“I’m sorry. I know how much you love this home,” Aunt Opal said softly.
“No, this isn’t about me,” she said, reminding herself that she wasn’t the only one who would have a hard time saying goodbye. “Where are you going to live? In one of those over-sixty-five communities?” She snorted at the idea. But when Auntie didn’t snort back, she sobered quickly. “You can’t be serious?”
The look on her face said she was as serious as a life sentence.
Opal squared her shoulders. “They’re called retirement resorts now, and yes.”
Poppy was completely stunned. “They bedazzle for fun, have puzzle clubs, and socialize exclusively with the over-sixty set.”
Opal smiled. “I know.”
“You hate people over sixty.”
“But I love sex. And do you know how much hanky-panky is happening in that place? It’s like the ’60s all over again.”
“Gross.” Poppy covered her ears like her hands could blockout the words it was too late to unhear. “There are dating apps for that.”
“I have exhausted all my potential matches.”
“You’re Opal Hart, world famous matchmaker to the stars! You’re responsible for over a thousand marriages. I’d think Cupid owes you one.”
“You know it doesn’t work that way. Like a psychic, I can’t read my own destiny.”
Apparently, she couldn’t read Poppy’s either. With over thirty Opal-approved blind dates under her belt, Poppy hadn’t been able to find a single, solid match. Not even a Mr. Right Now match.
Cupid had it out for the Hart women. If Poppy needed proof of that fact—which she didn’t—she only had to recall her horrendous date from last week.
How had she been duped?Again? Poppy had been told her date would be wearing a faded blue ball cap and there was only one of those in the bar.Him!
“It’s time for a new dating pool, my dear. Sunny Hills Retirement Community is just the fix I need in my life. Plus, it’s the perfect landing place for a traveling diva.”
Poppy looked around the house she’d spent the most memorable years of her childhood in and felt her gut churn painfully. “What will happen to this place? You know a developer will come in here, demolish it for the land and build a McMansion, ignoring all the history as if it was nothing.”
“First off, no one in their right mind would tear down a historically relevant house in this area. As for keeping the history, that’s where you come in.”
Poppy got a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was once again being sucked into one of Aunt Opal’s schemes. “The last time you said that, I ended up on a date with a womanizer.”
“He’s a fixer-upper. Big difference. Isn’t that yoursuperpower? To take something others would deem unworthy and make it shine?”
“That man is un-fixable. So, that’s a hard pass.”
“You’ve never passed on something that has a good story and great bones.”
“His bones might be great, but his story is a little too chaotic for my quiet life.”
“Well, your life is about to get a little bit louder.”
“What does that mean?”
“I want you to renovate Stark House and bring it back to its original rendering.”
Her heart leapt at the sheer possibility of polishing what was already a historically relevant piece of Hollywood history.
“You can’t afford to renovate this house,” Poppy said.
With the way her aunt burned through money, Opal could barely make her monthly utility payments. When her husband died, all she walked away with was the house and a mortgage. It took her thirty years to pay off the house. Why would she want to sell it now when it was all paid for?
“Now I can.”
