Kissing Cousins

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “I can’t stand that girl myself,” Mr. Dexter said. “I think Swaggart only started dating her because she was so obsessively insistent.” He smiled at Poppy and said, “You and I both know she’s not the girl for him.”

  “Agreed,” Poppy said. “But anyway…that’s how my day has started.”

  “Are you getting tired of working here, Poppy?” he asked.

  A sort of panic gurgled in Poppy’s stomach. Was Mr. Dexter thinking of letting her go?

  “No! Not at all, Mr. Dexter,” she assured him. “You know how much I appreciate you giving me this opportunity. I love working here—I love being here!”

  “What do you love about it?” he asked.

  “Well…well…everything, I guess,” Poppy said.

  “Give me some examples,” Mr. Dexter said.

  Poppy shrugged and said, “I love the smell of the food, the sounds of people eating and being happy together. I love the music and the other employees. And I love the atmosphere—it’s like all the good things about the past still live here, and when you’re sick of the world and all its baggage…Good Ol’ Days gives you a reprieve. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I do,” Mr. Dexter said, still smiling.

  “I guess that’s why the rotten customers upset me so much,” Poppy added, “They try to taint a good thing, and it sort of hurts me somehow.”

  Mr. Dexter chuckled, his mouth and eyes still smiling.

  “But what about your future, Poppy?” he asked. “Or are you planning on being a waitress forever—even after you finish college next fall?”

  Anxiety—thick and unpleasant anxiety washed over Poppy again. She didn’t want to think about leaving Good Ol’ Days. Two more semesters and she would be finished—have her degree. But part of her didn’t even want it. Most of her wanted only to waitress at Good Ol’ Days for as long as she could.

  “Are you…are you needing to cut back on employees, Mr. Dexter?” she asked. Her heart was hammering with anxiety and anticipation of what his answer might be. Maybe her time at Good Ol’ Days was at an end after all—even without Miss Susan Reginald’s help.

  “Oh, no, no, no!” Mr. Dexter chuckled. “I just wanted to know what your thoughts were. You know you have a job here for as long as we can keep you, Poppy.”

  Poppy exhaled the breath she’d been holding and smiled. “I-I thought you were prepping me to be let go.”

  Mr. Dexter chuckled again. “Oh goodness, no!” he said. “I just want to be sure you’re living your life, Poppy—not just lingering. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I think so,” Poppy said.

  “The rotten customer is gone, the sun is shining, and Swaggart and Bobby are cooking up some fine food inside,” Mr. Dexter said. He patted the back of Poppy’s hand where it lay on the table. “It’s a new minute. Anything can happen.”

  Poppy smiled. Mr. Dexter always had a way of making people feel better. Poppy knew his love and joy for life spilled over into his restaurant. That’s why people loved Good Ol’ Days. That’s why reservations were hard to get on Saturday nights.

  “You’re right,” Poppy told him. “And I better get back before Bobby has my head on a platter.”

  Mr. Dexter chuckled and said, “I’d hate to see that. And besides, I’m not sure how good that would be for business.”

  Poppy laughed as she stood. “Thanks, Mr. Dexter. I feel much better.”

  “Good,” he said.

  “Bye-bye,” Poppy said as she headed back to the restaurant.

  The sun was shining! The rotten customer was gone, and Swaggart and Bobby were cooking up some good food inside! Poppy was sure she’d seen the last of Miss Susan Reginald—possibly Jennifer Trujillo too, and as she entered the restaurant to hear Nat King Cole’s version of “Stardust” echoing through the building, she smiled.

  “Runner!” she heard Bobby call from the kitchen.

  She hurried to the kitchen to find four orders on the counter, ready and waiting.

  “Sorry,” she said, just as Swaggart entered the kitchen and stepped up next to Bobby to inspect the order tickets.

  “Run over, and come right back,” Swaggart said. “Things are heating up!”

  “That’s because…” Bobby began.

  “It’s Saturday night!” he and Swaggart shouted simultaneously.

  “You got it,” Poppy said, smiling.

  Swaggart seemed no worse for the wear—as if he’d just had a conversation with his grandpa as well. Yet Poppy knew it was impossible. Something else must’ve lightened his load.

