Poppy was sitting at her favorite corner table in the local pub. She liked to go for a drink every evening because it allowed her to meet all the locals. She hadn't asked around about her family yet, but when the time came, if they knew her, they might be more willing to share the information that they knew.

She had been in the local burgh of Rippon, which was named after her mother's family, for a month, and it had given her a chance to get the lay of the land. She found the locals to be reserved but welcoming, and the longer she stayed and got to know them, the more accepting they were of her.

On the nights she was lonely or upset, she would take her sketchbook, draw bar patrons, and then give them their drawings. It opened the door to conversation, and everyone was pleased to see her when she arrived, especially when she was carrying her sketchbook.

Tonight, she was agitated. Her interaction with the laird was still weighing heavily on her, and if she did find a way into the castle, Poppy didn't doubt he'd kick her back out again. Her hand angrily sketched his face on the page in front of her. She took a sip of her beer and considered her drawing before she drew an evil skull cap, pointy ears, and sharp teeth, slowly turning him into a goblin. Maybe she would put him in one of her stories. The thought made her smile mischievously.

"What's that smile all about?" Ayleen, the pub owner, asked as she sat down Poppy's hot meal in front of her.

"Just brainstorming for my next story," she said as she picked up a fry and bit into it.

Ayleen looked down at her drawing and considered it. "That looks suspiciously like the local laird?" Her eyebrow lifted as she looked at Poppy.

She was a young woman in her mid-thirties with brunette hair cut into a sleek bob. Her makeup was artfully done, and the tight jeans and tailored button-down shirts showed off her trim figure. Her husband, Roy, always worked at the bar while she worked the floor. They had another waitress, Davina, who helped, but Poppy hadn't seen him in a few days.

"Oh, it is." Poppy grinned, and Ayleen smiled back.

"When did you meet him?" She looked at the drawing again.

"Today, he caught me talking with his niece on his land." Poppy grew the eyebrows until they were one. It needed color.

Ayleen frowned. "That doesn't sound like him. He generally doesn't get upset when the local kids wander into his woods."

"Perhaps it's because I'm not local. Either way, he escorted me off his property and ordered me never to return or talk to Mary again." Poppy leaned back and took a sip of her beer. "I don't mind him kicking me off his property, even though I did want to tour the castle. I asked, but he said no."

"You asked when he was already mad at you?" Roy asked across the small space.

Poppy looked up and realized that the entire pub had gone quiet and was listening to the conversation. She blushed a little and grinned again.

"My parents always said I had trouble reading a room." A few people chuckled as she shrugged. "I'm not a shy person."

"We never would have guessed," a younger man named Billy called, and Poppy lifted her beer to him at his easy teasing.

"Anyway, he told me to take a tour, but it's sold out for months. I'm most upset about his ordering me not to talk to Mary again. I have a feeling she is lonely and wants someone to talk to."

"She is lonely, and so is her brother Peter," Ayleen agreed. "Their parents died in a plane crash about 18 months ago. Their mother, Molly, was Isaac's sister. It's history repeating itself." She shook her head and moved away, and the conversation started back up.

Poppy felt guilty about the drawing. He was raising his dead sister's kids so he would be protective, having lost so much already, and she couldn't help but be curious about how history was repeating itself.

She flipped the page and started a new sketch of a couple in the corner, obviously in love and whispering to each other over their drinks. The sight made her smile, and she drew distractedly as she considered all Ayleen had said.

One of the local women, who Poppy recognized but hadn't been introduced to, sat across from her. "Hi," she greeted as she placed her drink on the table. "I'm Sally Deen."

"Hi, Sally Deen. I'm Poppy Stevens." Poppy smiled as she picked up her glass and offered a toast to their greeting.

"I was listening to your conversation with Ayleen, and I think I can help you." Sally leaned back in her seat, watching Poppy's pencil as it flew across the page. She looked at the couple and then at the drawing. "That's Drew and Sarah. They got married last month."

"This can be a belated wedding gift." Poppy stopped and looked at the couple, feeling her heart twist a little. She was the only one left in her family that hadn't found true love yet, and she was beginning to think she never would.

She looked at Sally. She had green eyes that were slightly slanted, porcelain skin, and dark brown hair. A few wrinkles had appeared around her eyes and mouth, but she couldn't be much older than 40.

"The women in this town are all so lovely," Poppy sighed, and she watched as Sally blushed.

"And the men?" She smiled as she looked around the room.

"They're not as pretty, but they'll do." Poppy smiled again as she went back to her drawing. "How can you help me, Sally Deen," Poppy asked.

"My cousin from America was supposed to visit me next week, but something came up, and she had to cancel her trip. I had two tickets for us to tour the castle, and I still want to go, but going alone seems daunting. Would you like the other ticket?" Sally offered.

Poppy looked at her and dropped her pencil. "Are you serious!" she leaned forward, excitement and eagerness written all over her face.

"Yes," Sally laughed, getting excited too,

"You'll let me pay for the ticket?" Poppy insisted.

