Chapter 32
EMILIA
Despite my grandfather reassuring me half a dozen times that everything was fine, his directive to come visit him on an off day had me worried.
And was I imagining it, or were the employees being extra friendly to me today? I almost felt like a celebrity as I walked through the lobby since they all greeted me by name and smiled.
Something was definitely weird.
I knocked and burst into Poppy’s room all at once, dreading what I’d find.
“I hope you’re decent,” I said as I barreled in.
The man didn’t even jump at the commotion I made. Instead of sitting in his usual chair by the window he was standing at the counter in his kitchenette wearing pressed slacks, his best golf shirt and going out cap.
“There you are,” he grinned. “Coming in like a hurricane, as always.”
“What’s going on? Why are you dressed up?”
“Because we have a date. But first I want to show you something.”
He moved to the side and I saw that he’d been hiding a Clementine’s box on the counter. My heart sank just as quickly as it fizzed with hope.
“Oh. Nice, a whole cake just for you. How did that happen?” I asked.
His eyes twinkled. “You know exactly how, don’t be daft. Here.”
Poppy reached behind him then held out an envelope to me. I took it from him reluctantly.
When I opened it and pulled out the thick card I realized that I was seeing Drew’s handwriting for the first time.
It was compact and messy, but what stood out to me was that he’d taken pen to paper to convey his thoughts.
It tracked given that the man was the world’s biggest techno-phobe.
What didn’t track was how the thought of it made me want to smile.
Bad facial muscles. We don’t smile at the cute things he does anymore.
“What’s it say?” Poppy asked. “Or is it too saucy for an old man like me?”
I snorted and tried to focus on him instead of the words on the note, because my eyes started swimming the moment I read it.
“It says ‘sweet things help you find joy when everything else feels dark.” My voice trembled.
Poppy nodded sagely. “Ah yes, wise words. There’s nothing more soothing than something yummy when the world feels upside-down. Your grandmother and I used to have a ritual with lemon pound cake.”
“Really? I didn’t know about that.”
“I might be an open book but there are a few chapters you haven’t read, missy.
” He raised an eyebrow at me. “When one of us had a hard day the other would head for the kitchen to whip up the ‘when life gives you lemons’ poundcake. We always kept the ingredients on hand. After a lifetime of ups and downs we both knew how to make it with our eyes closed.”
His face relaxed for a moment as he seemed to conjure up the memory more fully.
I felt an ache for him, because I knew that even after all of these years, he still missed my grandmother like he’d just lost her.
“It was as if just the aroma of that cake in the oven could wipe out the worst feelings. It was hard to be angry about a traffic jam, or a jackass boss with the sweet smell of cake in the air. So after a while I felt like Pavlov’s dog any time I smelled lemons.”
“Hey, if you still remember the recipe, maybe you could give it to me and I’ll try to make it.” How hard could it be to throw a bunch of ingredients together and bake it in the oven; especially since I had a working oven now in a brand new shiny kitchen.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think you might be better off with these chocolate cakes.”
I shook my head, eager to distance myself from all things Drew. “No, that cake is for you.”
He winked at me. “Not exactly. Come with me.”
Poppy shuffled to the door and I had no choice but to follow him.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Would you just hush up and walk? You’re ruining everything!”
He led me down the hallway and into the community ballroom where a team of kitchen staff were busy slicing up a dozen cakes.
“Wait, seriously? These are all from …” I trailed off because the answer was obvious.
“Welcome to Cake Friday!” Poppy exclaimed.
“That friend of yours,” he said the word like it was an inside joke, “is having cakes sent every week from now on! And not just the chocolate, because I told him that my friend Edith doesn’t like chocolate.
So he sent a coconut and a vanilla as well. Whatta guy!”
“Wait, you told him about Edith? When?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I have a life and a right to talk to my own friends, you know.”
“He’s not your friend,” I scolded. He wasn’t mine either… not anymore.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he replied. “Now, come with me. There’s more.”
I was used to him issuing orders and following along with no questions asked, but this time around I felt like I deserved to know what was up.
