Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Anna
The next morning the kids were up with the sun, excited and ready to go to the pottery studio. They’d actually beaten Lilly and Anna awake, which made Anna giggle.
“They’re usually not up this early for Christmas,” she said playfully as her mom walked into the kitchen.
“Their excitement makes this easier, that’s for sure.” Lily smiled. “I was a little hesitant this morning, thinking about all the things that I haven’t done yet. Hearing their giggling and whispers helped me forget about all those things.”
“I’m glad. I love that we get to share this with you, Mom. It’s definitely giving core memory vibes for the kids. I know how much I loved going to the studio with you, and now they get that, too.”
The four of them ate breakfast and got dressed, ready to head to the studio in town. As they pulled into the parking lot, Anna noticed Tom’s old truck sitting in a spot.
“Looks like he was serious yesterday,” Anna said with a smile.
“It does,” Lily answered with a shake of her head. “He’s a really nice man, it’s nice that he moved next door.”
“Seems to be very knowledgeable in a lot of things, too.”
“He’s a widower, too. It’s nice that he gets that part.”
Anna swallowed hard. She knew what her mother meant, but it was still hard to hear. Her mother had lost her husband, her best friend, and life partner. While Anna had lost her father, it was different. She was grateful that she had found someone who understood her mother’s grief and pain, though.
“Coffee, croissants, and some donuts for the twins, as promised.”
“I don’t remember the donut part,” Anna teased.
“Little bribe for them,” Tom chuckled as he grinned back at her. “I’m caffeinated and sugared up so that I can be the best assistant to the teacher today.”
“I’m not sure that you know what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Lily said over her shoulder as she made her way into the studio.
Anna took a deep breath as her mother unlocked the door and let everyone inside.
“This is a beautiful place,” Tom said as he made a sound like a low whistle.
“My dad helped convert it. A lot of the signage was handcrafted by him.”
“That’s beautiful craftsmanship. I’ve walked by the front of this place before and was mesmerized by the combination of the woodworking skills and the beautiful pottery pieces. They seemed to mesh well together.”
“For sure.” Anna grinned proudly.
“What do we do first, Grandma?” Nora asked excitedly.
Blaze was practically bouncing on his toes as he rubbed his hands together and looked around the place. “I’ll move all the heavy stuff, I’m the strongest after all.”
There was a chorus of giggles at that, but Lily immediately stepped up and started directing everyone where to go and what to do. Between Tom, Lilly, Anna, and the twins, things were moving in the right direction, and they got everything done before the first student arrived.
Anna stood near the door, arms crossed loosely over her chest, watching as her mother moved about with practiced ease, setting up the last of the tools and supplies for the kids’ class.
There was something surreal about it. When they first arrived on the Vineyard, Anna wasn’t sure that she’d ever see her mother in the studio again, and yet here they were.
Lily was in her element. She wore a faded linen apron over her jeans and a loose white blouse that caught the sunlight in a way that made her seem almost ethereal. Her laughter was light as she stooped to show Nora how to wedge a lump of clay on the low table.
Anna glanced toward the doorway as the first of the local kids began to trickle in, chattering and wide-eyed.
A few parents followed, lingering near the entrance to check in or snap a quick photo.
Tom stood beside her, a cup of coffee in hand and a relaxed smile playing on his lips. He looked completely at ease.
“Wow,” he murmured, nodding toward Lily. “Your mom’s kind of amazing at this.”
Anna didn’t respond right away. She watched Lily kneel beside Blaze and gently guide his small hands through the forming of a pinch pot.
“Yeah,” she said eventually, her voice quieter than she intended. “She really is.”
It felt strange to see her like this. Not that Lily hadn’t always had warmth in her, but there was something different now. Something lighter. She glowed in a way Anna hadn’t seen since her father had passed away.
Tom took a sip of coffee and nudged her gently with his elbow. “You okay?”
Anna nodded. “Yeah. Just… adjusting. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her so…”
“Whole,” he offered.
She looked up at him, surprised. “Yeah. That. You seem to get it.”
“I was your mother a few years ago when I lost my wife. It’s a hole you never expect to have to dig yourself out of.”
Anna didn’t reply, but she nodded slowly as she watched her mother interact with the kids.
Tom had rolled up his sleeves, the clay on his hands a telltale sign that he’d already been roped into helping.
It had surprised her yesterday when he’d asked to join the class.