  “You’ve got roses at the hostess podium!” Brittany exclaimed as she skipped up to the order counter.

  “What?” Poppy asked.

  “Three dozen red roses!” Brittany said. “Huge arrangement! Baby’s breath, greens, a big red ribbon, and a card!”

  “You’re kidding,” Poppy said. “Who would be sending me roses?”

  Brittany shrugged. “How am I supposed to know? All I know is the delivery guys said they were ordered by somebody from Heaston Advertising.”

  Poppy gasped as her hand flew to cover her mouth. It couldn’t be! Could it? Quickly she pulled Mark Lawson’s business card from the pocket of her apron.

  “Mark Lawson—Heaston Advertising,” she read in a whisper.

  “The gorgeous guy from last night?” Brittany asked.

  “I’ll be taking that ten bucks back now,” Swaggart said.

  Poppy looked to him to see a mischievous smile on his face.

  “He didn’t ask me for my number last night, and that was our bet. I’m keeping the ten bucks,” Poppy said.

  “Maybe you ought to give the ten bucks to this guy,” Bobby said. “Three dozen roses? That’s gotta cost a wad.”

  “Holy cow, Poppy,” Whitney said as she arrived then, carrying the enormous arrangement of roses. “Where are we going to put these? I need the room up front.”

  Poppy stood with her mouth gaping open in delighted astonishment. She had never, never, never received such an elaborate arrangement—nothing even close.

  “Well?” Brittany said, as Whitney set the arrangement down in the alcove. “Read the card!”

  Poppy’s heartbeat increased as she plucked the card from the plastic card holder amid the arrangement. Surely it couldn’t be from Mark Lawson. Surely!

  “Oh my heck,” Poppy breathed as she read the card.

  “Can you read it to us? Or is it too personal?” Whitney asked.

  Poppy glanced up to see Bobby anxiously waiting for a reading as well. Swaggart simply grinned and mouthed, “I want my ten bucks back.”

  “I-I guess I can read it,” Poppy stammered. She still could not believe Mark Lawson had sent her the roses.

  “Poppy,” she began.

  “Ooooo! That gave me chills!” Bobby said, shivering.

  “Shut up, Bobby,” Brittany said. “Go on, Poppy. He’s just being an idiot.”

  Poppy cleared her throat and read the card aloud. “Poppy, please accept these as a small token of my heartfelt apologies for being the cause of such a miserable experience for you last night. I look forward to making amends as soon as possible. Hoping to Be Yours, Mark Lawson.”

  “Hoping to be yours?” Whitney sighed. “Oh my heck, Poppy! I can’t believe it!”

  Poppy stood reading the card again. She couldn’t believe it either. Mark Lawson, the handsomest customer she had ever waited on, had sent her roses—implied he was going to see her again. It was too good to be true! Wasn’t it?

  She glanced up to see Swaggart smiling at her, his eyes bright with amusement. He was so handsome—so charming—so completely unobtainable! For years she’d dreamed of Swaggart Moretti, and for years she’d reminded herself how entirely out of reach he was. And now—now a handsome, charming man seemed to have taken an interest in her. It was as if a door had opened somehow.

  She thought of Mr. Dexter, of the conversation she’d had with him only minutes before. It’s a new minute. Anything can happen, he�
�d said. Perhaps this was it—perhaps Mark Lawson was the anything that could happen.

  “Girls!” Bobby said, smacking a palm on the order counter. “This food is going to get cold.”

  “Oh, yeah!” Brittany said, picking up two plates and scurrying off. “Sorry.”

  “And look at the line at the front door,” Whitney said. She turned to Poppy and hugged her. “I’m so excited! I knew that guy was meant for you” she said before rushing off to the hostess podium.

  “Still sorry we had to deal with that wench he brought with him?” Swaggart asked as he set two more plates on the order counter.

  “I guess not,” Poppy said. She couldn’t help but smile. There would always be an order counter between her and Swaggart—an order counter or a Jennifer Trujillo. But it seemed there was nothing but roses between her and Mark Lawson.

  Poppy felt her heart flutter a little as she picked up the two plates Swaggart had set on the counter.

  “Thanks, Swaggart,” she said as she hurried off after Brittany.