“Poppy, come on. Stop being so mysterious and tell me what’s going on. This is my life you’re messing with.”
He didn’t answer me until we were in a quiet reading room. Of all of the bland beige retirement homes we’d toured I felt lucky that we’d made it into Forrest Glenn, because it had magical little spots like this one, which felt like a library in an old castle.
“Now you keep your mouth closed and listen to me, got it?”
It was his serious tone so I had no choice but to silently nod my head.
“I hope you know how proud I am of you,” he began.
I nodded again.
“I’m especially proud that you learned how to stand up for yourself and ask for what you want out of a relationship.”
“How do you know this?” I asked, confused. We rarely talked about my love life.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I have my ways. Now as I was saying, you learned how to stand up for yourself and get what you need, and that’s definitely a good thing.
But I also worry that now you’ve taken it so far that you’re closed off to true happiness.
Because I can tell you firsthand that love is beautiful, but there are moments when it’s as ugly as last week’s garbage.
It doesn’t mean your love is flawed—it just means that you and your person are human.
You’re gonna hit bumps in the road, and obstacles, but if you believe in what you’ve built with the other person, you’ll fight your way through them.
That’s what your grandmother and I did.”
“But … you never fought. I don’t think I ever heard you raise your voice at each other.”
He chuckled. “That’s because by the time you showed up we’d had a very long time to get it all figured out.
But we had our fair share of ups and downs, trust me.
Did I screw up? Hell yes, and plenty! And I’d never speak a bad word about your grandmother but she had a temper.
There was a time when she liked to throw saucepans at my noggin when she was feeling surly. ”
He shook his head and stared off into the distance like he could see it all playing out again.
“But we never stopped working on what we had. And no matter how frustrated we got with each other we never stopped loving each other. No threats of divorce, or name calling. Ever. Just a commitment to bumble our way through whatever life threw at us.”
I started to feel a little shaky as he spoke, like the solid ground beneath my feet was rumbling.
It sounded like he had some sort of insider knowledge about what I’d been through with Drew, but I wasn’t about to open myself up to a conversation about what went wrong between us with my grandfather. I probably needed therapy.
“Good to know,” I answered. “I’ll keep your advice in mind if I ever find the time and inclination to date again. For now, I’m all about work, you, and Winston. You’re the only men I need in my life.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said, his rumbly voice softer than normal. “Take a look outside.”
He gestured to the double doors that led out to the community gardens.
“Why?”
“Because I said so,” Poppy huffed at me. “Now, get out there!”
I let out a sigh as I prepared for whatever unwanted surprise was waiting for me just beyond the doors. I pushed through them and froze once I was outside.
There were hydrangeas everywhere, in every color. The gardens were stunning on their own but someone had turned the space into a wonderland, with the flowers blooming in every crevice. And then, a billion string lights flipped on and lit the space, making it look even more magical.
“But …” I glanced around then back to the door to discover that Poppy hadn’t followed me out.
I talked myself out of getting my hopes up about what it meant, even as my favorite Scarlet Rush song started playing from hidden speakers.
It couldn’t be him. Drew didn’t do things like this.
No, it had to be someone at the facility who decided to show off their green thumb. Maybe a local garden center had donated the display. Or a flower-loving resident had passed on and left the funds to create a memorial garden.
Because there was no way it could be …
“Emilia.”
I swirled around to find Drew standing behind me, holding a potted white hydrangea. My breath left my body at the raw emotion on his face. I could see everything written there.
Tension. Worry. Hope.
This wasn’t business-Drew in a suit who could handle anything and anyone. He’d shown up in the amazingly soft t-shirt and sweats he wore when we lounged at home.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
It was a stupid question, because by the looks of it he was trying to make my dreams come true. But I couldn’t allow myself to believe it until I heard what he had to say.
Drew placed the plant on a rock wall and strode closer to me, stopping a few feet away.
“I wanted to prove to you that I listened to what you’ve been telling me. Because even though this might look like me trying to impress you,” he gestured around the garden, “it’s more than that. I’m trying to show you that I heard what you were saying, and I understand now. I get it.”