Poppy looked up from the bunch of carrots she was peeling. “He’s not mine,” she said. He belongs to Yorktide. “And how did you meet him?” “I was chatting with the very friendly woman behind the counter at the convenience store,” Allie said, “when in came this incredibly beautiful man, to whom the very friendly woman introduced me as Poppy Higgins’s visiting friend from Boston. Nothing is secret in this town, is it?” “No,” Violet said quite seriously. “It’s not.” “He’s nice, isn’t he?” Daisy said, swiping a green bean Allie had just topped and tailed. “Very nice. Why don’t you ask him out, Poppy? I mean, he was good enough to bring you lobsters and frankly, lobsters beat roses in my book any day.” Poppy shook her head. “I don’t want a boyfriend, even one as generous and, yes, as handsome, as Jon Gascoyne.” That’s the last thing I need right now, she added silently. Another complication to my already overly complicated life. “Well, if you don’t want him, maybe I’ll make a play for him.”
