I flopped down on my couch.  One phone call from that woman and the merits of my mental health day disappeared.  Tears welled up in my eyes.  I do need to find an apartment in town that will take Simon and my pottery wheel and kiln and the rest of my equipment.  Pottery is my therapy.  The thought of storing my equipment in a place without easy access is unthinkable.  I opened my laptop and looked through an online rental site for places with garages.  Just then Simon jumped up onto the sofa seat and knocked my purse over.  Meghan’s card fell out.

Blooming Bud isn’t that far from town; it’s actually closer than my house.  I could easily commute from there.  I could spend my off time with like minded people, especially Paul.  “The question is, can I afford the studio / apartment?  I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Meghan Presley.”

“Hi, Meghan this is Ember Burns.  We met earlier today.”

“Of course Ember.  It is so nice to hear from you.  Is everything alright?”

“Well, when I was in the village today and I saw a pottery studio next to the Glassworks.  I was wondering who I needed to talk to about renting it.”

“Actually, I can give you the particulars of that unit.  It totals 2000 square feet.  That includes both loft and studio.  It rents for $1150 per month.  One of the requirements of living here is that you conduct demonstrations of your craft for visitors.  We are a family here and we want every resident to participate.  Would you like to try this out for a few weeks to see if it suits you?”

“What do you think Simon?  I whispered.  “Should we?”

Simon seemed to like the idea; he purred loudly.  So I made arrangements to stay in the village for two months.  After that time, I would make my final decision.  I went outside and packed.

The next afternoon, I stood in the middle of a fortress of boxes when I heard a car pull into the driveway.  I peeked out the window.  Jennifer and Richard climbed out of his red corvette.  I had seen enough of those two during the week; so I chose to slip out into the garden.  I still had several things to box up in the pottery shed and I wanted my solitude.

I had packed all of my finished pieces, complete with red dots, and was cleaning out my clay extruder when I heard a sound behind me.  I turned.  Richard stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.  He scowled at me over his glasses.