Once Upon a Winter's Heart Read Online Free PDF

Poppi were. The little woman cooks and cleans and sews and gardens…and the man does as he likes.”
    â€œThat’s not true,” Emma argued. “Poppi always helped Nona with everything. He liked cooking and didn’t even mind cleaning. They worked together in the bookstore and they worked together at home.”
    â€œThat’s not how your father tells it. According to him, Nona worked like a slave and Poppi just did as he pleased.”
    â€œI spent a lot of time here, Mom. As kids, Anne and I were over here a lot. We both saw Nona and Poppi working together. Poppi never treated Nona like she was his slave. Never. ”
    â€œYes. Well, I have to agree. I never saw Poppi treating Nona poorly either.” She sighed. “In fact, I often envied their relationship. I never understood why your father and I couldn’t have that.”
    Once again, Emma wanted to remind her mother that there were two sides to this coin, but she knew that would only invite an argument. And the truth was she was just too tired to fight. “I guess it’s like I told Lucy today. True love and romance is officially dead now. It will be buried tomorrow.”
    â€œOh, Emma, that is so dismal.”
    â€œDismal maybe…but I’m afraid it’s true. Poppi was the last of his kind.”
    Â Â 
    Emma felt like she was having déjà vu as she climbed into the backseat of her mother’s spotlessly clean Cadillac the next morning. With Nona in front and Saundra behind the wheel, and the three of them dressed for the funeral, including hats and gloves to honor Poppi’s memory, Emma flashed back to when she was six and allowed to go with her mother and grandmother to Great Aunt Maria’s funeral in Seattle. Anne had been too young to make the trip and Emma had felt very grown-up to be included that day. Ironically, she felt very much like her immature six-year-old self again…yet at the same time she felt old…and matronly.
    The church was packed with well-wishers, and beautiful flower arrangements lined the altar. Everything about Poppi’s memorial service, from the music to the photographs that someone had enlarged and placed near the casket, seemed fitting. And it was touching to listen to the numerous people who shared their happy memories about how Roberto Burcelli—the man the whole town knew as Poppi—had influenced their lives. But the speech that most captured Emma’s attention came near the end of the service. She’d never seen this tall, handsome, dark-haired man before. He had on a well-tailored charcoal gray suit that Poppi would’ve approved of, but he looked slightly uneasy as he stepped up to the mic.
    â€œI realize that my history with Poppi isn’t as extensive as everyone else. I was only privileged to know him during the last three years,” he began. “But I will always think of him as a true mentor. The first day I met Poppi, he challenged me to read what he called ‘real literature.’ At first I suspected it was a ploy to keep his bookstore afloat.” He chuckled. “But as I got to know him better, I realized it was simply because he respected a good book as well as a good mind. Poppi taught me to appreciate both Hemingway and Dean Martin.” Everyone laughed at this because it was well known that Poppi loved Hemingway and believed Dean Martin was the best singer in the universe. “I will miss Poppi more than words can say, but I’m very thankful to have known him these last few years. He was a good man and we were blessed to have him.”
    Reverend Thomas wrapped the service up with Poppi’s favorite scripture, Psalm 23, and Belinda Myers sang “Ave Maria.” Then the reverend announced that only close friends and family would be attending the burial service. And just like Nona wanted, the immediate family rode in the limousine that followed the hearse to the cemetery. Nona and Rob and