Chapter 4 - The Boy

Aunt Bee nosed the bright red Mustang into a parking spot in front of a little shop at the end of a strip mall, nestled between a dry cleaner and a nail salon. When they walked in, Gracie noticed the smell of fresh-cut wood and could hear a saw buzzing somewhere in the back of the building. The walls were decorated with hundreds of picture frames of all types, many of them plain, but some were intricately carved. The massive collection of frames was painted or stained pretty much every colour of the rainbow. There were finished and unfinished frames everywhere, and Gracie noticed that they all looked to be made of wood. The photos on the walls of her parent’s house were almost exclusively framed in plastic, and outside of her aunt’s ranch, Gracie couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a frame that wasn’t plastic. Until she entered this shop, where it seemed that nothing was artificial.

An older man came out from the backroom at the sound of the bells on the front door. When he saw that it was Gracie and Aunt Bee, he gave them a smile and a wave. The blue apron and safety glasses resting on his head were covered with a fine layer of sawdust.

“Gracie, this is Stan. He’s my friend that made your beautiful jewelry box,” said Aunt Bee.

“It’s nice to meet you, Stan, and wow, that box is amazing and full of surprises. You are very good with wood,” she said.

Stan smiled and bowed, then said with a broken accent, “I been doing voodvorking for my whole life, and I still love it when a pretty girl say she like what I make. Thank you much, young miss.”

“Gracie, I have to chat with Stan for a minute. Are you OK out here?” asked Aunt Bee.

She replied with her normal ‘Yup’ and watched Bee go into the back with the older gentleman.

She walked over to one of the uniquely carved frames and started admiring the loops and whirls, curlicues, and hidden figures. As she looked closer, she thought it almost looked like handwritten script – a story carved into the wood with magical letters in a long-forgotten alphabet.

“Do you like that? My grandfather just finished it.”

The sound of the voice startled Gracie, and she could feel her cheeks flushing red as she turned towards the sound.

The boy must have been working behind the counter, as Gracie didn’t see him when she came in. He was a bit taller than her, but not by much. He had dark brown hair and the start of a summer tan, and his brown eyes were kind and warm.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

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“You didn’t, but I didn’t know anyone else was here,” she replied. “Your grandpa made this? It’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah, he’s been doing this since forever. Most people would have retired long before, but he’s here every day. He’s teaching me how to do it, too.”

He held up his hands, and Gracie could see a patchwork of bandages on most of his fingers.

“I think I’ve got a way to go until I’m as good as he is,” he said.

“I’m Joe. Are you with Ms. Gardinier?” he asked.

“Yeah, she’s my aunt,”

“She’s a regular and very nice,” he said. “And I love that convertible Mustang.”

Gracie liked the way his hair fell into his eyes, and his smile definitely made her smile. He was cute, and with that thought, she felt her cheeks turn red. Again.

“I’m Gracie.”

“Cool. My grandpa made that frame for your aunt, but it’s not done yet. There’s some work to do in the details, then we need to sand it, stain it, and seal it. It’s kinda funny how much work goes into something that many people don’t even look at, but if it’s not there, it just looks kinda wrong,” he said.

“I think they look amazing on their own,” said Gracie. “I bet these frames might be even nicer than the pictures they hold sometimes.”

He smiled again. Which made Gracie smile, too.

To break the eye contact, she looked back at his bandaged fingers.

“Grandpa says you can’t force a design into the wood. You have to look at it and find the design buried inside,” said Joe. “That’s the part I’m still learning. Most of the time, all I see is the grain and stain, but every once in a while, I get a glimpse of what it could look like.”

Gracie looked around the room, noticing that some of the frames on the walls held paintings. She walked towards one that looked interesting.

“My aunt has always loved art, and she’s collected it for as long as I’ve known her.”

“Grampa calls her a ‘keeper,’ and she’s one of our best customers. We make new frames for her a few times a month – her place must be full of them by now.”

The painting Gracie was looking at was a well-worn path through a sunlit forest; autumn leaves covered much of the forest floor. She could imagine how the leaves would crunch as she walked over them, and she could almost smell the onset of winter. As she looked closer at the painting, the frame seemed to grow wider as the picture stretched deeper, giving the illusion that she could follow the path to what lay beyond.

Joe’s voice interrupted her fascination with the painting, and the illusion faded like an early-morning dream.

“For such a simple painting, I’ve always liked it. It makes me think of your Aunt’s house, even though I’ve never been there,” he said.

“The Escape is my favourite place in the world. I’ve spent every summer there since I was a kid. It’s such a huge place for Aunt Bee, all by herself, but it’s always felt like home to me,” said Gracie.

“Maybe you can come out sometime, and I’ll show it to you?” Gracie couldn’t believe she had just asked the boy out, but there it was, hanging in the air between them.

“That’d be awesome – maybe Sunday? I have some work in the morning, but we’re closed for the day, so I can maybe ride out in the afternoon,” he answered, the smile on his face reaching up to his eyes.

“Do you like dogs?” she asked.

“Love ’em – sometimes more than I like people,” he replied.

“OK good, because if Ginger doesn’t like you, we can’t hang out,” she joked.

“I’ll bring some good treats for her and promise to give her lots of head skritches. I haven’t met her yet, but I’m sure she’s the bestest,” he answered.

Gracie had a feeling that Ginger would like Joe just fine, and she suspected that she might, too.