Poppy’s presence fills this empty house. I suddenly want nothing more than to stand here watching them paint in this patch of sunlight.
Which is why I turn and walk away.
* * *
Poppy
Five days later,I’m prepping for my workshop at Miracle on Main Street. I have a group of ten kids signed up for my painting and craft session, but my heart’s not in it.
I had to say goodbye to kindergartners today. Their regular teacher’s maternity leave ended, and she returned to the classroom. My heart is full from the hugs and handmade gifts they gave me, but it was still difficult to leave them.
Sadie pokes her head into the room. “How was your last day?” she asks.
I try to smile. “Hard. It always is. So I got treats to cheer me up. You’re lucky I like to share.” I hand her a small paper bag.
“Pumpkin spice muffins. You know they’re my drug of choice.” Sadie gives me a big hug. “For the muffin. And because I know today was a tough one.”
Tears pool in my eyes. I hug her back. “Don’t make me cry. The kids and parents will be here in fifteen minutes.”
When we break apart, I wipe at my eyes and give a watery laugh. “Sorry, I’m a hopeless crier. Sad commercials. Cute animal videos. Greeting cards. Hugs.”
She smiles at me. “I know. And I also know how attached you get to your students.”
I put paint on each palette. “Yes, and also, while I was still substituting, I didn’t have to make any decisions about the future. Now, I need to decide whether I’m going to take the fourth-grade job in January. Maybe I should have looked harder for an art position, even if it meant moving.”
“Or you can call the real estate agent about the building next door, maybe talk to the bank.”
I pull out sponges and line them up.
“I’m still thinking about it,” I say. “You look great, by the way. I love your outfit. Do you have a hot date tonight?” Sadie is wearing a short blue-and-black plaid skirt and a black sweater with a white Peter Pan collar. Her blue curls matches the blue of the skirt. She looks adorable.
She blushes. “I do. With Lonely Book Boy.”
I gasp. “No way! Tell me everything. How did this happen?” Sadie always stops at the bookshop down the block after she closes up on Friday nights. She picks out a book to read over the weekend. And she often runs into someone we call Lonely Book Boy, who also is there on a Friday night. In a town where we know pretty much everyone, coming across a mysterious guy is a surprise.
“Last week, I got up the nerve to talk to him. I asked for his number.”
“This is amazing.”
She tilts her head. “I think I might really like him. He’s funny and cute. We both likeStar WarsandDr. Who. I’ve had far worse potential for a first date.”
“Well, you look gorgeous. He won’t be able to resist you.” I walk around to the tables and put the paint palettes, sponges, and paper at each table.
“I’ll let you get finished before the heathens descend,” Sadie says, walking swiftly toward the door. Kids wielding paintbrushes strikes fear in her heart.
“Hi! You can go in,” I hear Sadie say a few seconds later from the hallway. I look at my watch. Someone is early. Hopefully, it’s one of the better-behaved children I can put to work.
“Poppy!” Belle bounces into the room, looking cute in a pink dress and tights. Ronan must be off his hairstyling game. Her high ponytail is bunched up and crooked. I wouldn’t think twice about the style on any other child, but I know that doing her hair is their thing, even if Ronan would rather eat nails than have that widely circulated.
“Hi, cutie! What’s up?” I ask. We have a lesson scheduled again at her house for Sunday, so I hadn’t thought I’d see her back here again. Ronan wanted to avoid causing a scene.
“I can join your lesson today. If you have room for me.”
“Oh, where’s your dad?” I look around, my heart racing at the thought of seeing him again.
A tall woman about my age with long blond hair and perfect features strolls in after Belle.
“He’s shooting. Tiffany is with me.” Belle imbues all her disdain into that sentence. Tiffany doesn’t look like any nanny I’ve ever seen—in leather pants and stilettos, typing into her phone. I’d introduce myself, but she hasn’t bothered to look up.
