Page 101 of The Singing Trees
“I know you’re doing well, but if you ever did want me to represent you, I’d be more than honored. Your work would be stunning on my walls.”
What a long hard road she’d traveled to get here, Annalisa thought, allowing herself a pat on her own back. “Thank you. If you only knew how much your offer means to me, but...I think, for now at least, I’m going to stay here and see what happens. I’m having so much fun.”
Jackie gave a knowing grin as she took another peek at the wall. “It is fun, isn’t it? Well, the offer stands if you ever change your mind. Sharon told me you’ll be showing in April. I couldn’t be more proud.” She started back toward the door.
Annalisa followed her, saying, “You had something to do with that, you know? I’ll never forget meeting with you at your gallery when I was seventeen. Even though you told me no, you gave me what I needed to press on.”
Jackie glanced back at her. “You always had what you needed to press on. I’m just bearing witness to a wonderful artist coming into her own.”
At that moment, the clocks and watches struck noon.
“I knew you couldn’t retire,” Annalisa said, seeing the box of watches Walt had fixed. It was now the first week of April, and the United Stateshad finally withdrawn all troops from Vietnam. Walt had been living in a nursing home she’d found for him in Freeport, which was much closer to Nonna anyway. To her delight, Annalisa had learned that Nonna visited Walt even more than Annalisa and Celia did.
Annalisa tried to come up at least twice a week, and she’d always bring him a box of watches to fix. Every visit, she’d retrieve the repaired ones and leave a new batch.
“It gives me something to do up here,” Walt said, resting in his bed. Annalisa had done her best to brighten up the room with flowers and paintings from some of her other artist friends. A framed picture of Nonna rested on the bedside table. On the wall by the door hung the painting Annalisa had done of the two of them kissing under his awning.
He’d become so weak that he spent most of his days horizontally, aside from his morning adventure with a walker out to the back patio. He’d lost twenty pounds, which he could ill afford, and his skin sagged on his face and arms. Still, his mind was sharp.
“Hey, you,” Walt told Celia, who was now walking and talking, “get up and give me a hug.”
“You hear Wawa?” Annalisa said to Celia, lifting her up.
“Wawa,” Celia said, landing on the bed with a smile and reaching for him.
Walt wrapped his arms around her. “You’re sprouting, aren’t you, little one? What a joy this is.”
Celia reached for an ear and tugged at it.
“They’re big, aren’t they?” he asked.
Annalisa snickered, thinking that Celia was a ball of light, brightening up the world around her.
Walt sat up and put Celia on his lap, and they conversed for a while—or as best as they could with her limited vocabulary. He was great at making her laugh, and Annalisa found herself so grateful that her daughter had gotten a chance to get to know him.
After putting her in the chair, facingSesame Streeton the television, Annalisa lifted up a white bag.
“Are you getting tired of these yet?” She had brought him a cinnamon bun from the farmers’ market every week since the market had opened in April.
Walt opened the bag and the sweet scent filled the room. “I doubt they make them this good in heaven.” He took a bite with his eyes closed, relishing the flavors.
“You should see the shop,” she said. He hadn’t been down there in weeks.
“I would love to.”
“You’d be very happy.” She still hadn’t changed the name of the shop, but other than the few watches Walt was fixing, Annalisa had let go of the repair side of the business. At his urging, she’d made room for even more art, and along with her own, she was now selling art for seven different artists, along with a steady rotation of watches and clocks.
“Maybe we can go by after your show?” he asked.
“You really don’t have to come down for it,” she said, thinking that he surely didn’t want to deal with the hassle.
“You must be joking. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. After what you’ve done to get there.”
She patted his hand. “Would you ride with Nino and Nonna?”
“What a pleasure it would be.” He’d lost so much of his grumpiness lately, and she thought he might have found his nirvana in the last year.
Walt pointed to his jacket on a coatrack. “Do me a favor and hand me my pocket watch.”
