Who Pissed Off Ivy Dell? (Ivydell Book 3)

6. Ivy

Ivy

I’ve sent Mom at least a dozen videos of chipmunks playing, even though I know she saw them growing up. She hasn’t told me to knock it off yet, so I assume she’s enjoying them as much as I do. And she didn’t correct me and say they’re ground squirrels, so obviously, they’ve always been chipmunks here.

I wander into the community center to see if Tawny left behind any muffins from this morning. Sometime, she leaves a covered plate on the counter after they close up the coffee shop. I’m surprised to find her still there. She and Leo have set up easels near the front windows.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in.”

“Nonsense,” Leo says. “We don’t own this space.”

“We’d paint outside if we could, but the wind makes it’s impossible some days. We just want to get a few more pieces done before the festival, but you’re not bothering us.”

I spy the covered plate on the counter. “I’m glad I didn’t disturb your process, but I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I steal a muffin.”

“You can’t steal what’s free,” Leo says.

“Please, take the rest,” Tawny says.

There are three left on the plate. “Maybe I’ll take the last two over to Alma and Elma.”

“You are so sweet,” Tawny says. “I bet they’d love an afternoon snack.”

Pausing at the door, I watch the couple paint for a few moments. I always loved watching Gran at work. When I was little, I’d sit and watch her for hours, stunned when her strokes turned into a recognizable image. Even when I was a teenager and no longer amazed by her process, I still loved coming home to find her on the sunporch with a paintbrush in her hand, humming in front of a canvas. She was so happy when she was painting.

I can’t resist stepping over to see what Leo and Tawny are creating. His painting is abstract, and I like the colors, but I don’t know much about this type of art. All I can say it’s pretty.

Tawny’s piece is a desert landscape with a cactus in bloom. The flower is bright yellow, but thin enough that there’s sunlight coming through it, and she’s set a haze of dirt in the wind so realistic I instinctively squint when I first look at it. The sky is the perfect shade of blue. She’s not painting a sunrise or sunset, no magical melding of jewel tones.

This is the desert in midday, captured in its ordinary, dusty beauty. Tiny red flowers on a spindly stem, a white butterfly, brown and gray rocks. There’s a pair of chipmunks I almost miss, so lifelike they look like they may run across the canvas any second. Every detail is so perfect it almost looks like a photograph. She’s really good. And I really want this painting.

Gran mostly did watercolors. Her art is beautiful, but it presents the world the way you might want to see it, soft and full of illusion. Tawny’s work is all stark reality. No illusions, almost commanding of attention. Look at this. See these things. Appreciate them.

“Are you going to sell this piece?”

“With any luck.”

“Someone will buy it. Do you mind if I ask the price?”

She sets her brush down, but she doesn’t turn to look at me. “I never set a price until a piece is done.”

“Oh. Well, I’d love a chance to consider this one when you’re ready to put a price on it. I don’t know that I could afford it, but I really love it, and the sooner I know the cost, the sooner I can start figuring out a way to buy it because I’m pretty sure I’m going to think it’s worth whatever you’re asking.”

“I wouldn’t want you to put yourself in a bind over it. That wouldn’t feel right to me, sweetie.”

“You forget that an artist helped raise me. I wouldn’t see this painting as an expenditure. I’d see it as an investment, and not just financially. It makes me feel. I don’t care what anyone says, sometimes, happiness can be bought.”

Leo clears his throat. “Amen.”

Tawny just nods.

I leave them to get back to their work. A part of me wishes I’d never seen that painting because it feels like it’s already mine, but I have no idea what Tawny’s work sells for.

It may be nap time for the Spirit Sisters, and I don’t want to disturb their rest. If Josephine’s around, I bet she’ll be happy to have one of these muffins.

Cujo’s bike is parked in front of her casita. Yeah, I’m not knocking on her door when he’s there. She doesn’t knock on mine if she knows Jensen is over. I wouldn’t mind as he’s leaving, though, just long enough to casually bring up tattoos. Inconspicuously, of course.

Zara is going to love the coffee shop Tawny and Leo provide. There is so much about this place that is clearly her vibe. I see it more and more since she said she wanted to come visit.

Shit. I never cleared that with anyone. Maybe Petra wants a muffin this afternoon.

