The Space Between Sisters Read Free Page A

Win said, with forced patience. “You can’t just say ‘good night’ and push him out the door.”
    Now it was Poppy’s turn to look incredulous. “Win, two minutes ago you were afraid he was a serial killer, and now you’re worried I’ll hurt his feelings? And, just for the record, he didn’t do me that much of a favor. When I bumped into him this morning at that coffeehouse, and I asked him if he could drive me up here today, he said yes right away. He said he loved coming to this part of the state. You know, the north woods and all.”
    â€œOh, that must be it, Poppy. He’s here for the flora and fauna,” Win said, amused in spite of herself. “He couldn’t possibly be interested in a gorgeous girl like you.” But Poppy—whose official position on her beauty was to refuse to acknowledge it—shrugged this off.
    â€œBesides,” she said to Win, “his cousin has a cabin an hour north of here, on Birch Lake. Starting next week, Everett’s going to be able to use it. He wants to get into the habit of doing this drive.”
    â€œAll right. Whatever,” Win said, shifting gears. “Why don’t you two bring your stuff in from the car? You can have our old room,” she said, of the guest room she and Poppy had shared during summer vacations as children, “and Everett can have the couch, if he doesn’t mind.”
    â€œHe doesn’t mind,” Poppy said, confidently.
    â€œGood,” Win said, warming now to the idea of having guests. “We can all have a late breakfast together tomorrow morning—I’ll make French toast—and after that, you’ll have time for a swim before you head back to the city. Unless you want to leave really early Monday morning to get back in time for work.”
    â€œYeah, about that . . .” Poppy said. “Um, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the whole work thing.”
    Win frowned. She didn’t like the way that sounded. “What happened to your job, Pops?”
    â€œWhat happened to it is that I don’t have it anymore.”
    â€œYou were . . . fired?”
    â€œNo,” Poppy said, offended. “I quit.”
    â€œPops,” Win groaned. “Why?”
    â€œBecause it was so unbelievably boring. I mean, have you ever been a receptionist before?” She pantomimed wearing a headset. “Hello, Johnson, Lewis, Lester and Grouper, how may I help you? I did that two hundred and fifty times a day. Can you imagine? Plus, one of the partners, Grouper”—she paused here to shudder—“was really starting to creep me out.”
    Win took a deep breath. Do not freak out, she counseled herself. Stay calm. You can’t kill Poppy. Not with someone else in the next room. She exhaled, slowly. “ Just out of curiosity,” she asked, “did you find another job before you quit this one?”
    To Poppy’s credit, she answered this question with admirable directness. “No, I didn’t. And there’s something else, too.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” Win asked, a little weakly.
    â€œI’m subletting my apartment.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause I can’t afford it, Win. No job, no paycheck. No paycheck, no money for rent. No money for rent, no apartment.”
    Win rubbed her temples. “No, I see the connection,” she said. “But you’re not . . . you’re not moving in with that guy you told me about, are you?”
    â€œPatrick?” Poppy said. “God no. No, he kept telling me he wanted to take our relationship to ‘the next level’ and I kept thinking, ‘Look, I don’t know what’s on that level, but I am not going to go there with you.’ So, yeah, he’s kind of out of the picture now.”
    â€œOkay, but . . .” And Win paused here, not really wanting to know the answer to this next question. “Where are you