I shake my head like a cartoon character. “I don’t understand.” I look back towards the house. “This is my house, right?”
He smiles and walks closer to me. He’s so much younger than I think of him at the office. I think because he’s been so successful and seems to have everything under control, I neglect to remember he’s only thirty-five. He feels about fifty, and with the excess golf and time off, I think of him as more my father’s contemporary than my own.
But here in the moonlight, I think perhaps I’ve only been protecting myself. Simon is the kind of man who tempts me because he knows who I truly am. Well, with the exception of the Hawaiian spa idea—that’s all his own. Naturally, it’s not odd I haven’t noticed how truly attractive he is. He’s my patient. It’s my job not to notice him that way.
Seeing Simon under the familiar blue of my Santa Cruz moon, with the scents of the Pacific so nearby is like seeing my first-grade teacher at the grocery store: a mixture of awe and confusion.
“Simon, what on earth?” I ask, stepping back and looking again at the house. “Do you have something to do with all these men here?” Granted, stupid question, but I’m not feeling like myself here.
“What are you doing here, Poppy? I wanted to be done before you saw it.”
“Done with what? Don’t you have to have permission from the owner to rip a house apart? What is this world coming to? Where’s my lawyer?”
He crosses his arms. “If I lived in fear of lawyers, I’d never get anything done in California, where they breed like rabbits. So your threats, while made in jest and pathetic at best, don’t scare me one iota.”
“Simon, I can’t pay for this.” But that’s not really true. I’m afraid to pay for any of this. I’m afraid to be without the money I’ve put away for a rainy day—and my father’s latest escapade. Which, interestingly enough, will now probably come in the parched dryness of the Arizona desert.
He smiles. “Did you think I would make you pay for it, Poppy?”
This raises alarm bells. “Simon, I don’t want to owe anyone anything.”
“I realize that. Do you think that’s the healthiest of attitudes?”
“I’m not going to Hawaii. I’m not going to give up my practice because you went over the top. You have too much money.” I use my hands to emphasize that fact. “You need to start a foundation or take care of an orphan. Anything but this.” I point back at the house. “I would have managed this fine. Did you ever think I might have wanted to sell the house as-is? Or not sell it at all.”
“No, I didn’t, because you’re a perfectionist, Poppy. Not only would you have not wanted to do that, but you couldn’t have done it. It would have cracked your core.” He laughs. “So you’re not happy to see the house different?”
“No, I am, but—”
“It was crumbling on its foundation, Poppy. Cracks everywhere. I knew you couldn’t deal with seeing it destroyed. We needed to reshore the foundation, and that took the longest. Some people have a hard time caring for what’s given to them.”
Feeling cared for is just not an emotion I’m comfortable with, and I sort of want to kick him. He knows this, and that’s exactly why he did it!
“Simon, you still haven’t explained what you’re doing here and why you’re in my house. Knocking it down, I might add, with no permission from its rightful owner.”
He exhales, deeply, nodding his head.
“And don’t pull that fake concerned look with me. Don’t you think I know your tricks by now?”
“I’m not nearly as bright as all that. I’m thinking of how I want to say this. Relax a minute. You’re getting to be completely non-Zen. If I didn’t know any better—”
“You’re stalling.”
“My best friend is a flipper,” he says
“A what? Is that some sort of fetish or something?”
“No, Poppy. My friend flips houses for a living. He buys garbage, run-down houses that people can’t sell, fixes them up, and sells them a month later for twice the price. He buys granite and high-end products in bulk and makes all his places look the same inside. Always upper-end quality, just the same.”
“So why is he here? And what are you doing here?”
“Your dad told Emma what he was doing with the house and Arizona. That he was returning the house to its rightful owner, and you were that rightful owner. Then, I heard him tell Emma that you needed to go back and face the past. All this Dr. Phil crap . . . I don’t know—it just made me boil inside. You just don’t leave this kind of work for someone else.”
“And you heard this?” I really have to get an office with more privacy.
“I’m a business man; I pay attention and your office isn’t exactly set up for privacy. Yet another reason I want to help you get a real clinic. Anyway, he mentioned the house was a little run down and hoped it wouldn’t be too hard for you to fix.”
I give him the look that says I want more information.
“Emma said you were already pushing it, with ten-hour days, the carpal tunnel syndrome symposium, plus two hours a day of training for your triathlon. She didn’t think you could handle it, and your dad shrugged it off, saying you always handled everything else.”
“So why wouldn’t you believe that?”
“I just thought I knew the right man to help you. Leif and I went to school together, and I knew he could flip this house faster than you could get a permit. I just saw a need and I filled it. That’s what I do, Poppy. I’m an efficiency expert.”
“Sometimes the most efficient way is not always best. Why did you think that any of this was your business?” It comes out harsher than I mean it to, but I can’t quite grasp what I really feel. My heart is thoroughly grateful that this mountain doesn’t lie before me.
He steps closer to me, and I feel a sharp intake of breath at his proximity. “Because, Poppy Clayton, in case you haven’t noticed, I want to take care of you. I know you slap me back at every turn, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to stop just yet. How long did it take Edison to get that lightbulb right?” Simon towers over me and I want to step back, but my feet don’t move. “You’ve taken care of me for three years, and now it’s my turn.”
