Poppy wasn’t a guest. “She’s in her room?” He nodded once. “Thank you.”
Tiller was on the phone before Poppy even left the room. Voices traveled from the gallery, which no doubt belonged to some members of her family. Poppy wasn’t interested in talking to the owners of those voices, so she vaulted up the stairs to hurry to her grandmother’s bedroom. Since being a little girl, it was one of her favorite places in the house. No matter what, she was welcome there, safe… happy.
Standing at the door, Poppy sent out a silent plea that it would offer the same security as it once had.
Pasting a smile on her face, she went into the bright room. Sun streamed through the windows, the ocean gleamed under the glorious rays.
Her grandmother leaped up out of one of the wingback chairs in the window. Casting a book aside, she opened her arms.
“Oh, my girl,” Marigold called out, circling her hands to gesture her over. “Come over here. Come. Come.”
Just like always, her grandmother was happy to see her. Going into her arms, Poppy was so pleased to accept her embrace. Her grandmother would always want her.
Taking her shoulders, Marigold parted their upper bodies to look back toward the door. She waited for a second then looked to Poppy and back at the door.
“Where is he?”
For a second, Poppy thought her grandmother had seen right through her. “He?”
“My ring,” she said, showing her hand. “Where’s the man worthy of giving it to you?”
“There’s no man, Grammie.”
Marigold frowned. “Then why are you here? I told you to come back when you’d found him.”
“You had a heart attack,” Poppy said, trying to change the subject. “You knew exactly where I was, why didn’t you call?”
“Because you were supposed to be falling in love,” Marigold said. “You need to get back out there and find him.”
Her grandmother gave her a push, but she just sighed. “It’s over.”
“Over?”
“My life out there is done.”
“No,” Grammie asserted. “You’re going back out there and—”
“I can’t.”
Marigold definitely wasn’t impressed. “My Tater-Tot doesn’t give up! The girl I raised—”
“Holden put a bounty on me,” she said because it was true, though it was only half the story. “Ten million, he put out a press release.”
As her grandmother absorbed that, a frown formed on her face. “That little rat.” Poppy agreed. “He forced you back.”
“What other choice did I have? I couldn’t stay out there with the world chasing me. I didn’t hide my face and it was at the top of the story.”
“Oh, that weasel, I’m so sorry,” Marigold said, taking her into another hug.
They just held each other without saying anything for a while and it was exactly what she needed.
“Thank you,” Poppy said, beginning to feel like her head wasn’t spinning anymore.
“We’ll keep him away from you. Bar him from the estate,” Marigold said. “He’ll get the message.”
“I want to hit him in the face.”
“He didn’t get the message the last time you did that.”
Sighing, Poppy left the hug. “You saw that?”
Tucking her hair behind her granddaughter’s ear, Marigold admired her dress. “The footage might have done the rounds,” she said, wearing a proud smile. “Looks like that dress had a good time… Do you have stories?”
“I need to breathe for a while, Grammie. Life out there… I don’t even know if I understand what happened.”
Marigold’s smile turned saucy. “He must’ve been a stud.”
“Grammie!” Poppy chastised, fighting to keep the color from her cheeks. “There is no stud.”
Linking their arms, Grammie drew them toward the door. “Don’t you lie to me. You’re a mirror, Tot. One woman in love recognizes another.”
They went down the stairs together and out to the back terrace. Walking the grounds was one of their favorite things to do. Being in the sea air, breathing in the cleansing aroma, Grammie always said it freed their honesty.
“Did you hit your head when you had your heart attack?” Poppy asked.
“No, though your mother would like to think I did.”
“Primrose told me about your plan to sell up and move on… Is that real or were you just bored?”
Marigold shrugged. “Maybe a little of both.”
“I don’t want it,” Poppy said. “You told Dad that you’d sign it over to me. I don’t want it.”
“And if I sell it all?”
“Then sell it all,” Poppy said, tightening her hold on her grandmother’s arm. “Are you allowed to be out here like this? Tiller said you’ve been staying in your room.”
“There’s been no reason to come out. Your parents and sisters pled their