Wrapped Up In A Weeping Willow

by Tonya Kappes

  The banging was louder.

  “What?” Poppy flung open the door.

  “Hells bells, if it ain’t Poppy Bailey.” Troy Simpson stood on the other side of the door with his mouth gaping open. “You were the last person I ever thought I’d see.”

  “Glad to see you too, Troy.” Poppy held the door open for him to come on in. “How’d you know she was here?”

  “I got on that iCloud and tracked her phone.” He raised his arm and scratched his head. “Them phones are the damnedest thing. I didn’t want to do it, but when she didn’t come meet your mama and me at the house last night…” He shook his head.

  “What house?” Elizabeth strolled down the hall with a cup of coffee in each hand.

  Troy let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Elizabeth.

  “I know you don’t wunt to live in my house, so I had Mary Louise looking around for something perfect.” Troy stepped toward Elizabeth. “I was hoping to surprise you. But I guess it’s you who surprised me, Elizabeth Shannon Parker.” He picked up the jar. “I’m guessing you girls tied one on last night.”

  Elizabeth waved her hand toward Poppy and Troy. “I ran down to the Foodtown and picked up a few breakfast items because you didn’t have nothing in the icebox but some Greek yogurt and a squirrel food called granola.” Elizabeth’s lips curled. She leaned over and kissed Troy on the cheek. “You’re right, sugar. Lily and Poppy surprised me because Poppy came to town for an impromptu bridal shower. Ain’t that right?” Elizabeth looked at Poppy, slowly nodding her head.

  Poppy played along and nodded back; sliding her head toward Troy, she smiled.

  “Did you say you made breakfast?” Poppy had to get something in her stomach to soak up the shine or she wouldn’t be any count today. She had things to do.

  Top of the list was to go see the Coach.

  “I’m shocked you are staying here,” Troy said. He followed behind Elizabeth, with Poppy following behind them.

  “Why?” Poppy laughed, as if anyone would’ve thought different from Troy.

  “This looks great, baby.” Troy patted Elizabeth on the butt when she walked by. His eyes surveyed the kitchen table, where Elizabeth had all the food on display. “I can’t wait until I wake up to a home-cooked breakfast every morning, just like Mama used to do.”

  Elizabeth sucked in an audible breath and pulled her shoulders back. She glared Troy’s way.

  “What were you saying about me coming to the farm?” Poppy quickly changed the subject back to her. She didn’t want any engagement ending anywhere near her. She could hear the gossip now.

  “I mean since it sold and all.” Troy stuck a piece of bacon in his mouth, elbows on the table, and chewed.

  “Sold?” Poppy asked, thinking Troy had to be mistaken.

  “There y’all are.” Lily Jane walked into the kitchen with a big yawn and her arms outstretched. She grabbed a biscuit and took a big bite. “I’m going to be late for rounds. I’ve got to go.”

  “Troy, you grab some food and stick it in this paper towel.” Elizabeth ripped a couple of sheets off the roll sitting in the center of the table and handed it to him. “We have to go. I want to hear all about these new houses.” Elizabeth grabbed one of the Tupperware bowls from the cabinet and started shoveling the breakfast food in it.

  “But I want to know what he’s talking about.” Poppy’s jaw hung to the ground. This was news to her and he had to be wrong. There was no way her mama or the Coach would ever sell the farm.

  “You better go see your mama like your Aunt Pris told you to,” Elizabeth warned and shoved Troy out the screen door in front of her. “I’m telling you right, Poppy.” Elizabeth’s finger shook at Poppy. “Go see your mama.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “It’s about time you got yourself in here to see us.” Mary Louise Bailey stood behind the fake plywood desk with the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. The cord was outstretched and pulled as tight as bark on a tree. “We could use a little help here, Poppy.”

  “The last time I checked, it said Hudson Hollow Realty with your and daddy’s name on it, not mine,” Poppy grumbled under her voice.

  Looking at her mama was like looking in a mirror, only Mary Louise’s hair was a tad bit longer and there were a few more wrinkles around her eyes.

