On a Friday evening, Rowan unlocked the door to Poppy’s apartment and dropped the keys back in her pocket. “Here we are,” she announced.
“I can’t wait to see all my toys again!” Skylar exclaimed, pushing around Rowan to run inside.
Rowan exchanged a smile with Aster, Corinne, and Natasha, who were standing behind her. Corinne adjusted her grip on Briony, who was sucking madly on a pacifier, and gazed into the foyer. “Well? I guess we should all go in.”
They filed in one by one. The living room was dark, the curtains drawn. There were slipcovers on the couches, the rugs still had vacuum lines across them, and all the kids’ toys had been packed away, though Skylar was doing a good job of pulling everything out and flinging it around. Skylar and Briony had been staying with his parents while James was on a two-week business trip. While he was gone, he’d asked Rowan and the cousins to go through Poppy’s clothes, jewelry, and other items, to decide which items to keep for the girls and which to auction off for charity.
“Let’s get started,” Rowan said briskly, turning toward Poppy’s bedroom with a dart of apprehension. She didn’t want to think about James sleeping there with women who weren’t Poppy.
Yet when she swept into the room, she felt . . . nothing. No twinge of wanting James back. No memories of him flashing into her mind. The only thing she did think of was a time when she and Poppy had hung out here by themselves after Skylar was born, when James had to go on a work trip. They’d piled on the bed, tiny Skylar in Poppy’s arms, and watched Food Network programs for hours. Rowan got Poppy everything she needed and took Skylar when Poppy wanted to nap, gazing at Skylar’s perfect lips, her smooth skin, her placid expression. At one point, she’d looked up and found Poppy staring at her. “You’ll make a good mom, Ro,” Poppy said.
And Rowan would make a good mother—someday, one way or another. And as for life beyond James, she was optimistic about that too. An old friend from law school named Oliver had called her several days ago, and they’d talked for almost an hour. Rowan remembered how cute he’d been; he’d asked her out a few times back then, but she’d always turned him down. She’d had eyes only for James.
But that was then. She and Oliver had made plans to go to wd?50 tomorrow night. For the first time in, well, a long time, she was actually excited about it.
The cousins pulled open Poppy’s closet, and the overhead lights flickered on. Poppy’s clothes hung in neat, organized rows. Her shoes were lined up on shelves on the ground, and she had special drawers for belts, small handbags, jewelry, hats, and other accessories. At the back of the closet were the gowns she wore to special events, the bright colors and shimmering fabrics like a line of rings in a jewelry box.
Skylar ran into the room too, and oohed softly. “I love Mommy’s closet,” she said in a polite, reverent voice.
“Don’t touch anything, okay?” Corinne advised.
“Oh, I know.” Skylar’s eyes shone. “A good girl always asks before touching.”
Rowan hid a smile. In the months since Poppy’s death, Skylar had become serious, mannered, and almost . . . wise. It was as though she understood that someday the Saybrook mantle would be passed to her, and she’d best prepare now.
Rowan put her hand on Skylar’s shoulder, feeling sorry for the little girl. She still couldn’t fathom the idea of not having a mother during her childhood. But though James hadn’t been a great husband, as far as Rowan could tell, he was a good father.
Natasha stepped forward, touching the front of a shoe box. Her breathing was labored. She’d only been released two days ago, but she’d insisted on coming to help. “Are you okay?”
Natasha nodded. “I will be.” She smiled at Rowan and squeezed her hand.
Then the doorbell rang. Everyone looked at one another, but then a light came on in Aster’s eyes, and she ran for it. Seconds later Danielle Gilchrist appeared in the closet doorway. Her red hair hung down her shoulders, and she wore an expertly tailored white shirt, pencil-straight black pants, and expensive-looking black leather booties. There was something classic about the outfit, Rowan thought; it was both unassuming and luxurious.
It was, she realized, exactly the way a Manhattan heiress might dress. After all, Danielle was in training too.
“Are you sure it’s all right that I’m here?” Danielle said, gazing nervously around.
“Of course,” Aster said eagerly, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the vast closet. “We were just going through some stuff. Come help.”
They began to sift through the dresses. “Remember this?” Corinne asked, holding up a feathered and beaded Chanel gown Poppy had worn to a Metropolitan Opera costume benefit a few years ago.
Aster snatched it. “Ooh, do you think she’d mind if I kept that?”
Corinne gave her a look. “Where would you wear that?”