I smile.
“Poppy.” Sadie interrupts the scene, and I’m glad to focus on someone I like better than my ex.
“Sadie! Thanks so much for helping to arrange this. I know everyone is busy so close to Christmas. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course, hon. We all love you. Everyone was happy to return the favor. But your sister just called me. She said she couldn’t reach you. She’s in town to see your studio, but she needs a ride from the inn, where she’s staying.”
“Rose is in town?” I turn to my mom. “Did you know Rose was here?”
“That’s right! I was supposed to give her a ride. Oops. With all the excitement, I guess I forgot. And you know us, we always leave our phones at home.”
“You never leave your phone at home,” I say.
She shrugs.
“We’re all kind of busy, dear. Do you think you could give your sister a ride?”
“But…” I wave my hands. “All these people are here for me. For my painting party. How can I leave?”
“How can you not, darling? It’s your twin sister. Don’t be so selfish. I’m busy painting, and your dad is taping.”
My dad grabs the tape back and starts fiddling with it.
This is one of those times I should probably say no.I must not people-please,I tell myself.
“Poppy,” Sadie says.
“Yes.”
“Go to Holly Hill Inn. She’s in Room 509.”
There’s something about the way she says it. And the way my parents are staring at me, that I decide I need to go to the inn. If nothing else than to figure out whatever it is they aren’t telling me.
“Fine, I’m going. But not because I’m people-pleasing.”
“Good girl,” my dad says.
“Oh, darling,” my mom calls to my departing back.
“What?” I say in exasperation.
“You might want to brush your hair. And put on some lipstick.”
* * *
I hitthe elevator button at the inn several times. And a memory comes back to me.
“That won’t make the elevator come any faster,”Ronan said that night.
I close my eyes, and I try to recall everything about the night I met Ronan Masters.
I open my eyes at the moment the elevator arrives.
And I must be hallucinating because inside is the man I was imagining.
He’s even larger than I remembered. His wide chest and shoulders stretch the seams of a navy sweater. Jeans encase those long legs. Days of wheat-gold stubble pepper his strong jaw. And his crystal blue eyes pin me with intense regard.
Did I dream so hard that I conjured him? Sort of like a manifestation, which is all the rage. Maybe it’s all the rage because it works.
