He’d been straight up about our short-term arrangement. I didn’t expect him to expend effort to introduce me to his parents. But being kicked out of the house he begged me to move into… How dumb and stupid can you be?
I drove straight to the conservation center and parked by the old lighthouse. The original lighthouse had been decommissioned and torn down ages ago. The concrete base and pilings were all that remained. A cute family claimed a nearby picnic table, and I watched them, happily eating away. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Of course they did. That’s what dumb, stupid girls do. Cry.
The ivy over the archway beside Mike’s Ice swayed in the breeze. The conservation center lay just past the arch. I breathed in and out, trying to pull it together so I could hold my head high when I shared my humiliation. Luna can’t make it better. Why interrupt her day? None of this is unexpected. I swiped the tears and let the beach breeze dry the remnants.
I’m not the same girl from Louisiana. I won’t rationalize this. And I will be okay.
A young guy waved from the Mike’s Ice takeout window. I waved back then whipped the cart around the old lighthouse foundation, determined. I had things to do, and crying over a guy wasn’t on the list.
“Hey, I got the loan.”
Suzette paused from cleaning the dog’s water dish she kept out front of her restaurant and beamed up at me.
“High five, girl!” She held her arm up and our palms slapped. “Way to go. The first success of many. Matt said he should have initial architectural drawings for us to review this morning. You have time now to swing by his office?”
“You bet.”
A surge of energy filtered through the tips of my fingers, along the edges of my wrists and through my core, down to the tips of my toes. Sure, the love portion of my life sucked. But the work portion of my life rocked brighter than ever. And, really, my love section always sucked. If there was a way to just chop that section off, then I’d do it in a bloated heartbeat.
Suzette, Mr. Baird, and I hovered around a conference table, reviewing large blueprint drawings. To me, the light blue lines on the whisper thin paper represented boxes. With a little imagination, I could envision rooms, doorways, and windows. Suzette asked questions about handicap accessibility and meeting code. She paid a lot of attention to the bathrooms.
The three of us left Mr. Baird’s office and visited the site. We walked around the wooded area and discussed parking and outdoor seating. Mr. Baird, well, Matt, asked about electrical needs. I asked about the raised deck and viewing options.
After about an hour, he unrolled the blueprints we’d been studying earlier in his office. He took out a pen and handed it to me. I held his pen in my hand, confused.
“It’s the first round of changes. Initial your agreement.” The side of my hand touched the paper, ready to initial away. But then it hit me that this right here was my business. I read through every single change, double-checking the instructions and asking questions. Only once I understood it all did I initial.
Suzette patted me on my back. I felt all right. Not great, not lighter. The deep hole Gabe carved in my chest that morning still hemorrhaged. But moving forward staunched the bleeding.
Growing up, when one of my mom’s relationships crumbled, so did she. And it seemed, at least to me, she grew more desperate for a relationship. And it was like the men she dated sensed her desperation. I always told people she’d been married five times, but I hadn’t seen the marriage certificates.
Strength came from having your own thing. I wished my mom had discovered that at some point along the line. If something went wrong with a relationship, a person could be fine as long as other components of life were in order. I found myself smiling, thinking about the book I could write. Life According to Poppy. Screw the book—I’ll post about it.
On my way home, I stopped by the post office. The island’s post office featured a nice wrap-around wooden porch. Along one side of the building, under the protection of overhead eves, a bulletin board protected by glass hung. People placed all kinds of announcements on it. Lost cats, a hardware store sale, babysitting services for hire, those kinds of things. On a whim, I perused the board for rental notices. Most of the real estate listings were on the Realtors’ websites, but I figured you never knew what you might find. Like Mrs. Rittenhouse, sometimes people liked to avoid Realtor fees.
“Hello, Ms. Poppy. How’re you doing?” Alice, the older woman Luna had introduced me to ages ago, gripped the railing as she ascended the two steps to the deck. She made her way beside me, glancing between the board and me.
“Very good. How’re you?”
“All is good. I hear you’re opening your own restaurant.”
“I am.” I smiled wide, stretching my cheek muscles.
“I love seeing the young year-rounders make their way here. You let me know if you need anything, hear me?”
“Thanks, Alice. How’re those cats of yours?” The woman had a million cats. She boiled eggs and crumbled them up on the ground for them. All through her yard, cats milled around.
“They’re doing good. Do you want one? Milly is expecting a litter any day now.”
“No, thanks. I need a cat like I need a hole in the head,” I mumbled. One more expense, one more responsibility. No, thank you.
I continued reading through the jumbled ads. She remained at my side. I tried to ignore her, but from my peripheral vision I could see her, and she wasn’t looking at the board. She watched me.
Feeling her gaze, I gave up reading the listings and asked, “Yes?”
“What’re you looking for?”
“My lease is