  “Don’t be sassing your mama.” Mary Louise pushed a stack of files on the desk toward her. Poppy noticed age spots on her mama’s hands that she’d never seen before. “All these clients need to be confirmed for the fall season. And ask if they are going to be huntin’, because we need a copy of their license. We’re as busy as a beaver cutting down an oak tree and you are just standing around anyway. I’m on hold with the nursing home about your papaw.”

  “That is exactly why I’m here. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “He’s fine.” She poo-pooed the air. “Yes, this is Mary Louise.” Her mama looked up at her and nodded her head, giving Poppy the go-on-and-do-what-I-said look.

  “Mama, what is going on with the farm?” Poppy reluctantly took the files and moved them to the other desk, with a nameplate that read Louetta Faulkner.

  Her mama kept talking on the phone and shooed Poppy away. “I’m sorry. My daughter is in town and she seems to have lost her manners along her travels.”

  Her mama was always apologizing for something or another Poppy did that displeased her.

  Poppy didn’t bother listening in after that. There wasn’t a point. Her mama was going to have it her way and no other. It was always the way it was before she left, and she could tell it had remained that way while she was away.

  She did what her mother told her to do and opened up the first file. She ran her finger down the page until she found the client’s phone number. She picked up the receiver and punched in the numbers.

  “Hello, is Mr. Chetal there?” Poppy asked, surprised at how her voice changed back to the one she used on the radio. It was strange hearing it. “Hi, this is Poppy Bailey from Hudson Hollow Realty and Rentals. We wanted to make sure you had all you needed to make sure your stay here in Hudson Hollow Lake is enjoyable.” Poppy listened to the man ramble on about how excited he and his family were. “Thank you so much; we look forward to your stay.”

  Poppy looked over; her mother was still on the phone with the nursing home, so she grabbed the next file and then the next and the next until she was finished.

  “Are you still on the phone?” Poppy asked her mother thirty minutes later.

  “Are you done with that stack?” her mother asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m done.” Her mother hung up the phone.

  “I’ll be; you snookered me.” This wasn’t the first time her mama had told her to do something and it had better be done before she got off the phone, but Poppy had thought those days were over.

  Her mother leaned back in her desk chair, threw her head back, and cackled.

  “I thought all them big-city smarts would’ve helped you, but I guess they haven’t. Now that the ice is broken,” her mom clapped her hands together before she opened them wide up, “you better get over here and give your mama a hug. And a big one!”

  It wasn’t a hug to brag about, but it was a start. Poppy had fond memories of her mama and her life as a child. It was her mama’s own doing for Poppy’s dream of leaving Hudson Hollow because it was her mama who’d introduced the world beyond the edge of the lake to her.

  It hadn’t happened until her mama and daddy had taken her to Cincinnati, Ohio, during Christmas to see the holiday trains at Union Terminal. As her daddy drove their big, long Lincoln down 7th and Race Streets in Downtown Cincinnati, Poppy had planted her face against the cold passenger window looking at the Shillito’s Department Store windows.

  It was the prettiest thing she had ever seen, the window displays that faced the sidewalks that skirted the stores. As adults huddled shoulder to shoulder to view the displays, children’s noses were pressed up against the glass to get a glimps
e of what was inside.

  “Pull over, Daddy!” a young Poppy screeched from the backseat. “I’ve got to pee!”

  It was the magic word for her daddy to stop. If she’d said she wanted to see what the other children were looking at, he probably would’ve told her a tall tale and gone on.

  Her daddy jerked the car over and she jumped out, running back toward the crowd. Even at that age, she was independent. She wiggled her way up to the front glass with all the other children. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The fanciful holiday scenes played out in front of her. There was an elf display that ranged from lively animatronic elves reading and organizing letters to Santa, painting or building toys, or loading Santa’s sleigh.

  Any minute she knew her daddy would be dragging her, kicking and screaming, back to the car, so she rushed to count as many of the magical Santa’s helpers as she could, as if she wanted to tattoo the memory forever.

  She only got to the count of thirty-two when she felt the large hand squeeze her shoulder. She turned to look but saw the children putting their own Christmas letters to Santa in the large red mailbox that really caught her eye.

