She couldn’t afford this place anymore even if it wasn’t going to end up demolished. She’d known that the moment she’d stepped off the bus to go to Mel’s party. Still, it hurt to leave her small haven. It hurt more that everyone was so excited to leave theirs, too, and she was baffled by the very notion.
Rick placed his good hand on her shoulder, the warmth of it, the compassion of his light squeeze before he let go, making her choke up. “I know this is hard, Poppy. If you want, I’ll come back and help you pack up your things personally. You can spend some time here, and we’ll figure the rest out. I promise. I made it right for everyone else, I will for you, too.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, pal. You forget you only have one working hand?” she joked, shrugging off his touch as she headed for her bathroom to gather toiletries. She didn’t want pity or a free ride or anything she didn’t earn.
But it was decent enough of him to offer. It was a side to him she rather liked. She knew it was genuine. She felt the truth of his sincerity to her core.
When she reached the bathroom, Poppy closed the door, leaning back against it and closing her eyes. The sounds from the street below, the scent of her favorite perfumes and soaps surrounding her, all played a part in reminding her everything was about to change. Reaching for a towel, she inhaled a shaky breath and willed herself not to cry.
Something was very wrong here. Very, very wrong.
“We have matching hands, amigo,” Rick said on a laugh as Carl, Nina’s zombie, held up his wrist to show off the blue metallic duct tape keeping his index finger in place.
“Know how he got that?” Nina asked, though it was obvious she was using this moment to teach Carl something.
“How?” Rick asked. “Bet it was fighting off some evil foe.”
Carl snorted.
But Nina gave him a stern look and shook her head in the negative. “Climbing a damn tree. I’ve only told him eleventy-bazillion times he’s breakable, but he’s all about reading Robin Hood these days. So Errol Flynn decides to climb our oak tree in the backyard last week, and now look. All hacked up again.”
Rick’s laughter rang out. “What’s next, buddy? Robbing the rich to give to the poor?”
While Poppy was absorbing this not only new, much lighter attitude of Rick’s, but also the fact that there was a zombie, gentle as a lamb, in the middle of Rick’s kitchen, everyone milled about.
Nina had arranged for a man named Archibald to bring Carl to her while her daughter, Charlie, went on a father/daughter trip with her husband Greg.
And the awe and wonder Carl had brought with him, the complete sincerity in his crooked smile and kind eyes, floored Poppy. She loved him almost on sight.
What floored her more? How gentle Rick was with Carl. He’d made it a point to be sure he was comfortable as they’d commiserated over their war wounds. He’d listened patiently as Carl—who, according to Nina, was slowly learning to speak sentences—told him about the book he was reading.
The Three Musketeers—which Rick wholeheartedly supported, as a fan of Alexandre Dumas himself. While they chatted, Carl stroked Calamity’s back and listened closely to Rick’s words.
And for the moment, everyone was getting along, and it was all peachy keen. But the unsettling noise in her stomach, the buzz in her head, wouldn’t let her leave this thing about her apartment and the flagrant acquiescence of the seniors to vacate alone.
She needed time to sort this out. Time to reflect on Arnie’s almost rehearsed words. She wanted to talk to all of her neighbors, see if they really felt the way Arnie did.
Sure, free cable was a great thing, but to leave the home you’ve loved for forty years because of it was a stretch for Poppy.
Rick’s front door opened and a very blond, startlingly handsome man, in a dark gray suit with a multi-colored tie, poked his head around the door and called in a very proper British accent, “Rickster?”
Rick’s head popped up, and he hitched his jaw. “C’mon in, bro,” he called, waving this new person inside.
Instinctively, she knew who he was. An immediate warmth flooded Poppy, straight to her bones. This was Rick’s friend Avis, his partner. The man he trusted enough to own a business together. His affection for this man skittered across Poppy’s heart.
But was that instinct? Did it really take a genius to figure out the man was Avis? Was the feeling she had really Rick’s? After all, Rick had said he had a meeting with him here today.
But she wasn’t sure that was how she’d identified him. It had more to do with a strong wave of emotion. An emotion tied to the word friendship. The word popped into her head as though she’d seen it written on a chalkboard. It rooted around in her heart, making her grip the counter as Avis strolled in, a smile on his handsome face, a face as light as Rick’s was dark.