I swallow my emotion. “Haven’t you heard of this thing called women’s liberation?”
“I have. I think it’s all crap, actually.”
“Well, you should meet up with the plastic surgeon from next door. He seems to think we should all be barefoot and pregnant. And then, of course, erase all signs of such commonness later with plastic surgery.”
“You’re rambling. I don’t care what that mouse thinks.”
“Mouse?”
“A man who has to drive a car like that has something to prove. I don’t.”
“So what are you trying to prove with this?”
“That a man takes care of things. Unlike Dr. Plastic. And—” He looks at me again, and we both know he wants to say my dad, but doesn’t go through with it.
I nibble on my lip, wanting to laugh, but I find I can’t. There’s not a sense of mirth in anything he says, but maybe it’s the way he’s saying it.
“Simon, you could sell a shark on fresh water. Now, if you’ll tell me who’s in charge, I’ll take care of getting payment ready and finding out what they’re doing to this house.” I start to walk away, but I feel Simon on my heels and turn to face him. “What?”
“You’re telling me you can pay for this?”
“Well, not yet, of course, but when I sell the house.”
“What happened in this house?”
“You know,” I say, reminding him. “My mother went into a diabetic coma and I found her.”
He shakes his head, “What else? There’s got to be a reason you’ve avoided it. People die, Poppy, and I’m sure it was tragic to lose your mother at such a young age, but that doesn’t explain everything”
“Isn’t my mother’s coma bad enough?” I try to laugh it off, but he never cracks a smile. He doesn’t lo
ok away, and he keeps those brown eyes of his fixed on my own, challenging me with their intensity. Simon reads me like an X ray. With him, I feel transparent.
He drops his gaze. “I’m sorry, Poppy. I should have asked you before I just took over. What can I do to fix it since I’ve already screwed up?”
“It’s complicated, Simon.” I turn back toward the house, but I feel Simon’s arms come around me. When I turn around and look up into his steady brown eyes, every part of me feels his presence.
I crave things that are bad for me, like my mother craved sugar and carbohydrates. Her addictions killed her when she couldn’t resist. I should have never let myself get this far. I should have never treated Simon like he didn’t matter, while growing dependent on his weekly presence in my office.
I close my eyes, waiting for his lips to touch mine. But they don’t, and when I open my eyes his are clamped shut as though he’s really wrestling with something emotionally.
“Simon?”
“I’m sorry, Poppy. You’re right. Maybe I should have started a foundation.”
chapter 15
Aspring night in Santa Cruz is filled with wonder. The stars shine against the black sky and twinkle in their neon light. It’s magical. I’ve often pondered how people can live without an ocean in their life. Hearing its thunder, watching its power, and knowing its all-encompassing consistency will be there night and day is a constant reminder of how we’re nothing more than a grain of sand in life. Whatever happens in life, the tide will come in and the tide will go out. How do people in the Midwest know that they’re small and insignificant? How do people in Hollywood not know?
“Simon.” I force my gaze from the backyard sky, seeing the uncertainty I’ve brought to his life. It’s interesting to see how unfeeling I can be on the face of another. I see it in Simon’s eyes. He appears beaten and haggard. I know him— he’ll pop out of it. But the realization that I’m capable of inflicting such pain is still there. Helping people, healing people, I’m in my element, but on the receiving end I manage to mutilate things every time. “Simon.” I grab his hand between my own. “Thank you for this. It’s too much, you know, and I just don’t know how to take it.”
He nods stoically.
“No, I mean it. I really am grateful. What you did for me is just beyond the scale of what I can imagine, and I’m overwhelmed, and frustrated by my response.”
“The proper response is thank you.” He starts to walk towards the back door. He looks towards me. “And you’re welcome.”
“You’re not leaving?” I ask.
“You tell me I’ve got a charitable foundation to start. I’ll need to get on that.”
“Are you making fun of me?” I’m blinking back tears as I ask this.
“Lord forbid I actually give to a friend who deserves my money. Someone who makes my favorite thing—golf—possible with her gentle touch. There’s no tax write-off in that.” He shakes his head. “Shame on me for thinking like a man, instead of a like businessman.” Simon stares straight at me . . . and winks.
“You’re winking at me? This is funny to you? You’re not really going to start a foundation, are you?”
“I thought maybe the ‘Woe is me’ act would work,” he shrugs. “You can’t blame a guy for trying. Someday, Poppy, you’re going to see what you’re missing in me, and I just hope I’m not doing the hula with a gorgeous wahine when you realize it.”
“Simon, you can have any girl you want and you know it.”
“But I don’t want any girl. What guy does? I want the one I want. The one I know is wife material for me.”
I gasp. “W-what?”
“You heard me. I said the word wife. I’ll bet you’re dying for a run at this moment.”
“Simon, you only have to go as far as Lilly and Morgan to know I’m not marriage material. Don’t you want to actually date the woman you say you want in marriage? I’ll make my husband eat— Well, what if I took your steak away?”