"No, my cousin already paid for both. She told me to take a friend." Sally blushed at the word friend as if she was assuming too much.

"Sally, you're my new best friend," Poppy said, reaching across the table and squeezing her arm. "You'll at least let me buy you another drink."

"That I'll do. Roy's prices are getting outrageous!" Sally said loudly, and a few men banged their glass on the bar in agreement.

Roy's lips thinned, and he shot a look at Sally as he opened his mouth to tell her off.

One thing Poppy had discovered was that this little burgh was like a family. The people fought like siblings and knew everyone's business, which reminded her of her family.

"A song!" Ayleen called and looked around. "Billy!" she ordered.

Billy stood, and his rich baritone filled the small space, making everyone smile as they focused on him.

Poppy continued to draw the couple in the corner as she listened to singer after singer get up and perform. Her family was very musical. Her mother and father were famous for their voices. Her uncle was the lead singer for a world-famous band, and her sister had the voice of an angel. Every family get-together involved music.

"Now you, Poppy!" Ayleen called.

Poppy looked up, caught off guard as the entire room stared at her. She felt it was a test of some sort, almost a right of passage, and if she didn't sing, she would be judged harshly.

"I don't know any local songs," she hemmed.

"Just sing anything!" Billy called.

"Alright," she stood and tore off the page with the drawing on it, then walked her over to the couple. "Congratulations on your wedding," she said as she offered it to them.

They took it and studied it, then each other, and when the woman looked at her, she had tears in her eyes.

"Thank you!" She stood and hugged Poppy close.

"Sure," she said, blushing at the attention before turning toward the room that was all watching her.

"Umm, she cleared her throat as she thought quickly of an easy song she could sing. She chose an old World War II song that told a story since all of the other songs told stories. "We'll Meet Again". Her grandmother had been fond of the era, and her children and grandchildren knew songs from that time.

Her voice grew stronger as she sang, and everyone listened so intently that no one noticed the door open or the man himself, the Laird of Alfheimr, entering the pub.

When she finished, everyone broke into clapping. She gave a little bow and then turned to go back to her table, noticing Harrison and ignoring him as she walked past him. What a time for him to arrive, right when she was caterwauling a song.

Sally was sitting at the table waiting for her to return. "You have a lovely voice," she insisted as Poppy sank into her seat and took a swig of her beer.

"Hardly," Poppy denied as she shook her head. Compared to her sister and mother, she sounded like nails on a chalkboard. She watched as Isaac Harrison sat at the bar and ordered a drink.

In fact, the entire bar was covertly looking between the two of them.

The couple she had drawn approached and thanked her again, shaking her hand before leaving.

A few minutes later, Poppy was overwhelmed, so she started gathering her things to leave.

"You're staying in the Cameron cottage, right?" Sally asked as she stood with her.

"I am," Poppy nodded.

Sally looked around. "I don't blame you. The atmosphere changed, didn't it?"

"Big time," Poppy nodded as Harrison looked over his shoulder, shooting her a disgruntled look. She'd bet if he could kick her out of the bar, he would.

Suddenly, Poppy was angry at him in an unreasonable way. She knew she would regret it because she wasn't mean-spirited, but she pulled out her sketch pad and ripped out his drawing.

"Mr. Harrison," Poppy meekly said as she tapped him on his larger shoulder.

He turned and looked down at her with a bored expression.

"I'm so glad you're here," she said, all sweetness as the entire bar grew quiet, watching her. "It's kind of my thing to draw people and give them the sketches I do of them, and well, I never thought I would see you again, being banned from your property such as I was, so I'm very pleased to be able to give this drawing I did of you." Poppy slid the drawing onto the bar. "I think I caught your likeness. What do you think?"

Poppy peeked at Roy to see if he was angry at her insulting one of his guests, but he had his head down and was trying to control a grin.

"You can navigate the wilderness, sing, and draw. Tell me, is there anything you can't do?" He took a sip of her beer, his eyes raking over her face as he waited for her to respond.

"I can't charm you," she responded honestly.

"Charm, what an interesting word," he said as he looked at the drawing. "I'm sure Mary will love it."

The comment caught Poppy off guard. She didn't expect him to be so self-effacing.

"Good night, Poppy," he dismissed as he turned back toward the bar.

Poppy grew bright red. He had dismissed her. Somehow, her little snub had been turned back on her. He again had the upper hand, and Poppy guessed he would probably have the upper hand in every situation.

Realizing that she had made the situation more awkward by standing there speechless after his comment, she turned quickly on her heel and marched out of the pub, her ego somewhat soothed by everyone's farewells as she went.

Isaac Harrison, two, Poppy Stevens, zilch. 

It wasn't in her character to be mean; when she tried, it always backfired. She should know better. She wasn't like her Aunt Laura and Aunt Trisha, who could cut down a person with a word, or her cousin Fiona, who could cut someone with a look. She wasn't intimidating enough in either her looks or manner.

Poppy got mad all over again, forgetting every thought she had just had about being men, and decided then and there that she would definitely make him the goblin in her next story.