FIVE
Turner wasn’t in her apartment when she got home that night. Poppy didn’t see him the following morning either. Progress was being made in the refurbishment, so she could tell he’d been there upon returning after work to find the place empty again.
Baseboards, window and door frames seemed to be his focus. There were wires sticking out of the various holes, so she guessed he was doing something with the electrics too.
She’d gone so far as to change into her nightshirt and was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room with her bottle of wine and the salad she’d saved from lunch. In the past, Poppy hadn’t spent much time thinking about food. Dinner at home was almost compulsory. Excuses needed to be given early and apologies sincere if someone wasn’t going to attend.
Pop
