Page 60 of The Innovator

The bulge in my shorts ached. I should probably go shower to cool myself off, but I was inspired. A familiar spark ignited in me, and I grasped it.

Heading to my workshop on the ground floor, I retrieved the toolkit from the shelf and pulled out the chair I’d started a year ago but never finished. It needed two more legs and some sanding. The maple tree that had fallen over a year ago had been used for multiple purposes. It became the abstract stools and a bench around the grill area, a nightstand for a suite, the railing on the deck, and this chair.

I attached one leg and then the other. I set the chair down on my work table and shifted it around. I examined it, remembering the joy that had started this project. I’d wanted to make a unique chair that was both functional and stylistic. It was finally finished. The only thing it needed was the final touches, which were as important as the assembly itself.

Standing at my work table, I got lost in the process of creation. It was just me and the chair. Everything else disappeared. As I sanded the roughness from the wooden surface, I was symbolically removing the dirt and unnecessary things clinging to me. The motion of sanding—of refining—was my meditation. It had been a long time since I could connect to this meditative state again. Before I knew it, I was finished and whistling. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d whistled.

The modern style chair was done. I placed it down on the ground and studied it. I’d stain it another day.

Maybe Natalie would like to help me pick out a stain color for it. Now that I knew she was a fashion designer, she’d be wonderful at choosing colors.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

NATALIE

After my shower, I went to look for Grayson, and noises drew me to his workshop. The door was left open, and I didn’t want to interrupt his concentration. His eyes were fixated on the modern chair that looked almost animalistic—a clue to another aspect of him.

He was in the creative zone—a magical place that allowed creators and inventors the freedom of expression. It would be wrong to distract someone from that creative flow. I understood it because I’d experienced that every time I worked on my creation. The mind shut everything out, allowing the heart to take over.

He moved his whole body while he worked, and I couldn’t keep my eyes from the muscles that flexed on his shoulders, back, arms, and legs.

I stood in the doorway, admiring him and his masterpiece. “It’s beautiful.”

Grayson whipped his attention to me and smiled. “You look fresh, clean, and stunning.”

“Thank you. I didn’t know you made furniture.”

Grayson walked over to stand next to me, looking hotter than before in his now sweat-drenched T-shirt.

“I make furniture when I have time. Just for fun.”

I walked around the chair, studying it. “You’re very talented.”

“I know,” he said, rocking back on his heels, watching me.

“And very arrogant.”

“It’s confidence.”

“The abstraction makes the chair look like unique architecture.” I ran my fingers along the curved backing and tilted the chair. “From this angle, it also looks like an animal, some kind of fantastical beast.”

“You see that too?” He grabbed the chair, turning it upside down and sideways. The way he held the chair and how his hands and fingers touched it showed a man who cherished his work.

Would he examine me the same way?

Did I want him to?

Yes, I do.

“It’s a unique piece of furniture. Are you going to stain it?”

“I’m hoping you can help me pick out a color tomorrow.”

I smiled. “I’d love to.”

This was my link to Grayson: my ability to comprehend his creative side. But I also admired his business acumen because he’d succeeded whereas I had failed. I was struggling to keep House of LaRue afloat. Could I have done something different to prevent our financial downfall? I should have paid closer attention to the finances even though the CFO, Aunt Estelle, should have taken care of everything. Numbers weren’t my forte.

“Sounds like a plan.” He gestured to the chair. “Have a seat. You’re the first person to test it out. Give me your thoughts.”

---