“Poppy.” The fragility of her grandmother’s hand draped over hers again. “What I need is to know that when I’m gone, you’re settled with someone who will take care of you and Lily. That person ought to be her father.” She patted lightly, saying with quiet power, “I know what this would have meant to you.”
If her own father had shown up to take her home, Gran meant. The hot pressure behind her eyes increased.
Even so, there was a part of Poppy that simply heard it as her grandmother wishing Poppy would cease to be a burden upon her.
A spiked ball lodged behind Poppy’s breastbone, one she couldn’t swallow away. It was so sharp it made tears sting her eyes.
“It’s obvious Poppy won’t be comfortable unless you’re comfortable, Eleanor. Give us a chance to finish our talk. Then you and I will discuss your options. I’m sure we can find solutions that satisfy all of us.”
Poppy wanted to shout a giant, scoffing, Ha! She rose to clear the table.
CHAPTER THREE
POPPY BATHED LILY and put her to bed, not giving her daughter the attention she deserved because her mind was still whirling with Rico showing up and demanding more than his daughter. Marriage.
Had she spun that fantasy in her girlish mind? Yes. Even before she slept with him. She had been fascinated by him for weeks, acutely aware of him whether he was making a dry comment or sipping a glass of orange juice. He’d seemed aloof, but in a laid-back way. When she had overheard Faustina going full Bridezilla, shattering a vase and screaming that their wedding was off, Rico had only said in a calm voice, “Let me have the bottom of that. I’ll have to replace it.”
Deep down, she’d been thrilled that Faustina had ended things. Happy for him.
In the solarium, he’d been that charming man she’d seen tonight at dinner, the one who expressed so much interest in others, it was easy to miss that he gave away very little about himself.
He had told her enough that day, however. Enough that she had been fooled into thinking he liked her. That there was a spark of...something.
She’d been wrong. This was the real man. He was severe and intimidating, not raising his voice because he didn’t have to. His wishes, delivered in that implacable tone, were sheer power. She instinctively knew there was no shifting him on the course he had decided.
He didn’t want her, though. She was merely an obstacle he was overcoming as expediently as possible. Her grandmother would see this marriage as a move toward security, but Poppy refused to trust his offer so easily. What if he got her over there and promptly divorced her? Took her to court for custody? There was no way she could survive without Lily.
Lily settled and Poppy went to the front room. Rico had finished the calls he’d been making and was chatting with her grandmother.
Having him in her home made her squirm. It was her private space where she revealed her true self in faded, toothless photos on the wall next to some of her earliest photography efforts. She and Gran had been working their way through a box of paperback romances that Poppy had picked up at a garage sale and Poppy’s latest passionate cover was splayed open on the coffee table.
On the mantel stood Poppy’s framed employee of the month certificate. Her boss at the bus depot had given it to her as a joke. Aside from him, she was the only employee and she was part-time. Gran had had her first good laugh in ages when Poppy had brought it home. Then they’d wept because Gramps would have enjoyed it, too.
Beside the certificate stood a generic birthday card from last month signed, Love, Mom. It was the only message besides the preprinted poem.
Rico was seeing far too much of her in this space. Maybe gathering ammunition for why his daughter couldn’t stay here. A man so low on sentiment wouldn’t recognize the comfort in the worn furniture and the value of memory-infused walls.
“The weatherman said it’s a good night for stargazing,” Gran was telling Rico while nodding at the television. “You might even see the northern lights.”
“It’s freezing outside,” Poppy protested. “Literally.” Spring might be a few days away on the calendar, but there was still thick frost on her windshield every morning.
“Bundle up.” Gran dismissed Poppy’s argument with the hardy practicality of a woman who’d lived on the prairies her whole life. “Your grandfather and I always came to agreement walking around Fisher’s Pond. I have the phone right here.” She touched the table where the cordless phone lived. “I’ll call if Lily wakes and fusses.”
Poppy glanced at Rico, hoping he would say it was late and he would come back tomorrow.
“I left my gloves in the car. I’ll collect them on my way.”
She bit back a huff and layered up, pulling on boots, mittens and a toque before tramping into what was actually a fairly mild night, considering the sky was clear and there was still snow on the ground.
The moon turned the world a bluish daylight and her footsteps crunched after Rico as they started away from the car. He wound a red scarf around his neck
as they walked.
“Before today, I had only flown over prairies, never driven through them.” His breath clouded as he spoke.
“Were you fighting to stay awake?”
“No, but it’s very relaxing. Gives you time and space to think.”