“You wouldn’t do that, and I’m not as easily frightened as you might think. I can order a steak when we go out to dinner. Do you believe in restaurants?”
“This is flattering, you know?” But I don’t believe a word of it.
“I do know. I’m a great guy. What’s not to be flattered about?”
I force down the giggle I feel. I don’t think I’ve felt this lighthearted since I was twelve. I feel as though Aerosmith is bellowing “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing.” “You’re so modest too.”
“I’ll give you that: modesty is not my strong suit. It’s from growing up as the mathlete in a sports-related environment. Then, when football got really important, I had to final in the national science bowl.” Simon raises his eyebrow, to give me his best romance cover look. “Now one might think being a quarterback is cool, but the hot chicks know that real men compete in a verbal format to solve today’s technical questions.”
“So you didn’t have many dates, I’m guessing?”
“Not one. But I knew how to create a really cool robot that turned on the vacuum cleaner. It couldn’t actually push the vacuum, but it was a start. Great science comes from humble beginnings.”
“Are you telling me you created the precursor to the Roomba?”
“Come again?”
“The little vacuum cleaner that goes by itself.”
“No, I’m telling you I couldn’t get a date to save my life, and now science has made me a wealthy man and I can’t keep them away. But I don’t want those women. I want the one who would have loved me despite the science fair. I want the one who would have danced with me to the Bee Gees long after it was fashionable. I want you, Poppy.”
Every part of me tingles as Simon says this. The truth is I want him too. I never really thought of the possibility, but the reality is that I have a different course and I’ll only ruin his.
“Well, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” I lift my chin towards the sky. “I would have thought you were a geek back then, too, just like the other girls,” I lie. The idea that Simon was ever a geek is ridiculous. He looks like a big, hunky football player with a scientific brain. Bill Gates in a muscular, masculine body. Hardly a geek in anyone’s book.
“Poppy.” Simon crosses his arms. “You wear tie-dye and your Walkman—notice I said Walkman, not iPod—still spews Credence Clearwater Revival. You’re not really in a place to judge geekdom. Just one of the reasons you’re the girl for me.”
I look down at my running gear. In this outfit it’s not all that obvious that I’m out of touch fashion-wise. But make no mistake, if being friends with Lilly and Morgan has taught me anything, it’s that I have no fashion sense. But again, this isn’t about me. “Credence is timeless.”
“You shouldn’t listen to it so loud; it’s bad for your hearing.”
“What, are you the doctor now?”
“I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Poppy.” At this I turn away and look down at the overgrown grass my father probably hasn’t cut in a year. I focus on it, rather than take in what he’s saying, which is just too far from reality. “I know you understand what it feels like to be different, and I know you light up when I come into the office, whether you want to admit it or not.”
I swallow hard at this, trying to will myself to believe he’s making this all up. I do not light up when he comes in. What am I, an eighth-grader? I’m just happy to see a consistent patient, is all. I clear my throat. “That’s not a reason to think you should offer marriage to someone, Simon—because they understand being a geek. That’s like taking the runt in the litter and thinking it’ll love you more because you rescued it. I don’t need to be rescued.”
“I do,” Simon says low and pointed.
“I can’t deal with this now,” I say.
“Do you want to run?”
I sigh loudly. “I’m dying to run. How can you tell?”
“Your leg is shaking. Let’s go to the beach. You can admit your weakness for me tomorrow. I
’ll chaperone you while you run.”
“Who’s going to chaperone you?”
“That’s the beautiful part. I’m hoping nobody.”
“Good thing I can take you.” I ball my hand into a fist.
He grabs it. “Good thing.”
“I’m going to pay for all this,” I say as we walk through the house and the stench of bleach. Lilly would be like an addict in here.
“I don’t think you will when you hear what it costs.”
“Are you trying to tell me I’m indebted to you?”
“Forever. How do you feel about indentured servitude?”
“Is that like aromatherapy?”
“Sort of, only the cologne comes on a gift with purchase. Me.” He grins widely, and I have to say, his grin warms my insides. I’m home. I hear the ocean roaring, I see the fireplace where my mother had fires before the environmental protection agency warned us against such ozone evils, and I feel truly joyous. I thought this would be the worst day of my adult life, and Simon made it completely fun and I forgot what I feared in the first place.
Simon shouts some directions at the builders and sends them home. “There’s no use in paying them for Sunday night if you already know,” he says to me.
“I can’t believe you did this.”
“Oh that reminds me, I stored all the furniture in a storage unit up the street. You’ll have to go through that.”
“Furniture? My dad left the furniture?”
“Honey, your dad left everything. Not really a compulsive man, is he? When I saw him in that suit, I thought certainly his house would be like an Armani closet. It looked like a well-stocked secondhand store.”
I laugh. “Actually, my father has more taste than cash. His house was almost like a hideout; he always met people at fancy restaurants.” I stop on the front porch and hop one step down from Simon, turning to look at him. “Do you remember in The Cat and the Hat Comes Back how there’s this one red spot and the cat destroys everything to clean that spot? That’s sort of how my dad leaves the house looking. Everything around him is painted with the memory of his being there.”
Calm, Cool, and Adjusted Page 17
