Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
OLIVE
W hy did I agree to this?
I’m the type of person who needs to know what I’m walking into. Don’t text and ask if you can call me. Tell me what we’re talking about or I’m not answering.
I was so caught off guard last night when Jo asked me to come for dinner, and I blindly agreed.
I forgot to get details.
And now, I’m standing on their porch.
I’m standing on their porch, holding a pan of freshly baked pumpkin bars.
I’m standing on their porch, holding a pan of freshly baked pumpkin bars, and I’m having second thoughts.
I haven’t spoken to Jo outside of the Christmas Kick-Off party for years. Despite our best intentions, I didn’t stay in touch with Liam or Lacey—or their parents.
I did date one of Liam’s good friends for a short while, but oddly, when we went out, even in groups, Liam was never there. Now I wonder if he just grew up to be a different kind of person than the kid I remember.
Maybe rude is his personality now .
I’m still processing this and pep-talking myself when the door opens.
Liam is staring at me. He doesn’t say anything.
Yep. Rude.
“Hey!” I force myself to sound more cheerful than I feel. “I was just getting ready to ring the doorbell.”
If it’s possible to over-smile, I do.
He doesn’t. “You’ve been standing out here for three minutes.”
I raise a brow. “Were you watching me out the window or something, creeper?”
He looks flummoxed for a second. Point for me.
“Your nose is red,” he says flatly.
“Well. As you know I’ve been standing here for three whole minutes and it’s freezing.” I watch him. “A polite person would invite me inside.”
He gives me a quizzical look, probably wondering why I didn’t ring the bell sooner, but I’m thankful he doesn’t ask.
I hold up the dish. “I made pumpkin bars. Felt wrong to show up empty-handed, even though I have no idea why I’m here.” I say that last part quietly under my breath.
He looks at me.
“I’m still outside, Liam.”
“Oh! Yeah, sorry. . .”
He moves out of the doorway, and I step inside. I swipe my stocking cap off and hold it over my cold nose for a second, letting the hot air from my lungs warm it up then set the pumpkin bars down on the entryway table. When I shrug out of my coat, I give my simple green sweater and jeans a quick once-over, hoping they’re appropriate, then slip my low boots off as Liam reaches for my coat. I turn but don’t let go of it right away.
“I’m not going to steal it,” he says dryly. “Pink isn’t my color.”
A slight joke. Maybe not as rude as I thought ?
I let go, and he stuffs the stocking cap into the sleeve, then hangs the coat in the front closet.
“Olive!” Jo calls out as she walks into the small space by the front door, followed by a lumbering yellow lab. “You’re here!”
The dog runs an excited circle around me, and I lean down to pet its head. Liam’s family always had a dog, and my family never did. The thought makes me wonder why I haven’t gotten one now that I’m an adult. I feel like a dog person.
“This is Hank,” Jo says, and then switching to baby talk she adds, “he’s such a good boy.”
“He’s so sweet.” I kneel down and rub Hank’s ears as he pushes his face into my chest. I laugh, but then I turn to Liam and see his deadpan face.
He probably doesn’t like dogs either. What a sourpuss.
Thank God Jo is here. Someone other than Liam to talk to. I don’t know what his problem is, but I suddenly don’t feel bad that I didn’t keep in touch with him. I can’t believe Phoebe gushed the entire way home from the party last night about how hot he is now.
I didn’t object. Maybe I should’ve. Sorry, but rude people are not attractive. Even when their face looks like Liam’s.
“Why do you think they want you to come over?” Phoebe had asked. “Do you think Jo’s trying to set you guys up?”
“By inviting me to a dinner at their house?” I’d asked. “No. It’s got to be something else. Plus, he’s not really my type.”
“Please. How do you even know that?”
I shrugged. “Eh . . . gut feeling.” I’d prefer to date someone who makes better conversation than a cadaver.
“Right, because your gut has never been wrong before.”
I took her point because I do seem to have a knack for picking the wrong guys. That started all the way back in high school, and it seems I’ve just never gotten the hang of it.
“Thank you so much for having me, Mrs. Fisher.” I reach across Liam for the pan of pumpkin bars that I’d set on the table next to the coat closet.
“You’re an adult, and we’re practically family,” she says. “Call me Jo.”
Practically family is a stretch. Maybe before they moved, but now? Almost twenty years later? I’m an acquaintance at best. Though, I suppose there is something about the people who knew you when you were becoming who you are that makes them always feel like family.
I hold up the pan. “I made pumpkin bars.”
“Oh, my goodness.” Jo takes them. “Cream cheese frosting?”
I nod. “Is there any other kind?”
“Your mother’s recipe?”
“My grandma’s actually, but Mom always leaves that part out.”
Jo laughs, then glances at Liam, and her smile falls away. “What is wrong with you? Why do you look so serious?”
His frown deepens, something I never thought possible. “I don’t.”
“He does, doesn’t he, Olive?”
I meet his eyes. “Yep. Like a grumpy statue.”
I clock the tiniest raise of his eyebrow, and then Jo loops her arm through mine and tugs me toward the kitchen. “Lacey will want to say hi.” Then, over her shoulder, looking back at Liam, she adds, “She remembers how to smile.”
