by Lee Hollis
“Well, that seems fair,” Iris said, still a bit discombobulated. “I’ll let you get to work then. I will be in the kitchen with . . . my sister . . . , who is visiting me from Duluth.”
“Yes, you mentioned that already,” Jay said.
Poppy nearly spit out her coffee and howled. She had to clap a hand over her mouth again. It was Iris’s idea to give Poppy a cover story of being her sister and now she was overdoing it by reminding herself of it over and over again so she wouldn’t forget.
Jay wasn’t finished flirting. “But I don’t mind. You can say it as many times as you want because I could listen to that rough, demanding voice of yours all day. Bossy women are always such a turn-on for me.”
The kid’s aggressiveness rendered Iris speechless. At least for a few seconds. And then she shouted, “Stop doing that!”
“Doing what?” Jay asked innocently.
“Talking that way!” Iris bellowed.
“Yes, ma’am!” Jay said, snapping to attention like a uniformed soldier responding to the firm order of a commanding officer. “Whatever you say, ma’am!”
“And don’t call me ma’am!” Iris growled.
“How about ‘sexy mama’?” Jay said with a wink.
“You are not acting professional at all!” Iris yelled. “I should tell you to leave my house right now!”
Jay winked at her again. “Like I said, you bring out the bad boy in me.”
“Just clean the rug!” Iris snapped.
Iris raced into the kitchen as the carpet-cleaning machine roared to life and Jay began running it over the area rug.
Poppy was doubled over giggling, unable to contain herself.
Iris sat down at the table and shot her a look. “I figured you would be in here enjoying this!”
“You didn’t even mention Alden Kenny,” Poppy reminded her once she managed to stop laughing.
“Of course I didn’t! He did not give me a chance! He kept making those lewd and inappropriate comments! Shamelessly flirting with a woman my age! Nobody should have to put up with that! I should mention his behavior in my Yelp review.”
“Given some of the women you golf with, I’m sure if you did that his business would skyrocket!” Poppy said with a sly smile.
Iris shrugged. “You are not wrong about that!”
“Why are you in here with me? You should be out there talking to him and finding out more about Alden Kenny!”
“Why can’t you do it?” Iris huffed.
“He likes you! Which means he will probably tell you more than he would ever tell me. So get back in there Mata Hari and do your job!”
“Don’t be so bossy!” Iris snapped.
“Okay, but you need to be because apparently that’s what he likes.”
Iris gave Poppy a withering look and then got up and marched back into the living room just as Jay shut off his machine.
“How about that?” Poppy heard Jay say to Iris.
“You were right. It looks brand new. You did a nice job,” Iris reluctantly admitted.
“I couldn’t bear disappointing you,” Jay said. “I’m very good at what I do.”
“Don’t get cocky,” Iris warned. “Now follow me up to the bedroom and I will show you the carpet in the closet I want cleaned.”
“The bedroom . . . music to my ears,” Jay said.
“The last one from your company who was here was much better at people skills! He did not come on as strong as you!” Iris yelled.
“You’ve used us before? Because when you made the appointment I didn’t see you in our billing records.”
“I paid cash,” Iris insisted.
“But that wouldn’t matter because we keep all receipts.. . .”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“No, ma’am. It’s just that—”
“His name was Alan or Alvin, something like that.”
“Alden,” Jay said quietly.
“He came here and cleaned the carpets, kept to himself, and I didn’t have to put up with any silly shenanigans!”
Poppy, listening from the kitchen, quickly could tell Jay’s demeanor had suddenly changed. There was silence in the living room.
“Are you all right?” Iris asked, softening her tone.
“Yes . . . I’m sorry,” Jay said, sniffing.
Poppy got up and hurried into the living room to find Jay, his head down, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Really . . . I’m sorry,” Jay said.
“It is fine! Stop apologizing!” Iris demanded. “Are you crying?”
“No . . . ,” Jay said, his voice cracking.
He was clearly crying.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that you are not my type. I like men who are a bit older . . . ones who are too old to be my grandson!”
“It’s not that,” Jay tried to explain.
“Would you like to sit down?” Poppy asked. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Jay shook his head. “No, I have another job to get to after this. I can’t be taking any breaks. I’m a one-man operation now. My partner . . . Alden . . . he recently passed away.”
“Passed away” was underselling the point just a bit. The poor young man had been murdered. But Poppy kept up the impression that she was completely in the dark about the circumstances. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“He was like a brother to me,” Jay managed to get out between sniffles. “I’m so ashamed.... I shouldn’t be acting like this.... It’s so unprofessional. . . .”
“Now you want to act professional?” Iris asked sharply.
“Iris, cut him a break. He has clearly suffered a loss and is very upset,” Poppy said, crossing to Jay to put an arm around him. She was far better at showing empathy than Iris, who didn’t have time for such theatrics. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
“Yes, I’m sure, thank you,” Jay said, finally getting hold of himself. “We had this business together for only six months but we were friends way before that.... We met when he moved out here from Texas a few years ago. . . .”