I keep walking past my casita and Josephine’s, around the corner to Petra’s. She’s going to get tired of seeing me on her doorstep.

As soon as I walk up, I hear the door bang on her hothouse around back. She sees me coming and shakes her head. I hold up the muffins covered in clear plastic wrap. “I come bearing baked goods.”

“I don’t take bribes.”

“Well, hopefully, I don’t need to bribe you. But I do need to confess something.”

“Do I need to sit down for this?”

“How upset would you be if I invited a friend to come visit me?”

“Are you asking for permission or forgiveness?”

“Ummmm . . .”

“Is this a male friend? Am I going to need to keep Stinger extra busy while your friend is here?”

“No. It’s a woman. And we are just friends. Zara really wants to see Ivydell. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“This is the thing that makes you worry? Inviting a friend to come visit? You don’t think twice about taking it upon yourself to repaint signs or about making plans for a website nobody asked for, but this has you worried.”

“This involves someone else’s feelings. I wouldn’t want Zara to get the impression she wasn’t welcome. She’d feel terrible, and so would I.”

Petra smiles. “It’s fine, Ivy. Your friend is welcome to come visit. How long is she staying?”

“Four days. She took a week off, but she insists on driving, so she’ll need two days for travel.”

“She’s welcome to stay in any of the unoccupied casitas you think she might like. Just let me know and we’ll get it ready for her. To be clear, by we, I mean you.”

“I assumed she’d just stay with me.”

“You and Stinger can go four days without each other?”

“I hadn’t thought about him in any of this. But Zara won’t care if I see Jensen while she’s here.”

“Think about that before you decide. Plus, she might like to have her own space. To get the whole experience.”

“That’s true. The next thing we know, she’ll probably be moving out here full-time, and I’ll be the only one going back home.”

Petra’s bright expression darkens. I don’t think she likes talking about me leaving.

“What kind of muffins are those?”

“They have cranberries, blueberries, pecans, sunflower seeds—”

“Just give me one. I’ll waste away over here waiting for you to read me the ingredients list.”

I unwrap the muffins and hand her one. “When I offered to help with the festival, I didn’t just mean with the overall prep work. If you need any help getting your stuff ready, you know where to find me.”

“You know how to distill tinctures?”

“No. But I can pour liquid through a funnel to fill bottles. Put labels on them. That kind of thing. And if you have the time and patience, I can probably learn how to do more.”

“If you’ve got the inclination to learn, you let me know. In the meantime, I’ll keep you in mind for bottling duties. Ask your friend if she’d like to stay in her own casita. I won’t charge her anything. Don’t go telling anybody else I said that.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“Walk through my casita on your way out. There are some soaps on the table. Take one. Let me know what you think.”

“I didn’t know you made soap, too.”

“I’ve got to use up all these herbs somehow.”

“You should make candles. I know how to do that.”

“I don’t have supplies for making candles.”

“You can get wicks and beeswax online. It can be softened with coconut oil so it’ll burn more evenly and hold scent longer. And you don’t need fancy jars; You can use small mason jars or silicone ice molds if you don’t want to put them in jars at all.”

“It doesn’t take you long to turn a thought into a project, does it?”

“You said you had excess herbs to use up. I just like to help.”

“I know.”

“How are you packaging your soaps?”

“I was just planning on putting them all in a basket and letting people pick what they liked.”

“Petra! You’re not serious, right? Packaging has a huge impact on people’s buying decisions. It can be simple, but it needs to be something. You could wrap them in wax paper. Secure it with twine and add some dried herbs for decoration with a cute little handwritten tag to label the scents.”

“That sounds like a project you’d be great at.”

“Oh, you don’t even know how irresistible they would be when I got done with them.”

“Fine. You are my official soap packaging designer.”

“Don’t forget about the candles.”

“I never committed to candles.”

“Candles hardly require any commitment at all.”

“Okay, Patrice, Junior.”

“Ha! My mom calls me that, sometimes.”

“You don’t say?” She takes a bite of her muffin.

I check out her soaps before I go. They smell incredible. I’m already thinking up names for them. She was probably going to label them with their literal scents, but these need creative names like Mystical Mint, Lavender Lullaby, and Me Thyme . . . I’ve got this. It’s a good thing I came over when I did.