He lived in a cozy brick house filled with interesting antiques, old movie posters, and an attic bursting with trunks full of old clothes and photos. She’d get lost up there for hours when she needed a connection with her parents, poring over her family heritage ripped away from her too soon. Poppy was tough and smart. He aged with a grizzly endurance that taught her to appreciate life in all forms and stages, good and bad, old and new, giving her hope that each morning would bring a surprise. He’d owned a small auto repair station for years, content to spend his days under the hood, where the memories of war and what he’d left behind faded under the turn of a greasy wrench. He’d taught her a bit about cars and how to take care of herself. Arilyn used a lot of his techniques and turned it toward computers. In some ways, mechanics were the same: there was a larger picture where everything finally fit. The journey was half the fun.
He’d been a handsome man, with piercing green eyes and a full head of silver hair that competed with thirty-year-olds’. Sure, his face reflected a map of deep wrinkles, his teeth were no longer his own, and his hands had been gnarled by a touch of arthritis, but Poppy was still her rock.
When they diagnosed him with type 2 diabetes, she realized he couldn’t be alone any longer. He needed to be monitored, and living two hours away wouldn’t work. He was the one who agreed to give up his house and move closer to her. The Best Friends Center in Verily was the perfect fit. The center boasted a lively crowd, with bus trips, group activities, and a certain amount of independence. Besides spending more time with him, he’d be able to keep up his social calendar.
Unfortunately, he was having a hard time fitting in.
“Hey, it’s Tuesday night. Why aren’t you at bingo?”
Those bright green eyes shimmered with outrage. “They won’t let us gamble. Tried to get a pool going, and Elmer Fudd ratted me out. What good is a game if you can’t bet money?”
“Who’s Elmer Fudd?”
“You know that fat guy with the bald head and pudgy cheeks? I always think he’s gonna tell me he’s been hunting wabbits.”
Arilyn pressed her lips together. “It’s not nice to call people fat, Poppy.”
“Everything’s so PC nowadays.”
“How about trying to concentrate on the thrill of winning without money?”
“Boring. Bingo is lame anyway. Hey, is there a way to hook up an iPod in my room? If I have to listen to Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra play on the speakers for one more minute, I’m gonna puke.”
This time she did laugh. “I can’t trust you with an iPod. We’ve already gone through three cell phones before I cut you off.”
He shot her an innocent look. “How was I supposed to know the HOTGIRLS party line cost a dollar a minute?”
“You’re incorrigible. What are we having?”
“I made a stew. Potatoes, onions, and the veggies you love. Mine has meat, yours doesn’t.”
“Hmm, smells delicious.” She lifted the Crock-Pot lid and took a sniff. “Did you go to the organic butcher shop for the meat? They’re grass fed and use humane techniques with their animals.”
“Yes, honey. But I think if you took half the amount of effort to find men as you do food, you’d be married already.” The touch of sympathy on his face made her squirm. She’d done a complete turnaround of her life after her mother died. Death suddenly became real, and Arilyn decided not to become a drain on the world with a large carbon print and nothing to show. Dedicating herself to finding true inner peace and quality health, she sought a path her Poppy never understood but had learned to accept. He didn’t know about her latest breakup with her lover, because he’d never met him or heard her speak of him. No wonder he was worried. Probably thought she hadn’t dated in years.
She shook off the thought and spotted the bottle. “Poppy, alcohol isn’t good for you.” She pointed to the Guinness on the counter, but he waved her off.
“Beer is. Just heard it on the news. Something about the fermentation or wheat. Just one, A. I had a hard day.”
Her heart softened. He was so full of life. The idea of not having him around for another twenty years terrified her, so she always tried to balance her mothering instincts with the knowledge that he also needed some vices. She danced around the pups tumbling at her ankles and took out a full bottle of white wine. Guess she had her own vice.
Arilyn began setting the table. “I had a bad day, too,” she confided. “Started an anger management course.”
“Another job? Can you handle all this?” Poppy spooned out the stew into two bowls and settled at the counter. “What about Kinnections?”