Page 67 of Ocotillo Kisses
“We worked hard. In retrospect, we should have covered the shelves with plastic, so we had all that cleaning to do after we ran the stripper. When we could barely hold up our heads, Sofia herded us to the motel.”
“Did all of you stay?”
“No, just me and Con. More people were helping earlier, but they went home, and since we lived the farthest, she didn’t want us driving home.”
“Yes, I’m glad she thought about that.” Millie looked sideways at her. “Two rooms?”
“Um.” Britt was suddenly very very interested in stirring her tea. But she wasn’t going to lie.
Her grandmother leaned forward. “Are you back together, then?”
“We’re just—enjoying each other’s company while I’m in town.”
“Really. Is that it? You’re leaving next week, and that seems like a big step.”
She didn’t really want to tell her grandmother last night hadn’t been the first time. She wasn’t the kind of person who wanted to reveal old sins. “I’m still leaving next week.”
“I guess I don’t know why you think it’s so bad to stay here? I thought you left because you couldn’t deal with the sorrow, and I absolutely agreed that was what you should do, to take care of your own mental health. But you are back and you see that grief has faded, and Con has apparently forgiven you, so what is so bad about this place?”
She shook her head even as her grandmother spoke. “Grandma, my business is in Houston. My life. I can do some of the business remotely, but I need to be in town for most of it. I am on the cusp of something big, Grandma. I’m thirty and I have a successful business. It’s not something I could do here. I have to be in Houston. There’s no question.”
“You said you don’t have a boyfriend there.”
Britt struggled not to squirm in her chair. “No time for one.” This was coming painfully close to the conversation she’d had with Sofia.
“You don’t have a lot of time if you want to have children. Trust me. I had kids when I was young, and my last one when I was forty, and it was so much easier when I was young. I just wasn’t able to keep up with your aunt Betsy like I was with the others.”
“Maybe because you had the others,” Britt teased. “I don’t know. I mean, like lots of people my age are waiting to start families, too, so at least I won’t be alone.”
“I think Con would be an excellent father. You saw how he was with Caleb’s little girl the other night.”
That did give her a little tug, because years ago, she and Con had talked about having kids together, and he would be a great dad. “I did. But Con won’t leave Broken Wheel, and I won’t stay.”
But even after her long night, she couldn’t stick around the house. After she dealt with her pending business, some stuff that she needed to get done today, more she could put off until later, she headed into town around the time that school was getting out. She felt like she needed to talk to Poppy before someone else did.
She walked into the new school building, cool and dimly lit after the children had left the building. Some teachers glanced toward her in surprise when she walked into the enclosed office. She had such clear memories of her own elementary school days, the old ugly brown-ish linoleum, the old ugly brown-ish tiles on the walls, the low ceilings with the acoustic-dampening tiles.
This school let in light through the long windows besides the doors, though they were tinted against the West Texas heat, the ceilings were a bit higher, the walls white tile, which Britt supposed was easier to clean, the floors a colorful checkerboard of red, yellow and white. The long bulletin boards were empty, though, probably because the school year was coming to a close.
“Hi, I’m looking for Poppy Woodward,” she said to the young woman behind the counter in the front office. “Do you know where I could find her?”
The young woman gestured down the hall. “I think they’re having a meeting in room six.”
“Great, thanks.”
Just what she needed, to talk to Poppy in front of her colleagues. Nope. Not a good plan. But she was here, and she’d already asked after Poppy. Leaving now would look weird.
So she headed down the hall to search for Poppy.
She followed the laughter into room six, where Poppy and four other teachers sprawled in small plastic chairs, leaning on desks that were askew, and each teacher had a styrofoam cup in front of her.
The room itself was a mess, half of the walls empty, the others with decorations dangling precariously. Clearly they were ready for summer.
Poppy sat up when she saw Britt in the doorway, a frown creasing her brow. “Britt! What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you, but I guess you’re pretty busy.”
“As you can see,” one of the older teachers said, gesturing with a sweep of her hand, then giggling and taking a sip from the cup.
