Page 13 of Smooth Talk

As if reading my mind, she continues, “I think it would be a wonderful opportunity for you to mingle with some influential people.” I’m taking a long sip of my lemonade trying to comprehend all the information she’s giving me. The networking at an event like this could set up PM Designs for the next decade.

“Of course, the invitation will include a plus one if you’d like to bring a date.”

I realize I’ve been virtually silent this whole time, deep in thought; “That isn’t necessary. I’m not currently attached.” She smiles broadly, as if it’s the best news she’s gotten all year. Then her smile slowly fades into a look of concern.

“Poppy, there’s no delicate way to say this, so I’ll just come out with it. Your ex-husband’s dealings are known. This is a small town, and the sphere of finance is an even smaller world. After reading everything and watching the news coverage and speaking with Harry, I realized you’re as much a victim as your husband’s, well, for lack of a better word, victims. I appreciate that you were able to rise above everything and start afresh here in Willow Creek. And after meeting you, I’d love to see you thrive.”

She takes a small breath before continuing, “That being said, there will be media coverage at this event and while the shock may have worn off, the story is still fairly recent. I feel that it’s my duty to warn you, if nothing newsworthy happens, you could find your life being dissected on the front page again. The media loves a comeback, almost as much as a scandal, and just because we are hosting a well-respected event, not all members of the press are noble or kind.”

Understatement of the century. Hearing her speak about Reed, makes my palms all sweaty again. It’s my body’s natural reaction to hearing his name. Thoughts of my ex-husband fill me with anxiety, more for Harp than for myself. I have worked so hard to get both of us to a healthy place. It’s been easier for me than for her. I think mainly because my relationship with Reed had basically already ended, hers was still intact. She had no closure, no warning, and no comprehension. She has just recently stopped inquiring about Reed on a daily basis. I’d like to keep it that way. Not that I don’t want her to remember her relationship with her father, or to hold onto hope there could be one in the future. But Reed made his choice. If a man were to come into our lives that could step into that role, I’d be more than happy to let Harp explore a ‘father/daughter’ relationship. Something Reed, someone who supposedly loved us, cared for us, and should have protected us, didn’t fully know how to do.

I remember her asking me after a play date gone wrong if her daddy was a bad man. I explained that her father loved her very much, but he’d made some bad decisions. We all make mistakes. I tried to turn it into a teachable moment. Instead it turned into a game of twenty questions: Where is daddy? Why can’t I see him? Why can’t I talk to him? Doesn’t he want to see me? Why did he leave me? Do you think he’ll ever come back? Ultimately turning into a breakdown of epic proportions.

That exhausting day was just one of many. She can’t understand what he did, let alone why he did it. When she’s older, she’ll have a better grasp on things, but I don’t want her to ever feel like her father chose money over her, even though that’s essentially what he did. It wasn’t just her. He chose money over everyone, over everything. Which is why it’s so important for me to teach her that while money is nice, it isn’t everything. There’s more to life. Like pursuing passions and talents, spending time with friends and family and strengthening the bonds we share with them. I want her to know that the people we love, and that love us in return, are the real treasures.

They aren’t perfect; they will make mistakes. It’s up to us to discern who we let in and whether we allow second chances. I hope she learns forgiveness. Even though I’m not sure if I’ll ever fully forgive Reed for what he did and how he left us. Harper is better than me. She is capable of greatness.

Lost in my thought bubble, I realize Caroline’s still talking, trying to put me at ease. “I can understand your quest to seek tranquility. If you have second thoughts about attending such a public event, I’ll understand. We’d love nothing more than to have you there; I just wanted to offer a kind word of caution.”

“I think after all my experience I'm well equipped to handle the press. But thank you for your concern, Caroline. It’s kind of you to think of me. I'd love to join you for the gala. It sounds like a wonderful event and I'm looking forward to it.”

She beams. “Oh, I’m so glad. I'll have the formal invitation delivered to your home.” She reaches across the table and grasps my hand, warmly smiling at me, “I'm just so pleased you'll be joining us, Poppy.” She momentarily pauses, her eyes taking on a mischievous look, “there will, of course, be several eligible bachelors in attendance; maybe unattached, is the best way to arrive,” she ends with a wink.

“Oh, not you too,” I grumble, and she looks at me quizzically. I try for a smile, but I think it comes across as more of a grimace. “My mother is an avid believer that I need a man in my life.” I explain without going into great detail, “She mentions grandchildren almost daily. Apparently, one is not enough.”

“Well, I can’t say I don’t see her point. I’d love to have some sweet babies around to fuss over and spoil,” she says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes; there is deep longing there. “I’m sure she only has your happiness in mind dear, same as I have for my own children.”

“Yes ma’am.” Agreeing is easier than explaining that I’ve met my fair share of ‘eligible bachelors,’ and I haven’t been tempted by one yet. Unfortunately, I have a feeling Caroline’s already on team Ava. Regardless, I’ll need my mother to babysit for the evening, so I’ll probably have to see a few more of those ‘eligible bachelors’ in the coming weeks to stay in her good graces. Not that she’d ever turn down a chance to spend an evening with Harp. I internally sigh thinking about Albert’s three brothers.

Sara texted this morning to let me know she'd have a late meeting this afternoon and probably wouldn't make it to Willow Creek before dinner, so Harp and I should eat without her. When I picked Harp up, she’d completely forgotten about her dentist appointment.

“Mommy!” She practically tackled me in the front lobby. Then grabbed my hand and skipped all the way to the car. After I reminded her about the dentist, I had to tell her our other plans for the evening to get her out of her funk. “Are you sure it's not my birfday?” She asks excitedly.

“I’m sure Harper June. Your birthday isn’t for another month and a half. Auntie Sara just had some free time and wanted to spend it with her best girls. She’s spending the weekend with us, and specifically asked for a park play date with you, maybe Saturday or Sunday if the weather’s nice.”

“Yes! I love, love, love Auntie Sara!”

“Well, I’m sure you love her just as much as your other Aunties too, right?”

“Yes ma’am! But Auntie Sara lets me have real ice cream when we goes to the park with double hot fudges and sprinkles! And she lets me watch all the princess movies!”

Of course, she does. My cousin Hannah Kate, who lives in Atlanta, is rarely here to take her on dates and my friends Ruby and Emma are both lactose intolerant and they also despise princess movies (except The Princess Bride—it’s a classic neither can resist). They have a monthly slumber party, but clearly, Sara has an unfair advantage. Harp sees so little of her, I’ll let it slide.

Later that evening, after painting each other’s toes (a matte navy for us both), polishing off an entire medium pepperoni pizza, a bag of popcorn and a liter of citrus green tea and powered through six episodes of Harper’s favorite show while downing a liter of citrus green tea, there was a knock at the door. Harper flung herself off the couch to answer it. “Who is it,” she sing-songs through the closed door.

“Your Favorite Auntie,” Sara croons, “And I’ve got presents!” and just like the magic words were spoken, the door swings open and Harper launches herself at Sara, almost knocking her down.

“Oh, my goodness! Look how much you’ve grown! I’ve missed you Bug!”

“I misses you too! What did you brings me?”

“I don’t remember saying the presents were for you…” Sara winks at me, “what if they’re just for your Mama?”

“That’s okay. Mommy’s a good sharer.”

We both laugh hard at that. This kid. Sara smiles at her and hands her a small package and me a bottle of wine.

“Sorry I’m so late. This client is trying to kill me.”

---