Yup. She was going to be sick. “Doesn’t matter. He’s a liar and I don’t date liars.”
Once upon a time, her entire world had been shredded to pieces by lies and speculation. She refused to allow that to happen again.
Kiki placed her hand over Poppy’s in gentle support. “Not all men are like your dad. Unicorns do exist.”
“Maybe. But I seem to attract the donkeys of the world, which is why I am recommitting myself to a dick-free diet. Plus, I can’t be distracted right now. I need to put all my focus into making Auntie’s house the best it can be. I’ve never had a project this large and important. Just the scale of historical significance is overwhelming. I need to get this right.”
So much was riding on this. Not just maintaining the integrity of such a significant landmark while bringing it up to date, but securing her aunt’s financial future. At the same time, Poppy couldn’t ignore that this was her one shot at making it in the big time. If she could pull off this reno, she could possibly hit her million subscribers—and maybe even land her own show on the Home and Hearth Network.
Sometimes it felt like just yesterday when Poppy met Kiki,but it had been eight years ago when they were both freshmen at UCLA. Poppy was there to learn. Kiki was there for the male-to-female ratio. They’d been paired up for a project, and between Kiki’s audio-visual skills and Poppy’s restoration and storytelling, they’d nailed the assignment. Kiki posted the video on YouTube and it reached a million views overnight and their little company was born.
They were a testament to opposites attract. Where Poppy was organized, tidy, and a homebody, Kiki was severely allergic to structure, thrived on spontaneity, and had founded the Chicks Before Pricks Biker Gang—a group that had nothing to do with motorcycles and everything to do with monthly, girls-only meetups at various biker bars. Yet somehow, they were the perfect match.
Kiki was Poppy’s platonic soulmate.
“So the kitchen wall goes?” Kiki asked excitedly, looking at the blueprints.
“That’s the first thing to come down.”
Kiki laughed. “Figured as much. What are you going to do with the kitchen?”
“I’m going to keep the layout, but strip the cabinets to the original mahogany finish, since someone decided split-pea-soup green was an appropriate color for a kitchen. Then I’ll add a modern but period-inspired island with seating that will make this family friendly.”
Kiki placed a hand over Poppy’s. “How are you handling all this?”
“Good. I mean, the layout is complete. I’m trying to find the right balance between honoring the old and modernizing for this century.”
Kiki sent her a hard look. “You know what I mean.”
“I wanted to buy this house someday,” Poppy whispered, hating how her voice cracked at the end.
“I know, Pops.”
“Not like I’d ever be able to afford it, but it was still a dream. Now that dream is officially dead.”
For some reason it hurt more than it should. It was like losing her childhood all over again. In six weeks, Stark House would belong to someone else. Whenever Poppy took the time to imagine her future life, she always saw herself in Stark House.
She looked over at the two-by-four endcap to the cabinets that her mom had pulled from their old house and nailed here. Lines marked Poppy’s height at every birthday from age one to eighteen. Even after her mom passed, Opal had kept up the tradition. That board was the last thing she had with her mom’s handwriting on it—one of the last physical reminders of what she’d had and lost—the dream of what her relationship with her mom could have grown into.
She needed to remember to flag it as a keeper before demo started.
“Have you talked to Dr. Schmidt?” Kiki asked.
Poppy nodded. She’d reached out to her grief counselor as soon as she accepted Aunt Opal’s proposal to renovate the house. A knot of emotion clogged her throat, making it difficult to speak. “She thinks I’m transposing losing the house with losing my mom.” First to alcoholism and finally to drunk driving. “It’s like the two are connected, and I can’t seem to untangle them no matter how hard I try.”
“That sounds pretty normal to me.”
“At least this time I get to say goodbye,” Poppy said, her throat closing on the last word.
“Goodbyes are important.”
Poppy nodded even though she wasn’t sure she believed it. Losing her mom had ripped her in two. But at least it had been instantaneous. Losing this house, and essentially every happy memory in her life, would drag out for weeks on end. She wasn’t sure which was worse.
A loud drilling sounded behind them. “I thought demo didn’t start until Tuesday.”
“Me, too.”
Poppy dropped what she was doing and shot to her feet. It took less than thirty seconds to find a dark-haired young guy on a ladder, drilling a camera into the ceiling. Intoherceiling!
