by Lee Hollis
Matt bolted forward, still flapping his arms as if he couldn’t believe the pilot had spotted them. Poppy followed as fast as she could in her weakened state.
She saw Roy Heller jump out of the helicopter followed by Iris and Violet. Matt gratefully pumped Roy’s hand as Iris and Violet joyfully raced over to Poppy, pulling her into a group hug as Poppy sobbed, so grateful to have made it out of this ordeal alive.
Finally, they broke apart.
“We were out for a joyride and saw your dressing-room trailer on its side from way up in the air, and thought you had been killed in a terrible accident. We were so panicked. Roy landed the helicopter, and that’s when we found Timothy barely conscious, and surmised what had happened,” Iris explained.
“Oh, Poppy, we were so worried!” Violet cried. “But Roy was confident all along that we would find you.”
Roy pushed past them and enveloped Poppy in an unexpected hug. “Actually I had my brave face on. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little concerned. I’m happy to see you alive, gorgeous.” He reached in to kiss her. Poppy instinctively turned her head and his lips landed squarely on her cheek.
Iris’s face blanched, but she remained uncharacteristically quiet.
Roy stepped back. “Sorry, too forward?”
Poppy nodded with an apologetic smile.
“She’s got a fella waiting for her at home,” Matt said.
“I see,” Roy said. “Well, let’s not keep him waiting.”
He gently put an arm around Poppy and escorted her back toward the helicopter with Matt leading the way and Iris and Violet falling in behind them.
“Is he better-looking than me?” Roy joked.
“I’m not answering that,” Poppy sighed.
Then Roy got serious. “Do you love him?”
Poppy thought about it.
“Yes, yes I do.”
It was the first time she had admitted it out loud to anyone, and it felt good.
It felt right.
Chapter 52
As Poppy stood at the island of her new kitchen tossing a salad in a large glass bowl with her tongs, she felt a pair of hands sliding around her waist, gently pulling her back into a strong chest as a face began nuzzling her neck.
“I can feel your heart beating,” Poppy said, setting down the tongs. “So I guess it must be working again.”
Sam spun her around and kissed her on the lips.
She could smell a hint of garlic.
“You snuck a piece of garlic bread while I was getting dressed, didn’t you?”
Sam shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not admitting to anything.”
He cupped a hand around her neck and drew her closer, kissing her again, this time more passionately.
She stepped away, putting a hand up to stop the foreplay before it got too out of hand. “We have guests arriving any minute now.”
“I know. I saw the table set for four. What a shame. I’m only here one more night so I was hoping we might enjoy a romantic dinner for two,” Sam whined.
“There will be plenty of time for those later. According to your doctor, you’ll be kicking around a while longer.”
“Yeah, but after such a major event like a heart attack, aren’t I supposed to be living my best life every day, or something like that?”
“You are. You’re helping me entertain some friends. That’s your best life, at least for tonight.”
Sam chuckled. Poppy opened the oven to check on her eggplant parmesan bubbling in a glass casserole dish, then she shut the door and went to open a bottle of Pinot Noir to let it breathe.
“The best part of my time here is finally getting out of that sad, lonely guest room and into the main bedroom last night. It’s done wonders for my recovery.”
“Yes, well, you can just keep that little detail to yourself when our guests arrive,” Poppy warned.
“I’m going to miss seeing your beautiful face every day. It’s going to be hard going back to the way things were, you here in Palm Springs, me up in Big Bear.”
Poppy began piling the garlic bread into a basket. “We’ll adjust, we have before.”
“But things won’t be the same . . .” Sam’s voice trailed off as he seemed to become melancholy.
Poppy stopped what she was doing. “What do you mean?”
Sam shrugged. “This thing, the heart thing, well, it’s changed me. How could it not? The guy I used to be . . .”
“You mean the big, strong, stoic cowboy who taught me how to fire a gun in his backyard? That was an image, Sam, your image, that you’ve projected to the world for as long as I’ve known you. But that’s not the Sam Emerson I know, the one who cries at all those YouTube videos where soldiers come home from overseas and surprise their kids at school, or when police officers and firefighters stand outside a hospital applauding the health-care workers who worked so hard and were so overwhelmed during the pandemic, the one who was man enough to know he needed help after a traumatic health scare. I never wanted Sam Emerson, Marlboro Man. No, this Sam, the Sam right here, is the man I’ve fallen in . . .” She abruptly stopped herself. She could see Sam’s eyes widening in surprise and anticipation. It was too late now. She had admitted it out loud already to a stranger she hardly knew, she might as well say it outright to the man in question. “. . . fallen in love with.”
