“It isn’t all lost,” Decker said softly. He addressed the crew. “Put all the pieces in that box and I’ll see what I can do. We can’t lose the history.”
Then to make things worse, she noticed the white molding from around the pantry door was missing. The molding that marked every birthday and every inch Poppy had grown.
“Where’s the trim from around the pantry door?” she asked, her voice caught with emotion.
Her eyes frantically ricocheted around the floor. All she could see was piles of debris and splintered wood. The last piece of her mom in the house was gone.
“Probably in the pile over there,” Clive said gently, pointing to a mound of wood on the other side of the kitchen that looked more like kindling than boards.
Poppy raced over and dropped to her knees, then started sifting through the pile. A strong hand settled on her shoulder and the next thing she knew Decker was by her side. “What are we looking for?”
“My growth chart,” she said, as if that were reason enough to send her into an emotional spiral.
He didn’t make a snarky comment or say another word. He just started digging. “Come on, guys, let’s find that board.”
Poppy watched as every crew member dropped their hammers and started going through the stack of debris. Then the room went silent and even before she looked up, she knew it was going to be devastating.
“I’m so sorry,” Kiki said, holding up the last piece of Poppy’s mom left in the house, that was splintered right down the middle. She might have had a tumultuous relationship with her mom, but it was still her mom. And this reminded her of the times before the depression and the drinking and thecrash. A time with both of her parents. When they were a happy unit.
Poppy rose to her feet and walked silently over to her friend, whose face was soft with sympathy. She took the board and held it to her chest. She knew everyone was watching, that the cameras were rolling, but she couldn’t keep the emotion at bay.
“I’m so sorry,” Clive whispered and placed a supportive hand on Poppy’s shoulder. “Maybe we can fix it.”
Poppy let go of the bottom half and it swung as if only held together by a toothpick. “I think it’s too late for that.”
Decker tucked a stray hair behind her ear in a gesture that was as sweet as it was touching. “I can fix this.”
“But it’s hanging on by a splinter.”
“Barely hanging on is my specialty,” he said. He held his hand out and gently took the board like it was a precious gem. It might not be a diamond, but to her it was worth so much more.
“If you can’t fix it, that’s okay. It’s just a piece of wood,” she lied, and he must have seen right through it.
“I’ll fix it. Trust me,” he said.
Poppy didn’t do well with trust and men. But just this once she wanted to believe that a man would come through on his word.
“Now, where’s the painter’s tape so we can get to marking what stays, what goes, and what is to be repurposed,” he said gently. “In fact, why don’t we take a break, so you don’t feel rushed. I don’t want another mistake to happen.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“No need to thank me. I should have waited until you got here, but Jack said he wanted to get rolling.”
“I understand.”
“That doesn’t mean that the damage doesn’t hurt. And I’m sorry I was a part of that.” There was something so genuine,regret maybe, that rounded out his words. It made the pang of loss lighten.
“I know what will make you smile,” Kiki said, pointing to the eyesore of a pony wall that had been the bane of Poppy’s existence ever since her grandma had it installed.
“The wall,” they said in unison and both laughed. Although her laugh started out as a partial sob, it ended with her feeling better.
“Be my guest,” Poppy said and ushered Kiki to go at it.
Kiki took a large step and then, like an F1 car, was off like the last red light was illuminated and then went black. Within the blink of an eye she was busting through one side of the wall and out the other, crashing to the floor with grace and ease. She looked up with a big grin. “What’s next, boss lady?”
“To be safe, next time why don’t we check for studs before we plow through walls.”
DIARY ROOM:
