Page 17 of The Promise in Poppies
The more Cassie considered the magnitude of her mother’s offer, the more grateful she felt. Between her fatigue, preparing for the baby—plus grappling with the accompanying emotions—and organizing the library fundraiser, she’d been more overwhelmed than she’d anticipated.
“You’re really getting the hang of it.” Cassie grabbed a wet rag to help mop up the mess.
“Fourth time’s the charm.” Donna smiled, wiping a glob of froth off her cheek.
The bell above the front door chimed, and Cassie turned to see Landon Morris stroll inside. He’d traded his typical suit and tie for jeans and a lightweight pullover; the pale periwinkle blue made his dark eyes pop. She noticed he seemed more relaxed since he’d moved to Poppy Creek. Small-town life clearly suited him. Or maybe it had more to do with his rapidly blossoming relationship with Sadie Hamilton. The former rivals turned sweet-shop-owning sweethearts certainly brought out the best in each other.
Cassie set down the damp cloth and moved behind the register to take his order. “What can I get you today? Eliza made these amazing saffron and sun-dried tomato focaccia rolls this morning that I think your mom will love.” Since Landon and his diabetic mother, Irene, avoided sweets, they’d made an effort to include more savory items on their menu.
“Sounds delicious. I’ll swing by for some this afternoon. I actually stopped in to give you an update on the search.”
Cassie stiffened and cast a furtive glance at Donna, who was busy preparing another shot of espresso. Had she overheard?
“You know what,” Cassie said, thinking quickly, “I was just about to head to Penny’s. I promised I’d help her with something. Care to walk with me?” She didn’t wait for a response before asking Eliza, “Think you two can handle things for a few minutes?”
“Absolutely.” Eliza tucked the last lemon biscotti in the large glass jar with the others, creating a tantalizing pattern as chocolate almond, tart cherry, and pepper pistachio all comingled. “Ryder will be here soon, too.”
“Perfect.” Cassie whipped off her apron and folded it neatly behind the counter. “And you’re okay on the espresso machine?” she asked her mother.
“You tell me.” Donna presented an expertly extracted shot. Cocoa-brown and honey-colored swirls decorated the thick crema.
For a moment, Cassie merely stared. She’d been moved by coffee before—like the first time she saw Frank Barrie perform his proprietary roasting process, the Mariposa Method—but this felt different. More personal. As a child, she’d made coffee for her mother as a hangover cure. Of course, as an adult, she now knew it was an old wives’ tale more than scientific fact, but at the time, she’d felt comforted, less helpless. She didn’t realize coffee would grow from a lifeline to a lifelong passion. And she certainly never expected to share it with her mother like this, on positive terms, apart from a desperate remedy.
She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. “I couldn’t have done it better myself.” Before the tears came, she turned away, calling, “I’ll be back shortly” over her shoulder as she followed Landon into the bright, crisp morning air.
“Must be nice to have your mom around,” Landon said casually, falling in step beside her.
“It is.” Cassie smiled. As a newcomer to town, Landon didn’t know about her mother’s past, and there was something refreshing in the innocent simplicity of his comment.
“You have news?” she asked, trying not to get her hopes up. What if the software had worked after all? What if she no longer needed to prod her mother for more information and risk ruining the delicate rapport she’d coveted for so long?
“Not good news, I’m afraid.” Landon offered an apologetic grimace. “Steve’s program keeps hitting a wall. He needs more information. I know it was a long time ago, but is there anything your mom can tell you about your dad?”
Cassie’s heart sank, although she knew she shouldn’t be surprised. “I’ll try to find an opportunity to ask her.” She’d invited her to Maggie’s for dinner that night, but her mother already had other plans, the details of which she hadn’t volunteered. Previously, Cassie would’ve suspected the worst. But these days, she tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. She didn’t mind if her mother kept afewsecrets, but some details—like the identity of her own father—she had the right to know. Didn’t she?
“Great. Let me know what you find out, and I’ll pass it along to Steve.”
“Thanks, Landon. I really appreciate it.” They paused in front of Thistle & Thorn, and Cassie did a double take at the display of vintage baby items in the window. Silver rattles and glass bottles sparkled in the sunlight. It had to be a coincidence. Surely the news hadn’t made it around town yet.
She glanced at Landon, but he appeared completely unaware as he bid her goodbye, promising to stop by the café later that afternoon for the rolls. As he strode toward Sadie’s Sweet Shop, he passed two men unloading an an ultramarine chaise lounge from the back of a delivery van.
With one man positioned on either side, they lugged the hefty piece of furniture toward the antiques shop, and Cassie tugged the bright teal door, holding it ajar as they maneuvered the awkwardly shaped item through the opening.
“Delivery for Penny Heart,” one of the men grunted, starting to lose his grip.
“Over here, please.” Penny sprang from behind the register and directed them to an open space near the back of the shop that she’d prepared beforehand.
The two men unceremoniously plopped the chaise lounge on its delicate, hand-carved legs, and Cassie waited for Penny to sign and pay for the delivery before rushing over to admire it.
“Penn, it’s gorgeous.” She ran a hand along the sloping back, relishing the feel of the silky upholstery beneath her fingertips. “Is it yours?”
“Sadly, no. I tracked it down for a client. But it is beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It’s stunning. But why did the man say the delivery was for Penny Heart? Didn’t you change your last name to Davis?”
“Legally, yes. But I use my maiden name for some business transactions. My dad’s reputation still carries weight with some dealers and collectors, and I don’t want to lose the advantage. The world of antiques and collectibles can be surprisingly competitive.”
“That makes sense.” Cassie sat down, letting her weight sink into the soft cushion. “It’s a shame you can’t keep it, though. This might be the most exquisite chaise lounge I’ve ever seen.”
