Page 13 of Faking It With the Grumpy Single Dad

Without acknowledging me, Poppy yanks off the tape holding it closed and rips open the box. Foam peanuts spill out as she paws through the contents. I try to imagine what might be inside, since I can’t quite see from my current angle, and all I can think is that she must’ve dropped a box of her most expensive shoes or jewels or whatever.

Poppy reaches into the box. There’s a long moment of silence, and then she deflates in relief.

“Oh,phew. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Oh,thank you.”

Whatever is inside, she doesn’t pull it out for me to see, but I’m glad it’s still in one piece. For a minute there, she seemed truly devastated.

Finally, she looks up at me.

“Sorry,” she says. “This is just—it’s really important.”

I nod. “Glad it’s alright.”

While I head back toward the container, I hear her pushing the box across the concrete floor. She starts humming under her breath, the momentary panic forgotten in an instant. The tune she’s humming sounds familiar, though. It’s an old song—one I haven’t listened to in years. I can’t put my finger on the name of it.

I carry another box, this one labeledBooks - Fic, into the garage and deposit it beside the openJM 1999.Poppy is rummaging around inside the container, still humming as she dives deep into the organized chaos.

Even though I know I shouldn’t, I lean forward and peer into the mysterious box.

There are no jewels inside.

Instead, half buried in packing peanuts, is one of seemingly multiple golden trophies shaped like gramophones.

Grammy Awards.

My curiosity wins out and I crouch down to get a closer look at the inscription at the base of the award.

National Academy of Recording Arts & Sciences

SCHISM

Album of the Year - 1999

“Poppies At Dawn” (Album)

The breath rushes out of me. There’s only one reason why this woman would have old Grammy Awards won by one of my favorite bands.

Poppy Minton… JackMinton, the lead singer of Schism.

She’s not just any California heiress. She’s British-American rock music royalty.

She’s the daughter of a legend.

I haven’t listened to Schism in years. It’s a painful experience for a lot of old fans, honestly.

I still remember how devastated I was the day I learned that Schism would never be making new music again.

About fifteen years ago, when I was barely seventeen, the entire band was aboard a private plane that crashed a few miles away from the southeastern coast of England. Every single person aboard perished.

The world lost a musical genius that day.

But Poppy lost herfather.

That’s why she looks so familiar. Jack had the same light blond hair and big, round eyes. Her same chin, too. I know because my childhood bedroom walls were covered in posters of Schism.

“You really shouldn’t snoop in people’s personal belongings.”

I stand up so fast that my thirty-two-year-old spine twinges in painful protest at the sharp movement.

---