"Hey! How's my favorite romance author?" She came to hug Poppy. "I heard you were a hit at the festival. I couldn't make it to your panel, I was stuck on my booth all day, but we sold out of my nautical collection and I made out like a bandit with my books, coffee, air mugs. See?" She held up a chunky blue cup with swirling white letters.
"I love it!" Poppy examined the glaze. "I'll take ten."
"Ooh, big spender." Mackenzie grinned. "Either that, or your coffee habit has spiraled way out of control."
Poppy smiled. "No, I figure I should stock up on gifts before I leave."
Mackenzie's head snapped around. "Leave?" she echoed, eyes wide. "You're going back to New York? But what about Cooper?"
Poppy blinked. She'd figured the legendary Sweetbriar gossip mill would have been working overtime, and Mackenzie was just being sweet to ignore the subject, but looking at the confusion on her face, she wasn't so sure.
"I'm going home," she said slowly. "Cooper and I broke up."
"He did WHAT?" Mackenzie's voice echoed. She caught her breath. "Sorry," she said. "But I am going to murder that man." She stripped off her apron, as if she was about to march out the door right that second.
"No!" Poppy yelped. "Don't, please."
"But what about you?" Mackenzie looked back at her. "Are you OK? When was this? What happened?"
Poppy slowly filled her in on the (brief) details, Mackenzie shaking her head the whole time. "I knew it," she muttered. "I knew he'd go and do something to screw this up. It's like he's incapable of letting himself be happy. He's going to wind up bitter and alone, just like I said."
Poppy swallowed hard. The thought of Cooper alone and miserable hit her squarely in the gut. She didn't want that for him. She wanted him to be happy.
With her.
"You're taking this way too calmly," Mackenzie added, looking at her with concern. "If I were you, I'd be breaking things right now. His things."
Poppy managed a weak smile. "I guess I'm still in a daze." She shrugged. "I've been mostly wallowing. There was some drinking," she added, remembering Quinn. "But overall, wallowing. June finally dragged me out of the house today. I think she was getting worried."
"She was right." Mackenzie nodded. "There are seven stages to grief. First, sweatpants."
"I've definitely checked that off the list."
"Good." Mackenzie gave her a smile. "That means you're all set for stage two. Follow me."
She headed for the back before Poppy could argue. Curious, she set down her mugs and followed. The studio area was a chaotic mess of pottery, paperwork, and tools, but Mackenzie led her past the room and out of the back door, to where there was a small grassy yard with a table and chairs, and a shed-like structure in the back. "I keep my kiln in there, in case it overheats and something explodes," Mackenzie explained. "And this is where I do my anger management." She presented a corner of the yard filled with shards of broken pottery, layered inches deep.
"You don't seem angry to me." Poppy looked around. There were flowers and hearts painted on the wall, and a box full of daffodils blooming cheerfully by the window.
"That's because I work it all out here." Mackenzie smiled. "Try it." She handed Poppy a vase that was chipped and misshapen. "They're my offcuts," she explained. "I smash them up and make mosaics."
"I don't know . . ." Poppy didn't feel like smashing things. Truth be told, she still felt like curling under the covers back at the cottage and never coming up for air. But Mackenzie was insistent.
"It makes you feel better, I promise. Just imagine you're throwing it at Cooper's big, stubborn head."
Poppy gulped. "Don't ask me to picture him. It hurts too much."
Mackenzie gave her a sympathetic look. "We're going to need a bigger bowl."
She took the vase from Poppy's hands and hurled it suddenly at the shed wall. It broke with a loud SMASH, the pieces flying out in every direction. Poppy jumped. "See?" Mackenzie beamed. "It's very therapeutic."
Poppy blinked. Mackenzie found her a bowl from the collection of defective pottery and passed it over. "Just toss it right down," Mackenzie insisted. "It feels good, I swear."
Poppy didn't know what else to do, so she half-heartedly lobbed the bowl at the heap of debris. It hit the wall with a gentle thud and cracked in two before sliding to the ground.