Page 36 of Blacklist

Poppy distracts me from thoughts of Sterling as best she can for the rest of the trip, but I don’t sell my enthusiasm very well. In the end, I buy a handful of new tops she forces on me, her version of therapy always defaulting to the retail variety. The only item I put real consideration into is the gown for Poppy’s upcoming charity auction.

After trying on what feels like hundreds of dresses, a red silk one finally meets her approval. It’s the last gown I would have considered, considering my hair, but she’s right about it. The color sets off my copper locks rather than clashing with it. It’s elegant and sexy without being too much for a room full of philanthropists.

Our bags and boxes fill the Roadster’s trunk by that evening. Poppy shoves at a bag to get the lid to close before collapsing against the car. “I’m starving. Do you think Felix will feed me?”

I force a smile. Felix has been avoiding me the last few days, or I’ve been avoiding him. It’s hard to tell in a house as big as Windfall. “I’m sure he’ll feed you.”

As we head back to the estate, Poppy lets out a shriek. “Kai is going to make it to the auction!”

Finally, some good news. Usually, I dread these parties, but it’s been too long since I’ve seen Kai Miles. “I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“He’s going to be the celebrity emcee,” she tells me. “There was a conflict but he moved things around.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t helped you with this.” It’s been eating away at me for months that she’s doing this on her own, especially since she’s doing it for me.

“You’ve had a lot on your plate,” she says, dismissing my concern.

“You wouldn’t even be doing this if it weren’t for me.”

“And that’s not a good enough reason?” she counters. “They need to raise the funds, and I can help. It’s not your job to fix everything. Your dad was sick, honey. You were needed at home. But you’re going to put on that killer dress, come to this party, drink too much champagne, and actually enjoy yourself.”

“Is that so?” I can’t help laughing at her determination.

“The last few weeks have been hell, and you deserve to have a good time.”

Poppy might be the only person in my life who believes I deserve anything. I have no idea why. If she peeled back a few layers of me, she’d probably reverse her position on that.

My life has been hell for more than the last few weeks, which is why she never tries. I’ve done my best to hide it over the years, but when my father’s health took a turn for the worse, it became not only impossible but also, for the first time, acceptable to be open about it. No one can fault a daughter suffering while her father is on his deathbed. It only made me look like the dutiful, obedient child he’d always wanted. He had known why I was really around, playing my part. Just like he knew why I had come back from Cambridge to Valmont after my short-lived escape. The world assumes I came home to be by his side. I let them believe that. Sometimes the lie is prettier than the truth.

“I need to remember to get tickets,” I say, making a mental to-do list in my head. I no longer have a dying man to care for, it’s time to take back my life.

“Malcolm already bought a table,” Poppy reassures me. “Or his secretary did.”

That sounds more like it. I’m not thrilled to share the evening with my brother, but a charity event in Valmont never runs out of booze. There will be enough social lubricant for the both of us.

“Do I have to bring a date?” I ask.

“Absolutely not!” She casts a coy look in my direction. “There will be plenty of bachelors from all over Nashville there.”

I’ve known ninety percent of Nashville bachelors since grade school. “I’m not really interested in meeting someone. I just don’t want to look like a loser sitting alone.”

“No one is going to let you sit alone,” Poppy says. “I have plenty of people I want to introduce you to.”

Her matchmaking won’t be denied. “Do you have selective hearing?”

“Only when it comes to you denying your happiness,” she says.

I can’t blame my best friend for wanting to see me happy. Her matchmaking has been on the uptick since she and Cyrus began discussing rings. Why do happy people always try to force everyone around them to be happy, too?

I turn the Roadster down Windfall’s private drive. The magnolias have begun to bloom, the delicate pink blossoms perfuming the sultry, spring evening. I need to pick some for mama’s grave before they wilt. They never last long enough.

A black Vanquish is parked in the circle drive, which means Malcolm has guests for dinner. At least, I’ll have an excuse to eat in the kitchen now. I park the Jaguar in the garage and we pile our purchases as Poppy continues to fill me in on the details of how the auction will work, down to her conflict over the centerpieces. “I want to do something cute and on theme.”

“Like?”

Her arms are full as she continues, “Little dog bones or something, but my mother says it’s tacky.”

Miranda Landry believes anything less than Waterford crystal spilling liquid gold and diamonds is tacky. It’s going to take effort to persuade her to go with a theme.