first talked to her grandmother about applying for jobs, she’d been shocked that her Grammie told her not to use her real name. Marigold even had a fake social security number for her. At first, she assumed it was to protect her from her own family tracking her down. The more she thought about it, the more she realized it was about the media.
The wedding not going ahead had been national news. Not huge, massive, top of the headlines news. There was enough going on in the world to distract most people from something as insignificant as a wedding not happening. But Grammie told her the blogs were still featuring stories, some of the celeb sites too. So while no one was beating down her door, if she made it too easy for them, some blogger or low-level reporter might show up.
If someone Googled her real name. Yeah, that would definitely lead to the story.
“I’m not rude,” the guy said, still fixated on her. “I mean, I’m not normally rude… so forgive me, I… I’ve just never known Turner to hide mistresses in empty apartments before.”
“She’s not my mistress.”
“Sure, she’s Charley’s project,” the friend said on a shrug that suggested he wasn’t playing along. “You said that.”
“I don’t think I’m anyone’s project.”
“Sure, honey, that’s why you’re holed up in a place that has no running water.”
“It has running water,” Turner said, the first to defend his property.
“Tub’s not coming ‘til next week. Where’s she showering? Your place?”
“If she was showering at my place, why would she come up here for an outlet?”
The friend made a face. “Oh, uh, I don’t know, maybe ‘cause there’s a chance of Faye walking in on her any second.”
“Okay,” Turner said, taking control. He grabbed her shoulders and hurried her into the apartment. “There’s a power strip in the second bedroom, use it and lock the damn door whenever you’re naked.”
Before she could say a word, he disappeared into the hallway, slamming the door on her. So he was gone? Mad and gone with the friend who now knew she was there. And Faye? Who was Faye? Poppy was learning more about Turner, but she wasn’t sure she was really getting more answers.
FIVE
Turner wasn’t in her apartment when she got home that night. Poppy didn’t see him the following morning either. Progress was being made in the refurbishment, so she could tell he’d been there upon returning after work to find the place empty again.
Baseboards, window and door frames seemed to be his focus. There were wires sticking out of the various holes, so she guessed he was doing something with the electrics too.
She’d gone so far as to change into her nightshirt and was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room with her bottle of wine and the salad she’d saved from lunch. In the past, Poppy hadn’t spent much time thinking about food. Dinner at home was almost compulsory. Excuses needed to be given early and apologies sincere if someone wasn’t going to attend.
Poppy had taken it for granted. She showed up, sat down, and someone put food in front of her. It was crazy. People needed to plan meals. Think about what ingredients they needed to put a dinner together and cook it. Like actually use pots and pans and a stove. They had to go to the market to buy groceries. None of those things featured in her past. Exhaling a laugh, she tipped her head back and lowered a wilted rocket leaf into her mouth.
And food was expensive too. She’d lost count of the number of times in her life she went into a coffee shop, ordered, and swiped her card without even noticing the amount. She’d done it in clothes stores too. Things like cosmetics and toiletries just showed up when she told one of the staff something was needed.
Staff. What a ridiculous notion.
Swallowing the leaf, she laughed, and took a swig from her wine bottle. The knock on her front door was unexpected. Charley hadn’t been at work since the day she’d given Poppy the address for the apartment building. Their supervisor had said she’d be out until the following shift.
That didn’t mean her colleague wouldn’t visit.
Getting to her feet, she licked her fingers clean as she turned the key in the lock and opened the door. Charley wasn’t the person waiting on the other side.
Turner stood there. A clear two feet away from the threshold. Her greeting died on her lips, so she sealed them