“The fashion magazines say so too,” Fiona said.
Poppy had her bob styled in bumpy waves that flattered her strong jaw and big brown eyes. Still, I mourned the shiny tresses I’d brushed and braided so many times when we were young. Her thick hair had been spectacular. Like Jo in Little Women, her crowning glory.
“But…but…why?” I asked.
“It’s so much easier this way,” Poppy said. “I was up every morning at dawn and often called out to a farm in the middle of the night. This allows me to get up and go without any fuss.”
I didn’t say so, but wasn’t a braid or a bun just as easy?
As if I’d said it out loud, Poppy continued with her argument. “Anyway, all that hair was giving me headaches. You don’t want me to have an aching head, do you? You’re much too kind for that.” She flashed me a puckish smile, knowing it and her words would melt me. We’d known each other for too long.
“Jo, she was having headaches,” Cymbeline said, chiming in from the couch. “Isn’t that awful?”
I shot my sister a withering look, which she completely ignored. The gleam in her eye told me she was already planning her own dance with a pair of scissors.
“I know what you’re both doing,” I said. “Playing on my sympathies.”
“Is it working?” Poppy asked. “Please say you forgive me. I’ve been so worried to show you.”
“Of course I forgive you. It’s your head anyway.”
“That’s right. Her head,” Cymbeline said.
“Cym,” Fiona said. “None of this is your business.”
“Poppy’s my friend too.” Cymbeline crossed her arms over her chest. “I can have an opinion, and I think she looks worldly and sophisticated and not bound down by the patriarchal society.”
I laughed as some of my irritation with my sister subsided. “Cym, where do you get these ideas?”
“From books, as you well know,” Cymbeline said. “Books in your library, I might add.”
“In fact, it did feel as if I were cutting off a lot of expectations about how I should be,” Poppy said. “I feel more myself now. Free and independent.”
“She has her own job.” Cymbeline’s voice rose in pitch. “Think about that. She won’t ever have to rely on a man.”
“It’s true,” I said. “I’m awfully proud of you.”
“She boasts about you to anyone who’ll listen,” Fiona said. “We all do.”
Poppy smiled at us all in turn. “Oh, you lovely girls, I’m glad to be home. I’ve missed you all more than I can say.”
Truly, who was I to say anything? Poppy was living in a man’s world of muck and mud while I pampered my precious books in a warm library all day. However, Cymbeline was still a child with no idea of how her impetuousness could get her into trouble. Someday she might like to have a man. A concept she was so disdainful of now might at some point be attractive. I couldn’t wait for the day she fell in love and understood that not everything is a race or a competition. Loving someone would change her, soften her. I hoped, anyway.
“We’ve missed you,” I said to Poppy. “Now give me a hug.”
We embraced. The muscles in her arms and shoulders tightened around my waist. “You’re so strong.”
“Wresting around farm animals will do that to a girl.” She let me go and took her place between the girls.
As I sat across from them, I further studied Poppy. In addition to the cutting of her locks, she had a new air of assurance and confidence. She wore a light blue traveling suit that flattered her small but sturdy stature. Only a few inches over five feet, she often reminded me of the quarter horses she loved so well—small, strong, and graceful.
I’d worried growing up that she felt caught in the shadow of the Barnes girls. Had she felt envious at times? If so, she never let it show. Still, her brother was our employee. Although Mama and Papa had always made sure to include the Wu children and Poppy into whatever parties or treats we had, the reality remained. We were rich, and they were not.
Whatever the case might have been back then, here in front of me now was a woman of the world. A professional who would make such a difference in our community.
“You’re the luckiest person in the whole world,” Cymbeline said. “Working outside all day. Not having to care about manners and staying clean and pretty.”
“You can be both strong and pretty, you know,” Fiona said. “Like Poppy.”