  Mark Lawson had sent her roses! Not just roses—three dozen roses! Poppy wished Miss Susan Reginald would show up just once more—just long enough to see the roses and read the card accompanying them.

  “Poppy Lawson?” Poppy whispered as she headed for table ten. She smiled to herself as she contemplated the way the name fit together so well. Swaggart Moretti was the crush she’d known all through high school, but she was grown up now—time to get on with being grown up. And what better way than with Mark “gorgeous man” Lawson?

  Swaggart watched the girls scatter to their different tasks. It felt good to be done with Jennifer, and he wondered why he’d waited so long to break up with her. In fact, in those moments, he wondered why he’d even dated her in the first place. He didn’t have one regret about breaking up with her just minutes before—not one. Not one heartache, not one lament. He felt as if some great weight he’d been bearing had just been lifted from his shoulders.

  Yet at the same time, he was more than a little irritated by the three dozen roses sitting in the alcove. Poppy deserved better than some showy rich guy. Certainly she deserved better than a cook at the local family restaurant—a part-time chef with no permanent direction. It had been one reason he’d steered clear of his grandfather’s beautiful little favorite waitress. What did he have to offer her? Nothing. Yet he didn’t like the idea of this advertising guy going for her either.

  “What’s the matter, Swaggart?” Bobby asked. “Jealous?”

  “Of what, Bobby?” Swaggart said, frowning and smiling at the same time.

  “I know you better than you know yourself, cousin,” Bobby chuckled.

  “Maybe you do, and maybe you don’t, cousin,” Swaggart said.

  “Oh, believe me—I do,” Bobby said.

  Swaggart shook his head and chuckled. “You keep telling yourself that.”

  Still, as he looked up to where Poppy and Brittany were serving the foursome at table four, he frowned.

  He better be good to her, he thought. And he better not break her heart.

  He shook his head, trying to concentrate on the crème brûlée he was preparing for table three. He tried to be happy for her—she deserved to be pampered, admired, and adored. Still, the sour sensation in the pit of his stomach lingered long into the evening—long after Poppy and her three dozen roses had gone home.

  As Swaggart sat relaxing at table two, listening to Dean Martin croon “Kiss” while Whitney finished up some paperwork, he silently hoped the smooth advertising guy turned out to be an idiot. Still, as his thoughts lingered on the cute little brunette waitress at Good Ol’ Days, he wondered—was there such a thing in the world as a bigger idiot than he was?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The sun was bright, the sky was clear, and as Poppy pulled into her spot in the Good Ol’ Days parking lot, she smiled. Spring was making way for summer! No doubt Mr. Dexter would open the patio and garden tables any day, and Poppy loved serving in the gardens.

  She locked her car door, dropped her keys in her bag, and headed for the restaurant. She inhaled a deep breath, smiling again as the scent of lilac and hyacinth kissed her senses. Instantly, she thought of the scent of roses still filling Poppy and Whitney’s apartment with their fragrant perfume. She’d spent most of the day before gazing at them in disbelief, reading and rereading the card that had come with them, and smiling with delight. Mark Lawson! It was a dream come true!

  “How’s it going, Whit?” Poppy asked as she entered the restaurant.

  “You’re early,” Whitney greeted. “And it’s a good thing. The lunch rush was crazy today! Uncle Robert even has Josh waiting tables.”

  “Good afternoon, Poppy,” Robert Dexter greeted as he approached. “Glad to see you in a bit early. We had a crazy lunch hour.”

  “That’s what I hear,” Poppy said, returning Uncle Robert’s smile.

  Everyone called Mr. Dexter’s son, Robert, Uncle Robert. He was Bobby’s dad and Whitney and Swaggart’s uncle, so it was just easier for everyone to call him Uncle Robert. It avoided confusion when Mr. Dexter was in as well.

  “I’ll get my apron and jump in,” Poppy said.

  “Thanks,” Uncle Robert said.

  Poppy watched as he went to table two and greeted the couple sitting there.

  “Guess what I found out this morning?” Whitney said then.

  “What?” Poppy asked. Her curiosity was instantly piqued by the way Whitney had lowered her voice and was glancing about to make certain no one was within hearing range.