  “Oh, Daddy,” young Poppy cried. “I have to write a letter to Santa.”

  Her daddy smiled and took her back to the car, where he let her write a letter to Santa on a napkin. “A napkin is paper,” he told her when she protested that the other children had letter paper. “Plus, yours will stand out to Santa because it’s not like everyone else’s.” That made her happy, and she’d never forgotten what she wrote.

  “Dear Santa, please take me out of Hudson Hollow and let me live in a big city, but please keep my weeping willow and Papaw safe. Love, Poppy Bailey, who lives far away in Hudson Hollow, Kentucky.”

  “Now then.” Mama pulled Poppy an arm’s length away, bringing Poppy out of her childhood memory, something being back in Hudson Hollow was happening to her often. “We need to talk about your papaw and his farm.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Poppy asked. “You know I would have come if I’d known.”

  “We did. We called Rob and he said he’d let you know.”

  A war of emotions raged through Poppy. “You did?”

  Her mama nodded her head. “Yep. A few times. And we even told him about the farm. We figured you’d want to buy it, but when you didn’t return my umpteen phone calls, well, we figured. . .” Her mama’s voice trailed off.

  “Sell the farm?” Poppy was sick with the struggle within her. On one hand, she didn’t want to believe that the man she’d loved and married had kept her family from her when she so desperately wanted them to accept her, and on the other, she couldn’t believe her mama would even consider selling the farm. “So Troy Simpson was telling the truth?”

  “Um-hmm.” Her mama nodded again. “Went up for auction to the highest bidder last week. Your daddy and I couldn’t bear to go, so we don’t know who bought it. But I heard it went for a hefty price and we’ll have more than enough to pay off your papaw’s medical bills and then some for him to live comfortably. We have a meeting to sign off on all the paperwork on Saturday. Everything we want has to be out by next Monday.”

  “Oh my God! I want it all!” Poppy couldn’t think straight. All she knew was that she was going to have to go to the courthouse to get the paperwork and find out who bought the farm, in hopes the ink hadn’t dried.

  “Honey, we don’t have a choice.” Her mama had tears in her eyes. “Your papaw is not well. He cannot live on his own anymore and needs twenty-four-hour care. Selling the farm is our only option.”

  “Saturday. Out by Monday?” Her mind was such a mess that she didn’t even know what day it was. Her mind reeled with confusion and she wasn’t really listening to her mama’s reasoning. “What day is it?”

  “Wednesday,” her mama said.

  “Wednesday, Thursday, Friday.” Poppy counted the days on her hand. “I’ve got four days.” She smacked her hands together and took off toward the door.

  “I’m expecting you at Wednesday night spaghetti supper at church, Rai-ney Roo-se Bai-ley.” Her mama meant business when she called out all three names and enunciated each syllable.

  “What?” Poppy spat and turned around.

  “You heard me.” Her mama wasn’t going to say it again. She expected it and Poppy had better do it. “Because you and the Coach were so dead set on eating at Trudy’s yesterday morning after he drove all that way to get you, you can go by and get him to bring him too. Tell him Trudy’s cooking the spaghetti and you won’t have no trouble getting him there.”

  It was just like her mama to know exactly what the Coach had done.

  “What? Surprised I figured it out?” Her mama picked up a file and pretended to thumb through it. “Your mama ain’t as dumb as you think. When I saw your face pop up on that TMZ tabloid show, I knew if he saw it he’d be right after you. Then I got the phone call from Lily Jane that he was gone.” Her mama looked at her. “I’m smarter than your old bear, Poppy Rose. You remember that.” She tapped her temple and shoo’ed Poppy out. “Go on. I’ve got work to do. And I expect you back here in the morning to help out. Because you ain’t got nothing better to do.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Poppy wasn’t sure what or who she was most mad about. The fact that her parents had sold the farm or the realization and gut feeling that Rob was behind all the mail issues with her papaw and family.

