On My Way - Eve Langlais Page 0,27

for hours on end. Poor guy was lonely, and I frankly didn’t see that changing in the near future. I had to work. Maybe I should get him a friend. But that would involve finding a cat, and I didn’t have time to do that today.

“You know what, how about you come with me?” Why not? The shop was mine. I could have my cat there with me if I wanted. Besides, he’d be a good deterrent to any mice that might try and move back in. “I wonder if there’s a box or something I can use to bring you.”

No surprise, I found just what I needed under the stairs, a pet cage with a carry handle, which Grisou wasn’t all that crazy about. He didn’t so much fight me as toss me the dirtiest look as I put him in the carrier.

I sat him on the back seat and then drove to the shop. As I passed the front of it, I couldn’t help but grimace at the lack of a name on my marquee. I really needed to decide on something. And Darryl had a point. If just antiques didn’t cut it and I had to add more goods, then a more generic name would be best, but it needed to be something clever. Or meaningful, at least to me.

I never realized how difficult it would be to figure it out.

While I parked around back, I chose to enter through the front. The thrill I got each time I entered hadn’t yet faded. This store was mine. I finally controlled my destiny to a certain extent. Whether I failed or not rested solely on me.

The thought terrified.

Grisou shifted in his cage, showing impatience. I set the carrier down so I could deal with unlocking the store. The moment the door swung open with its jingle of bells, the latch holding the cage closed slipped and Grisou escaped into the store.

My heart stuttered but didn’t stop. At least my pet went the right way. I’d hate to chase him down the sidewalk. I already had a reputation as a witch. I didn’t need one as the crazy cat lady, too.

As I entered, I took a deep breath. This was my second favorite thing about coming in the front. The smell of hope, a combination of wood cleaner and polish, the lingering aroma of paint, and a hint of dust. Glancing around, I took note of all the treasures now displayed.

Which reminded me, I needed to run prices by Darryl still. I’d forgotten to drop off the list. I’d have to swing it by the gas station.

Later. I couldn’t stop thinking about that bucket in my car. I wanted to try the pottery wheel. Maybe while I was working the river mud into something usable, I’d be inspired by a name for my store.

It took me a good portion of the day to figure out how to make my clump usable. I finally got something resembling the videos I’d watched and was excited to start shaping it.

Once more, the online gurus who claimed it was so easy and proceeded to make it look simple had lied. I didn’t even come close with my first few attempts at getting something that resembled anything but a blob. It took a bit of practice to figure out how to get the wheel spinning using my foot. My hands were stiff against the malleable clay, too stiff. I needed to relax.

I took a break and went out to the front. Organized more things. Even put up some shelves. Of the three I managed, one was perfectly straight. The other two had character.

Before I attempted anything else that required more than just a hammer and a screwdriver, I decided to give the wheel another shot. It was on my gazillionth attempt that I finally got the hang of it. The big ball of mud was set in the center of the wheel, and I punched the bulky middle down. My hands cupped the result as the wheel began to spin, faster and faster, my fingers only lightly skimming it. To my wondering eyes, a bowl took shape, the sides of it rising, taking its hint from the pressure I applied. I had this. I was making something. I was—

Splat.

—staring in disbelief as my kitten, who was large enough to be called a cat now, pounced and squished it flat.

He spun around a few times before jumping off at my yodeled, “Bad kitty!”

How repentant did