  “Swaggart finally dumped Jennifer,” Whitney said.

  Poppy felt her eyes widen—felt her heart beat a little faster.

  “Are you serious?” she asked.

  “Totally!” Whitney whispered. “Saturday afternoon, right before your roses came. Remember how Jennifer showed up here?”

  Poppy nodded. How could she forget? Jennifer had been totally ticked off at finding Poppy wrapped in Swaggart’s arms. She gasped slightly, her heart beating even more quickly. Could the incident have had something to do with the breakup?

  “Do you know why he broke up with her?” Poppy asked.

  Whitney shrugged. “No. And who cares? As long as he did it. She was a nightmare!”

  “Wow,” Poppy breathed.

  Whitney raised her eyebrows rather mischievously and said, “So I guess there’s nothing stopping you now.”

  “What do you mean?” Poppy asked, though she had a very good idea what her friend was implying.

  “You know what I mean,” Whitney said. “Wouldn’t now be a good time to—you know—try to wiggle your way into Swaggart’s arms?”

  “Shhh!” Poppy scolded. “Whitney, are you crazy?” Poppy glanced around to ensure no one had heard Whitney’s suggestion.

  “Well, you should at least try to finally check item number one off your list,” Whitney said.

  “Shhh! For Pete’s sake, Whitney!” Poppy whispered. “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve said in a long time! You know I’m totally over Swaggart now.”

  “And on to ‘Mr.-Three-dozen-roses,’ right?” Whitney giggled.

  “I still can’t believe he would send me those,” Poppy said, smiling. She thought of the massive arrangement sitting in the center of the table back at the apartment—that the likes of Mark Lawson would take notice of her—it caused goose bumps to break over her arms.

  “Well, at least he finally dumped her,” Whitney said, as a couple walked through the front doors. She picked up her eraser board and turned to greet them.

  “At least,” Poppy agreed. “See ya later,” she said as she headed for the alcove near the kitchen where the aprons hung.

  The aroma of lime and garlic shrimp filled her lungs, and she smiled as she stood in the alcove adjusting her apron.

  “I’ve been promoted to waiter!” Josh said as he hurried to the kitchen.

  “I know! I heard. Congratulations,” Poppy said, returning his smile.

  Josh pau
sed and looked around before whispering, “Fair warning—Swaggart’s a little uptight today.”

  “Why?” Poppy assumed Swaggart was irritable because of the breakup with Jennifer. But she played dumb just in case Josh didn’t know about it.

  “He’s got that big thing tomorrow night. You know—one of those deals where he’s the hot-shot chef and all,” Josh explained. “I think it’s got him a bit on edge.”

  “Thanks for the heads up,” Poppy said.

  Poppy didn’t like the days before Swaggart had special catering jobs lined up. He always seemed a bit touchy and impatient. He wasn’t mean or too overly grouchy—just not as relaxed, charming, and fun as usual.

  After washing her hands at the sink in the back of the alcove, Poppy headed for the hostess podium.

  “Table for four?” Whitney was asking a young family as Poppy arrived.

  “Yes, please,” the young father said.

  Poppy smiled as Whitney turned to her, handing her two adult menus, two children’s activity menus, and two boxes of crayons. She loved little families. She didn’t care if the kids made a mess or wanted three extra maraschino cherries in their drinks—young families just made her feel happy, and she loved the children.

  “This is Poppy, and she’ll be your server today,” Whitney said. “Table nine, Poppy.”

  “Thank you,” the young mother said.

  “If you’ll just follow me, please,” Poppy said, winking at the little girl dressed all in pink, who stood clinging to her mother’s hand.

  “We never got sat down by you before,” the little boy said.

  Poppy thought he must be about six. His sister looked to be about four.

  “You haven’t?” Poppy said, smiling and winking at him. “Well, I’ll just have to make sure you want to come back and see me.”

  “You guys have good foods,” the little girl said.

  “We do, don’t we?” Poppy said as she grabbed a booster seat from the pile nearby.

  “Last time we was here, the man who cooks our food made us Mickey Mouse pancakes,” the little boy said as he scrambled into his chair at table nine.

  “Mmmm! With a bacon mouth and blueberry eyes?” Poppy giggled.