12. Poppy
12
Poppy
“ G ot any exciting weekend plans?” Daisy asks as I untie my apron for the day. My first few shifts at Joe’s are done, and they’ve been great. The setting is cute, the customers are lovely, and it’s a much more relaxed atmosphere than the last place I worked. Dave is friendly, as are the rest of the staff, but I’ve enjoyed getting to know Daisy most of all. She splits her time between Joe’s and freelance photography gigs, and her passion has inspired me to move forward with my own business.
Well, that and the question from Mr. Mathers at dinner last night. When he asked me how things were progressing with the business, I was too embarrassed to admit I’ve done nothing with it lately. To be fair, my life has been in a state of upheaval, but I’ve sorted my living situation and settled in at Joe’s. I have no more excuses not to go ahead with finally launching the business.
All I need is the okay from Bailey.
“This weekend? Nothing much.” I set my apron on the counter and turn back to Daisy with a smile. Bailey and I were super tight, spending most of our free time together, and now that she’s gone, I don’t have any girlfriends to hang out with. For a moment I consider asking Daisy if she might want to do something—see a movie, go for a walk, I don’t know—but I let the impulse pass, and ask, “What about you?”
“Wes and I are going to the beach.” She smiles dreamily, and my gaze drops to the beautiful flower-shaped ring on her left hand. I met Daisy’s husband when he came in for coffee yesterday, and was surprised to see he’s considerably older than her. My guess would be close to twenty years, but he’s an absolute sweetheart, and you can tell he utterly adores her.
I’m not jealous at all.
“Lucky you.” I smile as I grab my bag from under the counter. “Have fun!” I turn for the door, but my steps falter as I spot a familiar silhouette across the street. My heart lodges in my throat and on instinct I step back, colliding with the counter. Is that—
“Are you okay?” Daisy puts a hand on my shoulder, and I glance at her, my pulse frantic.
But when I look back out the window, the figure is gone, and a shaky laugh slips from me. Of course it’s not him. Since Kurt showed up at the house, I feel like I see him everywhere. I have nothing to worry about, not after the way Mr. Mathers scared him off. It will take a while for me to get him off my mind again, that’s all.
Inhaling a deep breath, I smile confidently at Daisy. “I’m fine. Have a great weekend.” And with that, I hold my head high and walk out of Joe’s, determined not to let thoughts of Kurt ruin my day.
Sugar waits for me when I come in the door, mewling as though she’s been abandoned for weeks and not only a few hours since I last popped home on my lunch break. I managed to get an early vet appointment this morning, and I was right—Sugar’s a girl. She’s also very underweight, but I didn’t need to order food for her because Mr. Mathers had already bought it. He’d done a lot more than that; when I came downstairs this morning, I was surprised to find a box of toys and treats, a litter box, a climbing frame, and everything else Sugar could possibly need. He must have gone out last night to purchase it all, and I still can’t quite believe it. He’d seemed so against us keeping Sugar in the first place, so to wake up and find he’d gone on a kitten shopping spree is incomprehensible. I think he likes her more than he lets on.
An image of the kitten wrapped around his broad shoulders as he washed the dishes flashes into my head, and I smile as I kick off my shoes. There’s nothing more adorable than a huge muscly man being affectionate with a tiny kitten. Who knew Mr. Mathers could be such a softy? As if I need another reason to like him. It’s bad enough that he insisted on me staying here for free, that he seems to love my cooking. Now I have to watch him play with Sugar?
This is very bad news for me indeed.
“Hi, cutie.” I scoop Sugar up and place her on my own shoulder as I climb the stairs to my room, but the moment I’m close enough to the bed, she catapults herself onto the comforter.
Huh. She was perfectly content on Mr. Mathers’s shoulder last night, I note as I sink down onto the bed and pull out my laptop. What’s wrong with my shoulder?
“I won’t hold it against you,” I murmur to the kitten as she nuzzles into my leg, purring. Let’s face it, I’d climb him too, given half the chance.
I cross my legs and lean against the solid wood headboard, firing up my laptop. Mr. Mathers won’t be home for a couple hours, so I can use that time to work on the website a little more. After fiddling around with it for a few minutes, all I can think about is Bailey. We’re supposed to do this together, and I don’t even know if she’s still interested. The thought makes any enthusiasm I felt earlier drain away, and I grab my phone, trying to stay positive. I’m sure she’s still on board. She’s been busy with life stuff, like I have. I just need to call her. That will make me feel better.
