8. Zinnia #2
Poppy glances at the baby monitor on her chest. “I could stay for a couple minutes.”
“Excellent.” Gran steps aside, ushering us into the foyer. “I’ll pour some iced tea.”
I set my bag down. “Let me help, Gran.”
She shoots me one of her looks that says she doesn’t want me hovering, and I lift my hands in surrender.
As she disappears into the kitchen, I lead the others through to the living room, motioning for them to take a seat.
Poppy and Iris settle into two wing-backed armchairs, and Violet practically falls onto the sofa beside me, making an awful “Oof” sound as she does.
Poppy glances at the door to Gran’s kitchen, where she’s bustling about on the other side, then leans closer, lowering her voice. “I’ve been a little worried about Sylvia lately.”
“Really?” I ask, thinking back over the past week. “She seems fine. Better than fine.”
“Right…” Poppy chews her bottom lip. “Well, you know her better than me. I don’t want to stick my nose in, but I noticed a few little things that made me pause.”
I frown. “Like what?”
“You know, mixing up days of the week. Leaving her front door open. Forgetting her keys.”
My mind flashes to that bunch of tulips in murky water on the hall table. After a week Gran still hadn’t noticed them, and I ended up throwing them in the trash this morning.
But that’s nothing, right?
“Wyatt and I are more than happy to help,” Poppy says quickly, touching my knee. “We keep a spare set of keys at our place, and he makes sure to check that Sylvia has locked the front door before we go to bed. He also comes over to tidy her yard once a month.”
I lift a hand to my chest, touched. I don’t even know these people, and they’re going out of their way to look after Gran.
“But I thought maybe her family should know,” Poppy adds.
“Well, thanks,” I say at last. “I haven’t seen anything like that, but I’ll keep an eye out.”
Gran enters with a tray of drinks, and I almost rise to help her, then remember that look she gave me. How can Poppy be worried when Gran is more independent than I’ve ever seen her?
“Thanks, Mrs. Sinclair,” Iris says, taking a drink from the tray. Gran shoots her the same look she shot me, and Iris laughs. “Sylvia,” she corrects.
I hand a drink to Violet, who’s making no attempt to reach for one, likely because she seems to have finally found a comfortable position.
“Thanks,” she says, giving me a grateful look. She strokes a hand absently over her belly as she drinks deeply.
“How are you feeling, dear?” Gran asks her. “You’re absolutely glowing.”
Violet snorts a laugh. “I’m perspiring. I’m not sure that’s the same thing.” Laughter echoes around the room, and Violet sighs. “Can I be honest with you all?”
“I’d be offended if you weren’t,” Gran says, and the others laugh again.
“I feel like shit.” She glances at Gran, as if wanting to apologize for cursing, but struggling to muster the energy.
Gran waves her away. “I can’t sleep,” Violet continues miserably.
“My ankles are twice their normal size, and Kyle still won’t keep his hands off me.
” She glances at Gran in apology again, and Gran laughs.
“You’re allowed to struggle, my dear. Society teaches women they have to love being pregnant, love being mothers, but not everyone does.”
Violet glances at Poppy, who blushes. “Sorry,” she says, sheepish.
“Why are you sorry?” I ask.
Poppy lifts a shoulder. “I loved being pregnant, and even though I’m exhausted, I adore baby Rose. Wyatt has never been happier.”
Iris lifts her brows. “Does he get up in the night with her?”
“Always,” Poppy says. “I have to tell him to go back to bed. I’m the one with the breast milk.” She sighs, smiling. “He’s an even better father than I could have imagined. I can’t wait to have more babies.”
Violet snorts bitterly into her iced tea, then grimaces. “Dammit,” she mutters under her breath, glancing up. “Sylvia, could I possibly use your bathroom? This baby thinks my bladder is a trampoline.”
“Of course,” Gran says, motioning along the hall. “Take your time.”
Iris springs to her feet, holding her hands out to help haul Violet off the sofa, and we all watch as Violet waddles slowly from the room.
“I feel for her,” Iris murmurs, settling back into her seat. “I bet she misses our girls’ nights at Marco’s.”
“I know it’s not the same, but maybe we could throw her a baby shower?” Poppy suggests.
Iris scrunches her nose. “Are you sure she wants one?”
“No,” Poppy concedes, “but we could make it good. No silly baby games. Make it more about celebrating Vi. We could serve virgin cocktails, have a masseuse who gives foot rubs. That sort of thing.”
“But where would we do it?” Iris asks. “My place is too small.”
“My place is out,” Poppy adds, cringing. “I’m determined to get Rose’s sleep back on schedule. We could ask Daisy and Wes—”
“Do it here,” Gran offers, and the others glance at her. “I have this big house. It would be lovely to have you young ladies here for an afternoon.”
“That’s so nice,” Poppy says, taken aback. “Are you sure?”
“Definitely. It’s the least I can do since you won’t let me pay you for the cupcakes.” Gran gives her a pointed look, then her gaze slides to me. “Zin will help us, won’t you?”
I hesitate, taking a long sip of iced tea. A few minutes ago I’d considered packing my bags, and now they’re asking me to organize a baby shower? As lovely as these women are, I’m not sure I want to get involved. Not after what happened with Nick today.
Not when I’m already feeling that familiar itch to move on.
But before I can answer, a cry comes from Poppy’s baby monitor.
“Crap.” She rises to her feet. “I have to go.”
“Me too,” Violet says wearily as she shuffles back into the room. “I need to lie down.”
Iris stands, smiling. “Thanks for the tea, Sylvia. And we’ll take you up on your offer, if that’s okay.”
“Fabulous,” Gran says, clasping her hands.
“It was so great to meet you, Zinnia.” Poppy smiles widely at me. “We’ll pop by again soon?”
“Sounds good,” I reply, watching them leave.
But I’m not sure if I’ll be here when they do.