Page 9 of Glass & Groundwork
Stopping about a hundred yards away from the hives. I got out, put the netted veil over my head and pulled my gloves on, tucking my sleeves into them, leaving no skin uncovered. Even the most experienced beekeepers got stung every now and then. I’d had my share for sure. While I wasn’t allergic, I preferred to minimize the possibility of being stung.
As I drew closer, the noise grew louder. It was peaceful in a way. A living white noise that ebbed and flowed around you. I approached with care, taking slow steps, trying not to spook or anger them. In about an hour the workers would be flying off to collect pollen and things would be quieter here. I wasn’t ready for the quiet yet, though. As much as I thought I wanted quiet back at the house, it was different now.
I sat on the ground and leaned back on my hands. With closed eyes, the sound and the feel of the bees zipping around me reached into me in a way that reached through the past. I remembered Papa Tom bringing me here when my head was too loud. I thought he was trying to teach me the job, but instead, he taught me about myself. With the noise around me, my mind went quiet.
I’d spent a lot of time sitting here among the bees over the years. When I was young, it was an escape from reality, a way to process my anger and hurt. Now, it wasn’t reality I was trying to escape but to cling to. This whole thing with Jasper was ridiculous and completely unfounded no matter the notion the kids got into their heads. I was happy. I loved my life.
This, right here: the bees, the kids, and the farm. They were what mattered. Jasper would be a welcome addition to what I already had, to my… collection, as he'd joked. He brought a good energy, even when he was feeling low, and I had thoroughly enjoyed seeing him hit it off so well with my crew.
Somehow, even the din of the bees couldn't clear my mind of him. I fully blamed the kids, and well, it had been nice to havesomeone new join us for dinner and shake things up a bit.Focus, Gio.
Honey was a remedy as old as time, used for medicinal purposes, preservation, as a delicacy, and for skincare. Harvesting it was good medicine for the heart, too. Working was exactly what I needed, a little sweat therapy. After harvesting, I brought the collected honey and beeswax back to the house to clean and process, ignoring the weird flutter in my chest when I saw a construction truck alongside Jasper’s Jeep by the barn.
With great will power, I managednotto go out to the barn to check in. I promised Jasper the space, and I had no intention of hovering and making him feel like it didn’t actually belong to him. When I heard tires on the gravel out front, I thought it was Frankie arriving, but when I popped out of the garage to check in with them, I saw the dust kicking up as both the truck and Jeep drove away from the property. Had I been hoping Jasper might stay for dinner? Perhaps. He likely had a lot on his mind after talking with a contractor, so I tried not to take it personally.Tried.
Jasper
Somehow, I'd made it back to my apartment with practically no memory of the drive there, and had to hope I hadn’t run any red lights along the way. I was in one piece despite my mind being anywhere but on the road. It wasn't the first time I had driven on autopilot, but it had been a while. Was there a guardian angel out there somewhere wiping sweat off their brow for how hard they worked to keep me alive? I, undoubtedly, gave them more than they bargained for. Maybe they were a naughty little vixen whose punishment was being assigned to me. I whispered a quiet, “Sorry and thank you,” in case someone out there was listening.
Safely inside my apartment, I kicked off my shoes, and hurried to my desk to open my laptop. I was anxious to get to my emails on a screen large enough to look at everything properly.It was the only thing I could think about since I'd left the farm, and why my poor guardian angel needed a raise or a promotion or something. Get them some golden sparkles to bedazzle their wings, surely they earned that much at the very least.
George had given me verbal estimates while looking through the barn. The estimates had covered a wide range, but I was eager to see the full breakdown. He said he would need to do a little research, since this would be the first hot shop his company had done, but that he would include multiple options that would allow for different budgets. The ballpark figures he'd given me might have sounded daunting if I hadn't already been looking into what it would take to convert basic office space into a studio. It would be costly, glassblowing wasn't an inexpensive activity, but I was prepared for that. I only had to decide exactly how far I wanted to take it.