Poppy didn’t want to reveal that she knew Alden, so she casually commented, “He must have died very young. . . .”
Jay nodded. “I shouldn’t be talking about this.”
Poppy signaled Iris, who was standing across the room, to come over and offer her condolences. Iris vigorously shook her head at first, refusing, but Poppy glared at her, insistent. Finally, Iris sighed and shuffled over and sat down on the couch and, through gritted teeth, put an arm around Jay and said, “I am sorry for your loss.”
Jay wasted no time in hugging her and burying his head in her chest.
Iris’s eyes popped open but Poppy motioned for her to continue holding him.
Iris was hating every minute of this but did what she was told.
“There . . . there,” Iris said mechanically.
With his face in her breasts, Jay said in a muffled voice, “He had been through a lot, and had some trouble with the law. . . . He wasn’t in a very good place . . . but I helped him out by bringing him into this carpet-cleaning business idea I had. . . .”
“That was very generous of you,” Poppy said gently.
They could barely make out his words because he was face-planted in Iris’s cleavage. “He’d fudge the books sometimes and try to cut corners that weren’t exactly legal to help the bottom line, but I told him I didn’t want to run the business like that, and so he stopped.... After that he tried to stay on the straight and narrow.... Despite his demons, he was a really good guy.”
“I’m sure he was,” Poppy said. “Was he sick?”
“No, the cops say he was murdered,” Jay said, in no rush to remove himself from Iris’s embrace.
“Murdered? How awful!” Poppy yelped, feigning surprise.
Jay nodded his head. “We were roommates, too. We shared a house. I was out working when some friend of his . . . some woman I didn’t know . . . found him floating in t
he pool.”
Some woman?
Poppy was relieved Jay had not done his homework to find out exactly who it was who had discovered the body because then she would have had to explain why she was pretending to be Iris’s sister.
“The cops said there were signs of a struggle, like someone drowned him,” Jay said softly.
“Who would do such a thing?” Iris asked impatiently.
Jay shrugged. “I wish I knew. . . . I tried so hard to keep him out of trouble. But I couldn’t be with him all the time. He may have had a whole other life outside of work I didn’t know about.... I just know he was a damn good carpet cleaner.”
Iris patted him on the head and mouthed to Poppy, Are we done?
Poppy nodded.
That was all Iris needed. She immediately pushed the kid away from her, startling him. “What a tragedy. Well, I have always found it is best to buck up, stay strong and move on! That has always worked for me!”
She jumped up from the couch and marched back into the kitchen, relieved to be finished with her role of chief consoler.
Jay, somewhat dumbstruck, looked at Poppy for an explanation as to what had just happened.
Poppy smiled and shrugged. “She’s German.”
Chapter 26
Poppy sat in the back of the parole hearing room next to Matt, who fidgeted and squirmed and was more nervous than she was. When they had first arrived, Poppy had quickly steered them toward the back of the room for the hearing because she in no way wanted to distract Heather, who was in front of the board making her case to be released early from her sentence for good behavior.
Heather had discouraged her mother and boyfriend from driving all the way here for the hearing because she didn’t want to have to see their crestfallen faces if she was denied, especially since this was her first time in front of the parole board. But Poppy and Matt had both insisted on attending because they had a good feeling about the outcome and did not want to miss out on celebrating if Heather was fortunate enough to be granted an early release.
The hearing had already been in session for almost forty minutes as the three-person panel of commissioners peppered Heather with questions about her crime, her time inside the prison, and her plans for the future in the event that she was ultimately granted parole.
One of the commissioners, an older African American woman, rather stout, with a sweet, sympathetic personality and who was a psychiatrist, seemed to be more on her side than the other two on the board. “Heather, it says here in your report that you have been a model prisoner, you’ve undergone therapy to deal with the events that brought you here, and you have used your own social work degree to counsel other inmates. Is all of this true?”
“Yes,” Heather answered.
“Well, I commend you on your efforts to make the most of your time here,” she said with a kind smile.
The commissioner who sat in the middle, a rather gruff, sour white man who looked as if he would rather be anywhere else, chewed gum and flipped through the file in front of him, distracted and uninterested in the proceedings. “It says here you have only been here thirteen months. What makes you think that’s enough time served for your crime? ”
Heather looked at the man and cleared her throat before speaking. “I don’t think it’s enough time at all.”
Poppy’s heart sank.
Matt physically clenched up next to her.
What on earth was she doing?
Heather sat still at the small table that had been set up in front of the parole board, not moving a muscle except to speak. “I don’t think five years, or ten years, or even twenty years will be enough. . . .”
Poppy stared down at the floor, twisting the strap of her purse, devastated that Heather was torpedoing her chances of an early release.
