Stone headed out.
“POPPY, WHAT ARE YOU doing here?”
The bungalow was filled with the scents of onion, grease, and comfort. She laughed at the doggy attack of squirming fur and crazy tongues, then dropped to the floor in surrender while she hugged her fur babies. The stress of the day eased from her shoulders. Dorothy was so right. There was nothing quite like home.
Her grandfather walked over, spatula in hand, and shook his head. “You got your hands full with these monkeys, honey,” he said. “Decided to walk them and surprise you with dinner. Unfortunately, I think Mike got hungry early and raided the kitchen. The garbage was torn up and scattered everywhere.”
Arilyn groaned. “I thought I locked it up! I was running late and forgot. I need to get one of those big cans with the lid. Hey, how’d you know it was Mike?”
“Because Lenny was already chewing on your sneaker.”
Great. She always shut the closet, but Lenny had become smart enough to use his paw to drag it open to find the treasure. Damn, she’d loved those new Skechers. She wagged her finger at both puppies. “You two are in big trouble. No Frosty Paws ice cream tonight.”
Lenny scampered up her legs and licked her ear in a sloppy apology. She giggled and scooped him back to the floor. “Sorry you had to clean up, Poppy.” She rose to her feet and gave him a hug. The familiar scents of Irish Spring soap and Old Spice surrounded her. After her parents passed, Poppy had become her rock. The only stability left in her life, he gave her structure, shelter, and love. He made her laugh with his wild streak, penchant for fun and gambling, and advice to live large or go home trying. So like her mother, until cancer had eaten everything decent and good within and spat it back out.
He was dressed in his usual uniform of brown pants, white shirt, and sturdy leather shoes polished to perfection. The black tattoos of the memories of his fallen comrades in Vietnam climbed down each arm. A cross and a name. Eight of them. She used to sit in his lap and study the tats for hours, fascinated by the detail and boldness. Though painful for him, he used to tell the story of the war to keep the memory alive. So no military member or person fighting for his or her country would ever be forgotten again.
He lived in a cozy brick house filled with interesting antiques, old movie posters, and an attic bursting with trunks full of old clothes and photos. She’d get lost up there for hours when she needed a connection with her parents, poring over her family heritage ripped away from her too soon. Poppy was tough and smart. He aged with a grizzly endurance that taught her to appreciate life in all forms and stages, good and bad, old and new, giving her hope that each morning would bring a surprise. He’d owned a small auto repair station for years, content to spend his days under the hood, where the memories of war and what he’d left behind faded under the turn of a greasy wrench. He’d taught her a bit about cars and how to take care of herself. Arilyn used a lot of his techniques and turned it toward computers. In some ways, mechanics were the same: there was a larger picture where everything finally fit. The journey was half the fun.
He’d been a handsome man, with piercing green eyes and a full head of silver hair that competed with thirty-year-olds’. Sure, his face reflected a map of deep wrinkles, his teeth were no longer his own, and his hands had been gnarled by a touch of arthritis, but Poppy was still her rock.
When they diagnosed him with type 2 diabetes, she realized he couldn’t be alone any longer. He needed to be monitored, and living two hours away wouldn’t work. He was the one who agreed to give up his house and move closer to her. The Best Friends Center in Verily was the perfect fit. The center boasted a lively crowd, with bus trips, group activities, and a certain amount of independence. Besides spending more time with him, he’d be able to keep up his social calendar.
Unfortunately, he was having a hard time fitting in.
“Hey, it’s Tuesday night. Why aren’t you at bingo?”
Those bright green eyes shimmered with outrage. “They won’t let us gamble. Tried to get a pool going, and Elmer Fudd ratted me out. What good is a game if you can’t bet money?”
“Who’s Elmer Fudd?”
“You know that fat guy with the bald head and pudgy cheeks? I always think he’s gonna tell me he’s been hunting wabbits.”
Arilyn pressed her lips together. “It’s not nice to call people fat, Poppy.”
“Everything’s so PC nowadays.”
“How about trying to concentrate on the thrill of winning without money?”
“Boring. Bingo is lame anyway. Hey, is there a way to hook up an iPod in my room? If I have to listen to Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra play on the speakers for one more minute, I’m gonna puke.”
This time she did laugh. “I can’t trust you with an iPod. We’ve already gone through three cell phones before I cut you off.”
He shot her an innocent look. “How was I supposed to know the HOTGIRLS party line cost a dollar a minute?”
“You’re incorrigible. What are we having?”
“I made a stew. Potatoes, onions, and the veggies you love. Mine has meat, yours doesn’t.”
“Hmm, smells delicious.” She lifted the Crock-Pot lid and took a sniff. “Did you go to the organic butcher shop for the meat? They’re grass fed and use humane techniques with their animals.”
“Yes, honey. But I think if you took half the amount of effort to find men as you do food, you’d be married already.” The touch of sympathy on his face made her squirm. She’d done a complete turnaround of her life after her mother died. Death suddenly became real, and Arilyn decided not to become a drain on the world with a large carbon print and nothing to show. Dedicating herself to finding true inner peace and quality health, she sought a path her Poppy never understood but had learned to accept. He didn’t know about her latest breakup with her lover, because he’d never met him or heard her speak of him. No wonder he was worried. Probably thought she hadn’t dated in years.