My gut instinct was to go all in. There was a chance—a big one—that I wouldn't be able to make enough money on glasswork to justify the cost of doing it. My parents argued this point every time I brought it up. I knew I could, though. Knew it deep inside my bones. If they were to look at my bone marrow, they would see a kaleidoscope of glass shards twinkling in the light of the microscope. Of all the things I'd done, nothing felt quite as right as glass and fire. I couldn't explain the depth of it or how it pulled at my very soul. My parents certainly would never understand. They weren't creative types and would never be able to grasp the need to make something.
On the chance that it didn't pan out as a successful career, I couldn't imagine ever giving glass up. It might not have been something I grew up dreaming of doing, but once I found it, it clicked like nothing else ever had. I wanted to do it for the rest of my life, even if I never became a world-renowned artist, or evenstate-renowned. What I wouldn't give to see a piece I made ina gallery or a show, but that wasn't going to happen without a space to work in.
After refreshing my inbox several times—as if it wouldn't show if I received a new email—I jumped out of my chair when I saw a message from Grove Hills Construction.
“Okay. This is it.” It wasn't anything final, merely quotes, but it felt like something tangible, much like the supplies in my storage unit. This was a real step. A big step. A real, fucking big step.
Blowing out a breath, I sat back down at the computer, and opened the email. I didn't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't the twenty-page document attached. When he said he was going to do research, he meant it. I met with George because of his reputation, and if his thoroughness in this quote was any indication, he was the right guy for the job.
It was broken down into three tiers, each with clear and specific labor, parts, and costs. The first would suffice. It would make for a simple shop, but would barely meet the needs of the equipment I'd already purchased. I had enough money saved that I would be able to pay it in full without blinking, which would mean I would be up and running sooner. Except, I'd waited this long, and if I was going to do it, I wanted to do it right, not justright now.
The middle road option would befine. It would take me some time to get access to the funds for it, but I would be able to make the deposit to get the work started. My eyes kept drifting to the last quote, though. It was a stretch goal, for sure. A dream shop. One that could last a lifetime, and had the potential to become a place I could share with others, possibly even mentor future glassblowers, as I had been. How long would Gio's generous offer hold up? Was it worth pouring such a huge sum of money into a barn that belonged to someone else?
Gio's offer seemed as genuine as he did. I didn't know him well, yet, but with how he was with his kids, and how muchthey clearly adored him, I felt I could take him at his word. I had planned to pop in and talk with him in person earlier, but I'd gotten so caught up with the contractor that I missed the opportunity to see him. As I stared at the figures before me, I was hit with a pang of guilt. I didn't want it to seem like I was taking advantage of Gio's incredible offer. I didn't feel right about moving forward withanyplans, especially not thebigplan, without ensuring he was okay with it, no matter how eager I was to reply to George and get the construction under way.
Instead, I pulled my phone out and, once again, found myself staring at the number of a man I barely knew. A man who’d made me feel more at home in such a short time than I ever had with my family.
Hitting call, I blew out a breath, bracing myself for the possibility that he might take back the offer. I didn’t actually think he would, but I had to prepare for it before I started signing checks.
It rang a few times before Gio answered, each ring echoing louder in my ears. “Hi, Jasper. How’s it going?”
I heard voices and laughter in the background and I looked at the time on my phone. “Shit. I’m interrupting dinner. I’m sorry. I can call back later.”
“No, it’s fine. Let me just go to another room.” The voices grew more muted and I heard some rustling before he started talking again. “All right, now I’ll be able to hear you better. Is everything okay?”
I sighed audibly. Here I was, disrupting his family time, again, and soon would be disrupting whatever quiet he had on the farm with noisy construction. “Hi, Gio. Yeah, everything is great. I mean, it could be, potentially, I hope, unless it’s not. Shit, sorry. I thought I had my thoughts together, but they’re all jumbled up. Just give me a minute.”
He chuckled softly and said, “Take all the time you need, I’ll be here.”
Damn, he was so sweet. I, however, was a mess. I smacked my phone lightly on my head.Get it together! “Gio, I, uh, need to ask you something?”
“Of course. Did everything go okay with the contractor today?”
“Yeah, it did, actually. In fact, he’s given me a lot to think about, which is where my question comes in. I, uh, I need to know how serious you were about the barn before I get in too deep.”
