll see you then." Apart from his family and Steve, he hadn't shown anyone around his studio. It was his sanctuary, somewhere he could go to create something beautiful out of the wreck his life had become.

After Harper left the room, Steve grinned. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Owen's eyes widened. "You were flirting with Harper."

"It's called talking. You'll need to practice if you're seeing her again. Otherwise, she'll think you aren't attracted to her."

Owen didn't bother telling Steve he wasn't attracted to Harper because he was. "I knew her when she had pigtails and braces. I don't want to complicate things or make her feel awkward."

Steve picked up a drill, ready to get back to work. "She's not in pigtails anymore. Sometimes the best things in life come when you step out of your comfort zone."

As Owen took another acrylic sheet out of a box, a part of him felt hopeful. Maybe showing Harper the studio would be a good first step. A chance to share his love of glassblowing and maybe explore the connection he felt with her.

If she wasn't interested in getting to know him, she'd tell him. And, if that happened, at least she'd know how he'd made the glass bowl he'd given her.

Harper carrieda box into Jackie's living room and sat on the floor. She was sorting through all the donated knitting for the festival with her friend, trying to bring some order to the hand-knitted items that were arriving at the store.

She loved spending time in Jackie's home. The old-fashioned cottage was the type of house she'd always dreamed of owning. With walls adorned with photos and an assortment of novels and knitting guides filling the bookcases, it was the opposite of the poky apartment she'd shared with her friends in New York.

"What do you think of this one?" Jackie reached into the box beside her and held up a chunky, cable-knit beanie, its deep maroon yarn rich and inviting.

Harper leaned forward, her fingers tracing the intricate pattern. "It's beautiful. The pattern looks great with the color the knitter chose. Who made it?"

Jackie placed it on the coffee table with the other hand-knitted beanies for the festival. "A woman in the store's Wednesday knitting group made it. Someone in the community donated ten enormous bags of yarn and they've been knitting nonstop to get everything finished for the festival."

Harper looked in her box and found another beanie. This one was bright pink with a large white crocheted flower on the side. There were scarves with delicate lace patterns, vibrant baby blankets, and a couple of quirky patterned socks that looked cozy enough to ward off the coldest of winters.

"Did they make everything in these boxes?"

Jackie nodded and picked up a soft, teal scarf. "I wish I could knit more, but the store takes up most of my time. I miss losing myself in a pattern and forgetting everything else that's on my mind."

Harper smiled. "Knitting in the evenings has been a sort of refuge for me, especially when I'm with Granddad. It's quiet and peaceful. Plus, it feels nice to create something with your own hands, doesn't it?"

Jackie nodded, her eyes taking on a wistful look. "It does. How's your granddad doing?"

"He's okay. Some days are better than others." Harper carefully folded the scarf. "The stroke changed a lot for him. But he's strong. He said having me there helps him remember happier times."

"What about your mom? Will she come back to Sapphire Bay to look after him?"

"Mom can't leave because of her job," Harper told her. "She wants Granddad to move to Polson, but he refuses to leave his house."

Jackie walked across the room and picked up another box of knitting. "It's just as well he's got you."

"I'm the lucky one," Harper murmured. "It's great spending time with Granddad. He can't walk as far as he once did, but he still has the same sense of humor. He keeps telling me he's buying a Ferrari to drive around town."

Jackie grinned. "I can imagine him doing something like that."

Harper reached into her box and pulled out a pair of hand-knitted gloves covered in a delicate snowflake pattern. "Someone will fall in love with these at the festival. They'll be perfect for early morning walks when it's a little chilly."

Jackie pointed to another box. "I've left all the gloves in the box beside the fireplace. Speaking of the festival, Paris said you sat beside Owen at the first community meeting. Is he selling his glass at the festival?"

Harper left the gloves with the others. "He is. I had to drop something off at the old steamboat museum last night. He was making acrylic shelving for his booth with a friend of his."

Jackie's eyes widened. "That sounds interesting. I was going to take some of the wooden display shelves from the store, but they're too heavy and too large. Acrylic shelving would be much better."

"I'm seeing Owen tomorrow night. I could ask him if he has any he could lend you."

"That'd be wonderful," Jackie said. "I'm surprised you had a conversation with Owen. He doesn't talk to many people."

Harper lifted a pair of booties and a baby's jacket out of the box. "He was fine with me, but that might be because we know each other. He offered to show me around his studio. Well, his friend, Steve, was there and volunteered Owen to show me the studio."

Jackie raised her eyebrows playfully. "Was Owen happy to give you a tour?"

"He seemed to be."

Jackie picked up another pair of booties. "Knowing how shy Owen is, that sounds a bit more than just friendly."

Harper blushed, looking down at her lap. "I don't know about that. Owen's always been... well, he's Owen. But I'm excited to see his work."

A moment of silence filled the room as Harper's thoughts drifted back to her childhood, to the days when a teenage Owen seemed like a character from a storybook. "I remember having such a crush on him when I was twelve. He was sixteen and gorgeous. Whenever I saw him, he'd mumble something about having other things to do and disappear. It's funny to think about that now."

Jackie smiled. "They're good memories. Have you decided to stay in Sapphire Bay or are you going back to nursing?"

Harper's expression turned somber. "I've been thinking about that a lot. Nursing in New York during COVID was... it was hard. I still wake up in a cold sweat sometimes, reliving those shifts. Even though it's not as bad now, I'm not sure I'm ready to go back to the hospital. Besides, Granddad still needs help."

"Have you thought about talking to someone? Maybe a counselor or joining a support group?" Jackie suggested gently.

"The hospital provided counseling, but it felt like I was putting a lid on what had happened and pushing it to one side. Ethan mentioned Pastor John's PTSD support group," Harper admitted, her gaze distant. "I've been thinking about going to their next meeting. It might help to talk to people who weren't involved in what was happening in the hospital."

Jackie reached for Harper's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "It could be good for you. Sometimes, sharing what we've gone through makes it easier to bear."

Harper nodded. Unburdening her heart, even a little, might help her come to terms with what she'd seen. "Maybe I will. Right now, I'm focusing on the festival, and visiting Owen's studio."

The room fell into a comfortable silence, filled only with their soft sighs as they sorted through the knitted items. Harper picked up a baby blanket, its yarn a soft blend of pastels. "This is lovely. It's so soft and the colors are perfect for a nursery."

Jackie smiled, her eyes full of pride. "Thank you. I made that one thinking about the new moms in town. There's something special about creating a blanket for a newborn baby."

Harper carefully placed it in a separate pile for the festival. "There's something special about all of this," she said, gesturing to their collection. "Each piece has its own story to tell."

Jackie agreed, holding up a matching beanie and scarf. "I made these during a snowstorm last winter. They remind me of walking around the lake on crisp mornings, when your breath forms little clouds and your feet scrunch in the snow."

Harper smiled sadly. "I used to love days like that. I was so busy in New York that I stopped enjoying moments that make me happy."

"Well, if you stay in Sapphire Bay over the winter, you'll have plenty of new moments to remember."

Harper knew her friend wanted her to stay. For now, Sapphire Bay was perfect. But everything depended on her granddad and how long he'd need her.