More surprising still was how seamlessly he’d stepped into their morning today by helping carry tables outside, prepping water buckets, even fielding questions from curious kids about what they’d be doing.
His easy nature made it impossible not to like him.
Still, there was something about how quickly he and her mother had clicked that made Anna pause. Not in a suspicious way, exactly, but more like a protective daughter taking stock of a changing dynamic.
“You two get along well,” she said, not unkindly.
Tom chuckled. “She reminds me of my sister. Or how my sister used to be before she got too busy being someone else. Lily’s just… grounded. She listens. She pays attention. That’s rare. We also have some of the same scars when it comes to losing a spouse.”
Anna nodded, her gaze drifting back to her mother again. Lily stood before the group now, hands clasped in front of her as she addressed the small circle of children.
“Pottery,” she said, her voice warm and animated, “isn’t just about making bowls or vases. It’s about listening. To yourself. To the clay. It tells you what it wants to be. And when you make something with your hands, you leave a little bit of yourself behind in it. That’s the magic.”
The kids were captivated. Even the ones who looked like they might have had too much sugar at breakfast sat quietly, their attention fixed on her. She bent down to the table and picked up a lump of clay, demonstrating how to roll it into a smooth ball.
Anna felt something catch in her chest.
Her mother looked radiant.
Not in the way of magazine covers or movie stars, but in that deeper, undeniable way that people do when they are living fully in a moment they love. She spoke to the kids like equals, never talking down to them; her language was simple and rich with care. Her hands moved with confidence.
Anna moved closer to the circle, drawn in like everyone else. She crouched beside Nora, who was pressing her palms into a slab of clay.
“That’s good,” Anna said with a smile. “You’ve got strong hands.”
Nora beamed. “Max helped. We played fetch all morning. I think I’m stronger now.”
Anna laughed. “I bet.”
Blaze, sitting nearby, held up his attempt at a coil pot. “Is this right?”
Lily knelt beside him, inspecting his work. “It’s wonderful,” she said gently. “And you can smooth it with a little water, like this.” She demonstrated, her voice calm and encouraging.
Anna watched as Tom helped a boy about five untangle his apron strings. He knelt and tied it for him, patient and smiling, then sent the boy back to his seat with a gentle pat on the shoulder. Anna smiled as she watched the encounter. Tom was a natural.
The laughter of children filled the space, blending with the quiet scrapes and squishes of clay being molded. Time slowed down in that way it sometimes does when something good is happening. Anna felt a lightness in her chest she hadn’t realized she was missing.
Later, as the kids started finishing up their projects, Lily helped them line their creations on drying shelves by the window. The light caught each one, imperfect and beautiful. Clay turtles, wobbly bowls, strange animal hybrids with too many legs.
“We’ll fire these in the kiln,” Lily explained. “Then you can paint them next week if you want to come back.”
The kids cheered at the idea.
Anna turned to Tom. “You coming back, too?”
He grinned. “Only if I get to keep making lopsided mugs. I think it might be my calling.”
Anna chuckled, shaking her head. She was surprised by how easily he fit in, how his presence didn’t feel like an intrusion.
As the parents began arriving to pick up their kids, the studio buzzed with gratitude and clay-covered hands holding up misshapen masterpieces.
Lily hugged a few of the kids she knew, promised to send updates on the firing process, and accepted a thank-you muffin from one mom who swore it was banana-chocolate and completely life-changing.
Anna stayed back, wiping down tables, her hands stained with flecks of dry clay. Lily joined her after a bit, standing beside her with a deep breath and a warm, tired smile.
“You were amazing,” Anna said softly.
Lily looked over, her expression tender. “Thank you. It felt good.”
Anna paused, then added, “You looked happy.”
Lily smiled again, this time with a hint of wonder. “I am.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the studio around them now quiet and sun-drenched, every surface dusted with the remnants of creativity. It was a sacred kind of mess.
Tom stepped in with a tray of empty water cups. “Well,” he said, “if I wasn’t a believer before, I definitely am now. Pottery is magic.”
Lily laughed. “It kind of is, isn’t it?”
Anna watched the two of them, and the odd pang she’d felt earlier softened. Maybe this was okay. Maybe it was better than okay. Her mother was radiant and starting to find her way back to something like joy.
As they packed up the last of the supplies, sunlight pouring in through the windows and laughter still echoing in Anna’s ears, she thought about how sometimes, the most beautiful things came from being willing to get your hands dirty.