Sam kissed her again. “I love you, too.”
Now that they had both finally said it out loud, Poppy felt an enormous release of pressure. There would be no more guessing. Sam was going to be around for a while. She had to admit to herself that she was going to miss seeing him in her house every day. After the dramatic events that had unfolded during the previous month and their aftermath, time just flew by. Poppy had been caring for Sam for over three weeks now, and he was finally well enough to go home and look after himself. But nothing is permanent and Poppy suspected that maybe, just maybe, Sam might be back in her new house sometime in the foreseeable future. Except the next time, strong and healthy and able to change a burned-out bulb in the carriage light above her garage door. Not that she saw the man that she loved as a glorified handyman, but it certainly didn’t hurt.
The highly publicized arrest of Hal Greenwood and his copycat son Timothy was still raging like a California wildfire through news cycles and social media and their trials were not even scheduled to begin for at least a year. Poppy tried ignoring all the hysteria and hoopla but couldn’t avoid the onslaught of press announcements heralding the exploitation of the Pillow Talk Killer. Already a TV movie called Like Father, Like Son was in development at Lifetime. Donald Carter’s wife, Rosemarie, Danika’s stalker, Byron Savage, and Hal’s longtime personal assistant had all scored major book deals for big bucks. As for Poppy’s comeback role in Palm Springs Weekend, Netflix was taking full advantage of the film’s sudden notoriety with a major fall rollout with millions in ads and promotion. Poppy just held her breath, mentally preparing for the onslaught to come, hoping to keep as low a profile as possible until all the intense interest mercifully subsided.
Unfortunately for Joselyn, the actress who had resumed the leading role following Danika’s murder, her rising star was already sputtering out. Word came from the editing room that she was a decidedly lackluster presence, failing to match the charismatic heights of her predecessor, the far more talented Danika Delgado. According to the director Trent Dodsworth-Jones, who gave an interview in Entertainment Weekly about the upcoming film, the true star to watch was the previously unknown Matt Flowers, Trent’s new discovery and muse who he promised had delivered a star-making performance. True to form, at least on the outside Matt shrugged off the accolades, claiming it was just engineered publicity for the movie. But Poppy could tell that on the inside he was bouncing off the walls like an excited kid on Christmas morning. Although Matt continued assuring Poppy that he was loyal to the Desert Flowers Detective Agency, Poppy knew it was easy for him to say that with the film still on the horizon. What Matt’s future held beyond the film’s
release, well, only time would tell.
The doorbell rang.
Sam sighed, frustrated. “All right, you win, let’s play host and hostess. Is it Iris and this new fella she can’t stop talking about?”
“Roy Heller, speaking of macho hero types,” Poppy laughed. “No, Iris is still working on that particular project.”
“Then who is it?”
Poppy smiled knowingly and walked out of the kitchen, Sam following her. She went to the front door and swung it open. Violet and Phil McKellan stood there, Phil clutching a bottle of red wine, which he handed to Poppy.
“Thank you, come in,” Poppy said, stepping aside and ushering them into the foyer. “Sam, you know Violet, and this is Phil McKellan.”
“Pleasure,” Sam said, extending a hand.
“Nice to meet you, Sam,” Phil said, smiling.
Violet appeared as if she was ready to burst with joy.
It had been a long time since she had dated a man.
And after an admittedly rough start with Phil, Violet had done a lot of soul searching, and with Poppy and Iris’s urging, she had decided to give the guy a second chance.
It was a smart decision.
The two looked blissfully happy together and a perfect fit.
“Make yourselves at home. What can I get you to drink, Phil?” Poppy asked.
“Glass of red wine would be nice, whatever’s open,” he said.
“Me too,” Violet piped in.
As Poppy headed for the kitchen, she heard Sam ask, “So, how did you two meet?”
Poppy smiled to herself.
It was going to be an interesting night.