"She's a character, isn't she?"
"She was always my favorite relative growing up," Poppy confided. "She always told me the truth, not just what she thought you wanted to hear, like all the other grown-ups."
Cooper nodded. "She would stop by a lot, back when my dad was dying." He traced her hand, turning it over in his. Poppy watched him, the wry smile on his face edged with sadness. "Everyone was bringing casseroles and healthy snacks," he explained. "But she'd show up with a bottle of whiskey and his favorite ice cream. I would hear them laughing, playing cards, or gossiping. I didn't get to hear him laugh much those days."
Poppy squeezed his hand. Cooper seemed to realize what he'd said. He gave her a shrug. "She was a good friend to him. That's why I don't mind, when she, you know . . ."
"Is wildly inappropriate?"
"Something like that." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, so naturally, it made her stomach flip over. "Anyway, I just stopped by to see if you wanted to head into Provincetown. I have to pick up some supplies, but we could get lunch, and you could walk around, or write?"
"That sounds great," Poppy said, smiling. "I've been meaning to drive up there. I have this vivid memory from when I was a kid, eating lobster rolls, right on the pier."
"Then lobster rolls it is."
They drove up the coast with the windows wide open and the sea air whipping Poppy's hair into a tangle. She didn't mind. It was a perfect spring day, bright and blue-skied, and it seemed like they had the whole Cape to themselves. In a few months, the beaches would be packed with vacationers, crowding for the Fourth of July fireworks and lining up for ice cream on the pier, but for now, the road wound through lush green plains, with the empty shore unfurling lazily alongside. She hadn't thought ahead yet to her summer plans, but now the possibilities danced, tempting on the breeze. She'd thought she'd be setting up house with Owen in the city, hosting BBQs in his postage-stamp backyard and working her way through her thank-you notes for their wedding, but that plan was ancient history now. An alternate life in some parallel universe she couldn't even picture, it felt so far away.
"Penny for them?" Cooper asked, as the road forked into Provincetown.
"Nothing." Poppy glanced over. "Just thinking . . . it's funny how things turn out."
He reached over to take her hand. "It sure is."
She knew they should talk soon about what it was they were doing and if she should stay in town for longer, but Poppy didn't want to wreck the moment. For now, she was still wrapped in that delicious haze of new beginnings and wanted it to last for as long as possible. So they ate lobster rolls from that same place Poppy remembered from twenty years ago, sitting on a wooden bench overlooking the bay, and strolled the winding, old streets hand in hand, until Cooper had to make his detour to the building supplies yard.
"I shouldn't be long," he said, pulling her in for a quick kiss. "An hour, maybe? I'll call when I'm done."
"That's perfect." Poppy looked around, spying the old library just ahead. "I brought my laptop so I can squeeze in a few more words."
Cooper headed back to his truck, and Poppy hitched her bag higher and made her way over to the library entrance. It was an old converted church with soaring ceilings, and inside, she was surprised to find a replica of a schooner boat sitting slap-bang in the middle of the main floor, the sails stretching fifteen feet high. Mackenzie was right: they loved their nautical history here on the Cape. Off to one side, there was a reading room, and Poppy finally settled in to work, enjoying the quiet hum of conversation around her, and the bursts of children's voices from the story-time across the room. The hour drifted past, sunlight spilling on the floors around her, and Poppy found herself writing easily, speeding through the action on the page. She checked her plot outline and felt a sense of satisfaction. Despite her bumpy start, she had flown through the book these past couple of weeks. At this rate, she'd be done by the end of the month.
And then . . . ?
Poppy paused. All her earlier thoughts about the future bubbled to the surface again, but this time, she didn't push them back.
She could see herself here, for more than just a brief vacation.
Poppy weighed the idea cautiously. She'd only been there a little while, but already, it felt like home. Not just the way she felt with Cooper; it was more than that-the sense of community in Sweetbriar, the real feeling of belonging that had somehow wrapped around her. She knew it was impulsive to think about uprooting her life and moving halfway across the country, but still, she couldn't help imagining the days and weeks ahead, as spring turned to summer on the Cape, and their relationship deepened, and became something real. She could stay another month . . . she could rent a place for the summer . . .