  “Son of a bitch,” she muttered and stomped down Main Street in the opposite direction from her mama and daddy’s realty store toward the courthouse. I swear I’m going to make him pay. She vowed then and there, right in front of Martin’s Department Store, that burning down the Ellington mansion was nothing compared to what she was going to do when she saw him again.

  She groaned inwardly when she saw Martin’s window display had the mannequins wearing a pair of Crocs. Yep, Martin’s was still the same. A couple of shops down, she stopped in front of Hudson Hollow’s radio station, HH FM, and read the NOW HIRING sign.

  “Well if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes.” Bunny Brewster stood in all her bleached blond glory with her purple eye shadow, red lipstick, and a lot more wrinkles since the last time Poppy had seen her. “Poppy Rose Bailey has come home.” She put her hands to her large chest before throwing them open, inviting Poppy to come on in for the hug. “Honey, I listened to you every night until you took your little leave a few days ago.” Bunny winked. “I couldn’t help but giggle when you talked about that jockey riding your man, though she wasn’t a real jockey.” This time Bunny was a little more theatrical, with the lip curl and all.

  “Ms. Brewster.” Poppy dreaded the hugs her mama had made her do, but she did them anyway.

  Before her family would go to a function around town, her mama told her, “Now you be sure to say ‘yes, ma’am’ and ‘no, sir,’ and be sure to hug everyone you know. And don’t forget to smile. You are too pretty to have a sullen face, you hear?”

  “How the hell are you, child?” Bunny held Poppy out in front of her. “I mean really?”

  “I’m doing all right,” Poppy lied.

  “Honey, when are you going to be back on the air?” Bunny planted her hands on her hips and swayed to the right.

  “Depends.” Poppy pointed to the window with the NOW HIRING sign. The very place Bunny did her nightly broadcast.

  “Oh, honey.” Bunny turned around and glanced at the window before returning her gaze back to Poppy. “You are too big to stay in little ole Hudson Hollow and do a broadcast. And we’d never be able to pay you but pennies.”

  “Pennies sounds like a far wage.” Poppy leaned in. “I’ve missed the good old days.”

  “But you know and I know that the Baptist will run you out of town if you carry on with all that sex talk and lubricating this, that, and the other.”

  Bunny was right. Every single God-fearing person in Hudson Hollow would burn her at the stake if she talked openly about sex.

  “God forbid we discuss what the B
ible says.” Poppy laughed. “They make it sound like I’m telling everyone to go around and fornicate with everybody when I’m just trying to keep the relationship—the monogamous relationship—between a man and a woman healthy.”

  “Honey, I used that dripping chocolate technique on Chester once and it was not healthy. Nearly gave him a heart attack.” Bunny opened the big gold pocketbook strapped on her shoulder and pulled out a travel-size bottle of hand lotion. She squeezed a big dollop into her palm and offered Poppy some. Poppy shook her head. “You know how embarrassed we were having to tell the churchwomen who came all the way to the Baptist Hospital in Lexington to see him that he didn’t have a heart attack but a case of anxiety. We didn’t tell them why, but we are still tithing more than we should.”

  “Why, Bunny Brewster!” Poppy’s mouth flew open. “When did you start going to church?” She was more shocked that Bunny had stepped foot in a church than that she’d made Chester Castle a hot fudge sundae out of dripping chocolate.

  “Honey, that’s just it.” She threw her head back and laughed. Her eyes went wide with innocence. “I don’t.”

  Poppy couldn’t help but laugh along with Bunny. She was still as funny and eccentric as Poppy remembered. Poppy was near tears, laughing so hard.

  “But me and old Chester,” Bunny put her hands back on her hips and studied Poppy intently, “we live in sin, and that just ain’t good for the churchgoing people around here either.”

  Poppy shrugged. “I don’t care about all that. As long as you’re happy, and you do look happy.”

  “Say.” She tapped Poppy on the arm. “How is your mama and them? Lawdy, I bet they were fit to be tied when they saw you. I know I sure was. Just as pretty as always, and you always had the best manners.”

  “Thank you.” Poppy kept it at that. She didn’t want Bunny going down to the Hair Depot and twisting a tale tighter than they twisted hair down there. “Does Chester Castle still do all the hiring?”