George had a standing Monday lunch date at his Aunt Petunia's lunch counter. He chose Mondays because he had Monday afternoons off. At least that's what he told people. He really chose to visit Petunia on Mondays because that was the day that Poppy came into town for the weekly supplies for her Lakeview Sports Club.

Also an orphan, Poppy had been raised at the rectory alongside him. Aunt Daisy had raised her as her own daughter, but at the same time, Poppy knew she'd come to Daisy as a two-year-old. Whenever she would question Aunt Daisy about her real mother, she'd share some superficial things, like her red hair, and how much she loved Poppy, but that she'd died when Poppy was a baby. As children, they never thought to question it, but as an adult, George couldn't help but remember the way Aunt Daisy would look away and change the subject whenever the subject of how Poppy's mother had died came up.

In any case, she and George had been thick as thieves from three to sixteen. That was when he'd left Newfoundland for Toronto and to train for the Constabulary. He'd always assumed that she would marry or take up one of the trades their Aunts had perfected over the years.

Aunt Daisy had an incredible head for business, Aunt Begonia could sew anything you could make or get a picture of, and they could all cook meals fit for a king. All skills they'd passed on to Poppy in the years she'd lived under their care.

Except for childhood fantasy that her life was as easy as his, George wasn't sure why he'd never considered that she might take up their main trade, but when she'd arrived in Toronto five years later with enough cash to open her 'Gentlemen's Sports Club' and hire a staff to help her run it, he knew where the money had come from.

He knew, but other than being a little sad that she hadn't been able to chase the dreams she'd talked about when they were children, he didn't judge. They'd picked up their friendship almost right where it had dropped off.

Her club was truly that. A place where one could swim in the lake, rent rowboats, and fishing gear, or play tennis or snooker or darts, then get a good meal before heading home. However, if one had the means and knew the right way to ask, you would find that the staff was willing to do more than hand out fishing rods or point you to a changing area.

Already being a Constable, George couldn't properly visit her establishment, not during business hours anyway. Poppy ran a respectable house. If you didn't know about the 'extra' services, you would never catch on that it was anything more than what she advertised it as. She had learned Aunt Daisy's lessons well and she didn't want Constables there. Some of the women had negative run-ins with the law prior to the club and she meant for them to feel safe there.

But they would meet on the backside of her property and go fishing and swimming and met in town when their schedules allowed, but their Monday lunches with Aunt Petunia were his favorite.

Sitting side by side at Petunia's lunch counter reminded him of sitting side by side at the counter in the rectory kitchen. He liked being able to touch that small piece of a more innocent time.

"Oh, put away your money, both of you," Petunia scolded them as they finished their weekly meal.

"We're both more than capable of paying for our meals, Auntie," Poppy said.

"And I am more than capable of feeding you two," she answered. "Besides, it's the one day a week that I know you are eating well. Especially you, that cook you have out there at the sports club…, All that fancy food will give you a belly ache. Too salty and rich." She waved her hand dismissively.

"You can always come work for me," Poppy replied.

"I'm too old for your kind of work, Dear," Petunia replied.

"My cook is just a cook," she grinned. "No one is forced to take on other responsibilities. Besides, you can just stay with me and live out your years by the lake or find some rich widower and be a lady of leisure."

"Oh, go on with you," Petunia laughed, stepping around the counter to hug them both. "My days of widowers, rich or otherwise are long over. You'll see her back to her hotel safely won't you, Georgie?"

"Of course, Aunt Petunia," he replied, hugging her tightly. "See you next week?"

"If you don't, I'll be forced to go to your station house looking for you," she said.

"Well, if you bring me some chocolate pie, you'll definitely be welcome," he grinned.

"Goodbye, Dears." She gave them another round of hugs.

"Goodbye, Auntie," Poppy replied, edging towards the door, hoping George could make a similar break for it.

"I do think her goodbyes get longer every week," he laughed as they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"I thought you were never going to break away," she grinned. "I was beginning to think you were going to have to chew a limb off to get away like an animal in a trap."

"I do feel like she is trying to fatten us up for the slaughter sometimes."

George reached for her hand but she deflected, raising her hand to reposition her hat. She knew it was just reflex. George was too well mannered not to offer his arm to a lady he was walking with, but he often seemed to forget that she wasn't exactly the kind of girl he should be seen escorting through the streets of Toronto, especially still in his uniform. Her business wasn't so far out of town that there weren't those who could recognize her on King's Street.

They talked about the weather and other pleasantries as they walked along the crowded street. Turning the last corner before her hotel, she suddenly grabbed his hand, pulling him into a secluded alcove.

The way she kissed him was practically indecent but always left him wanting more. Pulling away, she whispered, "Want to come to play, Georgie?"

Her eyes glittered mischievously as she awaited his answer. Yes, he did want to play. Very much so, but at the moment couldn't make the words form from his brain to his mouth and just nodded, dumbstruck.

"Then catch me," she grinned before ducking underneath his arm and running for the street.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. He couldn't very well go chasing her down a crowded street, still in his uniform. People would think she was in trouble at the very least. Taking a deep breath he followed her, not running, not quite walking either, just hoping that she was staying in the same room she always requested.

His hopes were rewarded when she opened the door after he'd barely had a chance to knock, pulling him inside, kissing him again.

"You never could catch me," she sighed.

"I let you win," he insisted.

"Sure you did," she smirked before leaning in to kiss him again, reaching for the buttons on his tunic.