It occurs to me as the phone rings that she’s probably at work, but I’m sure she can spare ten minutes for a chat. She must have an afternoon break, or something.
“Poppy, hi. Are you okay?” Bailey sounds a little breathless when she answers, and I smile. Of course, her first instinct is to check that I’m safe.
“I’m fine, B. How are you?”
There’s a pause. “I’m… I’m good. Just at work.”
“Yeah, sorry.” I grimace. “Do you have a second to chat? I was thinking about the business. I’d really love to get moving on it.”
“I can’t—” she breaks off to say something to someone in the background, then comes back to the phone. “Sorry. Could we, um, put a pin in this for now? I have so much going on here.”
My stomach sinks. “Of course.”
“I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Sounds good.” I hang up the phone, stroking Sugar’s fur absently. There’s a tightness in my chest I don’t want to acknowledge; I can’t tell if it’s sadness at the thought that Bailey might not want to do this anymore, or anger.
This thought takes me by surprise, but I shake it off. I can’t be mad at Bailey for following her dreams, even if it means leaving me behind. Even if it means breaking her promise to me.
I toss my phone aside and tug my weighted blanket over my legs, sighing. I’m comforted by the pressure of it, and return to my laptop, scrolling through the draft version of our website. The home page is eye-catching, with our logo, pictures of us both, and a clear mission statement front and center. But as I run my eyes over the thing I’ve spent weeks creating, I feel nothing.
You should be a chef.
Mr. Mathers’s words from dinner last night ring through my head, and for a moment I let myself imagine what that life would look like. I could have my own restaurant, or run a catering company. I could spend my days cooking delicious food, experimenting with ingredients, creating my own recipes…
Then I think of everything I gave up to get my marketing degree, and shove the fantasy away. That’s all it is, a fantasy. Kurt spent a lot of time and energy reminding me of that.
Besides, I don’t need Bailey to do this. All I need to do is get out of my own way. The website has been ready for weeks now, and if I’m completely honest with myself, I’ve only been tinkering with it to avoid the much scarier move of actually launching the business.
But there’s no reason I couldn’t make the website live right now. All the information is there. I even have a few months’ worth of blog posts prepared. Our social accounts are all created. They’re just not public yet. The only thing stopping me from starting this business is… me.
Who knows when Bailey will be ready to spend time on it again, or if that’s even what she wants? I’m sick of waiting, holding back, making excuses. I didn’t spend years at college for nothing.
Sugar climbs onto my lap from where she’s been dozing beside me. I have to shift my laptop to the bed in front of me to make room for her, and as I do, I make a decision. This is the time I’m supposed to move forward, and if I have to do it without Bailey, then so be it.
With a steadying breath, I press the button to make the website live. Once I’ve checked it looks as it should, I publish our first blog post, then I go into our social media accounts and make them public, adding a post to each.
When all that’s done, I close the lid on my laptop and look down at Sugar, my blood pulsing. Finally, I’ve taken a step forward with my career, and I’m surprised by the burst of pride and excitement I feel.
I stand from the bed, holding Sugar above me, Lion King style, laughing. “I did it, Sugar! I’m officially in business!”
She gazes down at me warily, and I set her onto the floor with another laugh, following as she sneaks out into the hall and down the stairs. In the living room, I grab one of her toys—a small ball with a rattle inside—and kick it along the floor to her, delighted when she pounces on it with glee. It’s like a weight has lifted off my shoulders, finally launching the business. I should have done this ages ago.
Sugar chases the ball to the glass doors, pausing to watch a sparrow in the yard. I follow her, gazing outside. It’s clear the yard was once artfully designed, but it looks as though no one’s maintained it for some time. The shrubs are unruly, choked by vines that creep from the back wall onto the stone pavers, threatening to swallow the rusty patio furniture. Weeds proliferate between the cracks in the pavers, the overgrown lawn scattered with leaves. It’s ironic how unkempt Mr. Mathers’s yard is, given his profession, but the thought vanishes when Sugar swats the ball away. I chase after her, laughing as she tumbles head over paws, wrestling with the ball.
My laughter vanishes when Mr. Mathers comes in through the front door, an hour earlier than I’d expected him, but it’s not that he’s early making me pause. It’s the scowl twisting his face.