“I think about what I did every day, and whether or not I am an inmate here or a free woman on the outside, I will always think about it. I will think about it until my dying day. That I can promise you. It’s not my decision where I will be when I think about it. In my cell or at home with my mother. The fact is, I will never forget. And my only recourse is to work hard to make amends, and be the best person I can possibly be, and a contributing member of society.”
“What are your plans if you are granted release?” the third commissioner asked, an Asian woman whose face was totally unreadable. She was the wild card, the undecided vote who would likely determine Heather’s fate.
“I want to go back to school and study criminology, and maybe, if I’m lucky and I get enough loans, pursue a law degree.”
Her advocate on the board smiled and said, “You want to work hard and get on the right side of the law, I see.”
Heather didn’t answer her.
The man in the middle stared at her, unimpressed.
The third commissioner, Miss Hard to Read, sat back in her chair. “You mentioned your mother. Is she here?”
Poppy sprang to her feet, startling everyone in the room. “Yes, I’m here! Poppy Harmon, nice to meet you all!”
The man in the middle sat up straight, as if he recognized her, but didn’t say a word.
“Are you willing to house Heather at least temporarily until she can afford to rent her own place?”
“Of course, yes, I wouldn’t have it any other way!” Poppy blurted out.
The woman turned back to Heather. “Would that be suitable for you, Heather?”
Heather nodded. “Yes, my mother and I get along quite well.”
That remark might have been a stretch.
They had suffered through difficult times, to be sure. But they loved each other and in times of need were certainly there for each other, and Poppy was absolutely determined to be there for her daughter.
“That’s good to hear. Thank you, Ms. Harmon,” the third commissioner said with a slight nod.
“Thank you! I’m just so proud of Heather and all she has accomplished during these difficult circumstances, and I want you all to know that she is a good person who found herself in a very unfortunate unavoidable situation—”
Heather whipped around to signal her mother that she was overdoing it.
Luckily before she could embarrass herself any further, Matt reached out and squeezed Poppy’s hand, then pulled her back down next to him.
“Thank you,” Poppy choked out before covering her mouth to stop herself from speaking anymore.
The parole board adjourned to meet in private, but not before instructing Heather’s lawyer to have Heather and her loved ones stick around for a few minutes while they discussed her case.
Poppy wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not, but she decided to remain optimistic. Usually it took up to six months for a parole board to make a decision one way or the other.
Out in the hallway, they were allowed to spend time with Heather, who was very quiet and guarded, as if she was trying not to get her hopes up too much.
Matt sat down on the bench next to her and put a comforting arm around her. “You did great. How can they not let you out?”
“I have friends inside who went up in front of the parole board and were certain they were going to get released only to be denied. You just never know,” Heather said softly.
“Well, I have a good feeling!” Poppy declared, looking to Heather’s lawyer, Harvey Kaplan, to back her up, but the young, disheveled attorney just shrugged.
“Who knows?” Kaplan mumbled.
Matt kissed Heather on the cheek. “Well, I want you to know that when you do get out I am going to be there for you. We can pick up right where we left off, like nothing ever happened. How does that sound?”
Heather looked at him and smiled. “You’re a good man, Matt, and that’s very sweet of you to say, but I’m going to need some time. . . .”
“Time for what?” Matt asked, confused.
“Time to put my life back together. It’s been over a year. A lot has changed. . . .”
“My feelings for you haven’t!” Matt declared. �
��Have yours?”
“No . . . ,” Heather said. “They haven’t.”
Poppy frowned. She didn’t think Heather sounded all that convincing.
Neither did Matt, who seemed to deflate in front of them.
She had been so worried over the possibility that Matt might leave Heather she had never seriously considered Heather pushing him away.
Heather took his arm. “What I said in there, about going back to school and perhaps working toward a law degree, that’s the one concrete decision I’ve managed to make . . . and so I’m going to go for it. Anything beyond that, I have to take one day at a time. I’m not sure I’m ready to start, let alone resume, any kind of romantic relationship.”
Matt nodded, glancing at Poppy, who was trying to stay strong and not break down and cry out of pity for Matt. He turned his gaze back to Heather and whispered, “I understand. . . honestly I do.”
Poppy believed him. Although he was an actor, a good actor, and he might have just been delivering a solid, convincing performance.
A few moments later, they were called back into the room before the parole board, which announced in a unanimous decision that they were going to recommend Heather for parole.
Chapter 27
Poppy’s apartment had belonged to Heather before her incarceration, so when she brought her back to it after her release, Poppy suddenly felt displaced. In preparation for Heather’s return, Poppy had moved out of the master bedroom, where she had been sleeping the last thirteen months, and set up her belongings in the smaller guest room so Heather could have her old room back. She wasn’t quite sure how all of this was going to work, but she figured they would make it up as they went along. Poppy’s late husband, Chester, had left her in a lot of debt, some of which she was still paying off, and she had lost her home to boot because of his gambling and financial mismanagement, so it had made sense for Poppy to take over Heather’s lease on her much cheaper apartment while she was serving her sentence.
