Chapter 14 #2
“I love it. Remind me to come back another time and browse,” Poppy said, looking around. “I know my friend back home would love this stuff. She’s a chef, so she goes crazy when it comes to kitchenware. I swear, she has more mixing bowls than pairs of socks.”
“My kind of customer.” Mackenzie grinned. “Feel free to stop by anytime.”
In the back, Mackenzie had pushed aside a workbench and potter’s wheel and arranged a mismatched assortment of chairs in a circle. She dragged a bench closer, and began to unpack various Tupperware filled with dessert. “I told you,” she said, catching Poppy’s eye. “We don’t mess around.”
“I can see that.” Poppy accepted a plate full of the famous plum cobbler and a glass of wine, and took a seat with the others.
“It’s such a treat, having a real author join us,” Franny beamed. She was in her seventies maybe, wearing a voluminous knit caftan in bright pinks and blues. “You’ll have to tell us all about your new book.”
“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt you,” Poppy said quickly. “What book are you discussing this week?”
There was a pause, and then everyone laughed. Poppy looked around, confused. “We call it a book group, but most of the time, we just come here to natter,” Franny explained.
“Because some people can’t agree on what to read,” Debra piped up.
“You’re the one who didn’t like our last pick,” Bert complained.
“I just don’t see why we have to read another thinly-veiled story about some literature professor having a midlife crisis and seducing his students!”
Poppy caught Mackenzie’s eye. The other woman gave a wink. “See what I mean?” she said. “Anyway, it’s usually safer just to steer clear. They nearly came to blows over Karl Ove Knausg?rd last year.”
“My money’s on Franny. She looks like she fights dirty,” Poppy murmured, and Mackenzie snorted with laughter.
“What about you, how is the writing going?”
“Good!” she said. “Finally. I was blocked for a while,” she explained. “But I finally figured it out. With Cooper’s help.”
Mackenzie raised her eyebrow. “Grumpy dude, yay high, sworn against romance? Are we talking about the same guy?”
Poppy laughed. “I know, I was surprised too. But he’s been really supportive. He even found me a spot to write, so all the construction noise doesn’t interrupt me.” She pulled out her phone, and showed Mackenzie photos of the cabin.
“Huh. He’s just full of surprises,” Mackenzie said, looking thoughtful. “I heard you guys had dinner,” she added.
“Wow, news really does travel fast.” Poppy paused. “Is there a flare that goes up, or a bell ringing out, like Paul Revere?”
“We move with the times.” Mackenzie grinned. “Group texts, all the way.”
She laughed. “Yes, we went out,” Poppy admitted.
“And?”
“It went great . . . until my ex showed up.” She made a face. “I had to straighten things out with him, but now I don’t know if Cooper has the wrong idea about us. I haven’t heard from him yet.”
Mackenzie sighed. “Men can be dim sometimes.”
Someone cleared their throat loudly, and Poppy turned to find Bert looking put out.
“Not you,” Mackenzie said quickly.
“Have you tried texting?” Debra asked, and Poppy realized that they’d all been listening in to the conversation.
“No, don’t text, it’s so impersonal,” Franny argued. “My grandkids are glued to their phone all day. There’s no romance about it.”
“Maybe you’re doing it wrong,” the other younger woman, Ellie, said cheekily. “Text can be plenty romantic if you know the right emojis.”
“Shakespeare would be turning in his grave,” Franny tutted. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Heart emoji, sun, winky face.”
They all laughed, but Poppy felt a little self-conscious, having everyone pitch in about her love life.
“Sorry.” Mackenzie must have seen her discomfort, because she gave Poppy a sympathetic look. “Small town. We have problems with boundaries.”
“Oh, hush you,” Debra piped up. “We want to hear more about this date with Cooper. Where did you go?”
“It can’t have been around here, otherwise we’d have already heard about it,” Bert remarked.
“He hasn’t dated in a while, has he?” Franny mused. “Not since—”
“Why don’t we talk about books!” Mackenzie interrupted. “If you can’t share what you’re working on now, how about telling us more about your career?” she prompted Poppy. “How did you get your first book published? Have you met Fabio?”
Poppy let out a sigh of relief. Normally, she didn’t like talking about herself, but it was definitely better talking fiction than spilling all the details of her real-life love life.
“Well, it was years ago,” she began, as they thankfully all turned their attention back to the wine and dessert. “I was working as a temp at an office, writing on my computer when I should have been working . . .”
The afternoon passed quickly in the warm glow of home-baked desserts, gossip, and a good few glasses of wine. By the time everyone said their goodbyes and headed off home, Poppy had promised to come back for the next meeting—and give them a mention in her acknowledgments page, too.
“Thanks for putting up with all our nosy questions,” Mackenzie said when they were alone. “And I’m sorry if we got too personal, about Cooper.”
“There’s not much to get personal about.” Poppy helped tidy away their glasses. “He still hasn’t texted me back. I guess that means he’s not interested.”
“Or, he thinks you’re holed up somewhere with your ex,” Mackenzie corrected her. “Or his phone is dead, and he hasn’t seen your messages. Or he took a boat out, and got lost in a freak storm—”
“OK!” Poppy stopped her, laughing. “I get it. But in fiction, and real life, the simplest explanation is usually the best. If Cooper doesn’t suggest picking up where we left off, it probably means he doesn’t want to.”
Mackenzie shook her head. “No way. Remember, men don’t take a hint. You need to make it clear you’re interested. Make the first move.”
She seemed strangely insistent, but maybe Poppy was just being too scared.
“You should just go over there.”
“Tonight?” Poppy blinked. “Isn’t that stalking?”
“Or a grand romantic gesture,” Mackenzie pointed out.
“I don’t know . . .” Poppy’s stomach tied up in knots just thinking about making the first move.
“OK.” Mackenzie shrugged. “Don’t. Wait around for him to get his head out of his ass long enough to text you back. But I wouldn’t hold my breath,” she advised. “Cooper Nicholson is one stubborn man.”
He was. Poppy’s heart sank. If he had the wrong idea about Owen showing up, then Cooper could just act like their date had never happened. The chance could slip away if Poppy didn’t take the risk and find out once and for all if their sparks added up to anything real.
Her pulse sped up. “I’m going to do it,” she said, surprising herself. “I’m going to see him.”
“Yes!” Mackenzie clapped her hands together in delight. “OK, I have his address right here. And you look great in what you’re wearing. What about your underwear?”
“Mackenzie!” Poppy exclaimed.
“What? Come on.” She grinned. “A girl has to be prepared.”
Poppy thought back to getting dressed that morning. Pale-blue, lace boy-shorts and her favorite bra. “It’s fine.”
“Then you’re good to go.” Mackenzie presented her with a scrap of paper, scribbled with an address. She grabbed an unopened bottle of wine, and the leftover cobbler container, too, and thrust them into Poppy’s arms. “For luck.”
“Thanks.” Poppy felt a nervous flutter. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Maybe I shouldn’t. Or should I?”
Mackenzie pushed her gently towards the door. “You definitely should. One of us needs some romantic adventure, and it sure isn’t going to be me. Not unless you count the hot night I have planned with ESPN.”
“Thank you.” Poppy paused at the door. “I had a great time this afternoon.”
“Me too.” Mackenzie beamed. “Be sure to come by tomorrow and tell me how it all went!”