I can practically feel him roll his eyes.
I walk into the kitchen as Hank plunks down in the doorway and see Lacey standing on the other side of a large island. When she sees me, her face brightens. “Olive! Hi!” She walks around the island and pulls me into a tight hug. “Oh my gosh, it’s been forever!”
Lacey and her brother could not be more opposite. Unlike Liam, she’s got a sunshiny demeanor, and I know this because I am one of her many—many—social media followers .
“I don’t feel like it’s been that long because I keep up with you on Instagram,” I say. “I cannot believe your whole life is traveling the country in that van.” I grin. “I saw it outside. Can I get a tour later?”
“Of course, you can!” Lacey goes back to chopping vegetables. “We’ll totally go for a ride.”
“Can I help?” I nod at the carrots, feeling slightly out of place. I need something to do with my hands.
“It’s all ready,” Jo says. “We kept it simple since we just did the big dinner thing.”
I hear a loud noise from somewhere in the house, a mix of a groan and something being thrown.
Jo and Lacey roll their eyes. “The Bears game is on,” Jo says.
“Apparently, they’re supposed to be good this year.” Lacey tucks the carrot sticks on the vegetable tray, then walks it over to a long counter covered with other dishes.
We exchange all the typical catching up, small talk pleasantries, and I really just want to ask what I’m doing there. At their family Thanksgiving.
But I chicken out, and before I know it, I’m sitting around a beautifully decorated table, passing dishes and trying to think of something—anything—to say.
There’s an odd tension in the air, and I’m not sure why.
“So, Olive, tell us about your work,” Jo says. “I know you had that cute, little shop downtown for a while. I was so sorry to hear what happened.”
I turn briefly to see Liam looking at me. It’s not hard to let myself believe he has no idea about my failed business, and I really would’ve loved to keep it that way. Everyone around here, it seems, associates me with bankruptcy and failure, even though I did not go bankrupt.
No such luck there. I simply lost the money my grandparents gave me, and now I’m still digging myself out of that debt.
I take a drink of water and clear my throat. “Yeah. That. ”
Lacey jumps in, a kind savior. “Oh, she doesn’t have to talk about it if she doesn’t want to.”
I offer a weak, grateful smile, and say, “No, it’s okay. I did have a shop for a couple of years.” I swallow. Is it hot in here? “Still recovering from that, I suppose, but now, I, uh, work at the coffee shop. And do odd jobs.” I scrunch my nose. “I’m figuring it out.”
My face flames. I’m embarrassed. It’s hard to admit that the girl voted “Most Likely to Succeed” by her senior class grew up to be a giant flakey disaster.
“But Olive, you’re an artist ,” Lacey says, as if talking about dreams and utopia. “I follow you on social media too.”
I absentmindedly push my mashed potatoes around on my plate. “Oh, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“You should totally share more of your work—your process, the design, the behind the scenes would be fascinating.”
“Lacey, sweetheart,” Jo says with a laugh. “Give her a break.”
Lacey shrugs. “Sorry. She’s really good. I think her account could be a lot bigger.”
“Thanks for that.” I smile at the compliment, trying to think of the last time I posted anything on social media. The last time I created. I come up empty. I haven’t had time. I don’t have time. I’m too busy working every odd job I can find to try and pay back the loan.
“You’ve always been so creative,” Jo says. “I am sorry the shop didn’t work out.”
I shrug. “I tried, right?”
“Will you try again?” Brant asks.
I draw in a breath. “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe? It was, you know . . . a lot.”
That’s putting it nicely. It was brutal. There’s nothing quite as depressing as watching a dream die. And while I don’t say so, I can’t imagine trying again .
Liam looks vaguely interested. Or maybe that’s his default setting now.
I happen to know—thanks to my mom—that he has been very successful professionally, so I’m guessing my failure seems pretty ridiculous to him. He’s probably someone who actually understands things like numbers. Someone who probably would’ve been smart enough to listen to everyone who said not to rush into starting a business before he was ready.
Or to everyone who said not to pursue a degree in art in the first place.
Unlike me.
“Do you miss it at all?” Lacey asks.
I set my fork down, unsure why I am the topic of conversation and really wanting to go outside to get some air. “Sometimes? Kind of?” I would love to change the subject, but I’m not sure how. “Do you mind if I use the bathroom?”
Jo’s eyes go wide. “No, of course not. It’s right down the hall.”
I push my chair away from the table and force myself to smile, despite the uneasy feeling rumbling in my chest.
As I walk down the hall, I hear Liam say, “Way to go.”
“What?” That’s Lacey.
“You’re freaking her out,” he says. “She obviously doesn’t want to talk about that stuff.”
“We’re just making conversation,” Jo says.
“Maybe we should just get to why she’s here, then.”
They go quiet, and my skin prickles at possibly being caught eavesdropping. I continue down the hall, slowing to look at the gallery of framed family photos neatly hung on the wall.
There’s a picture of Liam and Lacey as kids, standing in the back of the trusty, old, red Ford pickup truck with the Pine Creek logo on the side. Another one of the entire family, posed in front of the Pleasant Valley Christmas tree, which they provide for the town tree lighting every year. I lean in closer to one of the collage frames and that’s when I see it—a photo of me and Liam, standing in the treehouse our dads had built right along the property line between our houses.
All at once, I’m a younger version of myself, trying to sort out the big feelings only a twelve-year-old can have, about my best friend moving away and going to a new school. Pine Creek felt like the other side of the world at that age.
Liam wouldn’t have the bedroom facing mine anymore. We wouldn’t be able to shine flashlights into each other’s windows just to say hi. He wouldn’t be twenty-eight steps from my front door.
We counted.
He was going to be way further away than twenty-eight steps, and I didn’t know how to process that.
I remember the way he and I hid in the treehouse the day the moving van showed up in their driveway. As if our parents might not be able to find us. As if the van might pull away without him. He reached out and swiped a tear from my cheek, and then, in the sweetest, most innocent way, he leaned in and kissed me.
My first kiss.
The kiss by which I measure all other kisses, even though neither of us had any idea what we were doing.
It wasn’t about the kiss, which was tender and awkward and perfect, so much as the way it made me feel. Like I was something special to someone, something worth remembering. Like he was going to miss me as much as I was going to miss him.
I’d given him my most prized possession—a four leaf clover I’d found on one of our hunts. I’d been so shocked I’d finally found one, and he’d been a little jealous. But now, I wanted him to have it. I thought it would keep him from forgetting me.
If you’d asked me at twelve if there would ever come a day where he wasn’t a part of my life, I would’ve answered with an emphatic “no way.” Liam was one of the best people I knew. And just when my feelings for him began to shift, he was gone, and I never got a chance to find out what we could’ve been.
I mentally shake off the memories like cobwebs from your gloves when you’re cleaning out the attic. It was silly. Kid’s stuff. A childhood crush. And yet, staring at this photo, all those hazy memories come into focus, and it feels like it was something more.
“You okay?”
I startle and turn toward Liam’s voice. Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Uh, yeah, sorry.”
He looks down the hall, seeing that I haven’t made it to the bathroom.
I shrug. “I didn’t really have to go.”
He nods, but doesn’t say anything. At this moment, I actually don’t mind it.
He takes a step toward me, glancing up at the photo collage. “Feels like forever ago.”
I smile. “Right? Forever and a lifetime.” So much had happened in the years since that photo was taken.
And in those years, the boy I knew had become a stranger.
Does he remember it all the same way I do?
“Listen, whatever she’s about to ask you, just remember you can say no,” he says abruptly. “They have a way of making it seem like you can’t.”
And then he walks away.
I frown. I follow him back into the dining room.
“Everything okay?” Jo asks.
“Yep,” I say, taking my seat. “I just—I have to be honest. I’m not sure what I’m doing here.”
Jo and Brant exchange a quick glance, and then she turns to me. “Olive, we’re selling Pine Creek.”
A chill runs down my spine.
Lacey straightens and Liam avoids my eyes.
“Wait. What? ”
Jo reaches over and takes Brant’s hand. “It’s time.”
My eyes pinball around the table. “Time?”
They smile at each other, almost looking resigned to the decision. “We think we might look at some opportunities elsewhere.”
“You’re moving? To where?”
Brant looks at his wife. “We’re not sure. We’re looking into a few things, but we know we want to travel more, while we’re still young enough to enjoy it. We’re ready for the next adventure.”
“I’m not hungry.” Lacey pushes her chair back from the table and storms out of the room.
“She’s . . . adjusting to the idea,” Jo says when Lacey’s out of earshot.
There’s an uncomfortable pause, and I glance at Liam. He’s pushing food around on his plate like a child getting a stern talking to, and I want to ask if he’s okay. This is a really big deal.
But more than that, I’m wondering— “How do I fit in?”
Jo’s smile is warm. “Well, I want you to help us make this the very best Pine Creek Christmas ever. We want to go out on a high note.” She looks at Brant who smiles. They’re resolute.
They’re really doing this.
“Okay,” I say tentatively. “How can I help?”
There’s a shift in the room, like after you acknowledge the elephant in the corner, you invite it over to sit with you for a spell. “I was at your store’s grand opening, Olive. I know you know how to plan an event. You’re creative and smart and artistic and Liam can help with the farm side of things.”
At that, my mouth goes dry. She wants me to work with Liam on this?
“I’m not an event planner,” I say. “I. . .I draw things.” And I want to remind her that my business failed. Is she sure she wants to put this in my hands? It feels important.
“We were hoping you’d think about it,” she says. “Brainstorm some ideas so we can come out in full force. We’ve already got our usual things happening at the farm—Santa’s Village, the Christmas shop, and the hot chocolate shed—but we want more events. A packed calendar. More reasons for people to come out here.”
“But it’s two days after Thanksgiving,” I say dumbly. Because really—it’s two days after Thanksgiving—that doesn’t give us a lot of time for getting the word out.
She winces. “It’s short notice, I know. This is all happening rather quickly.”
“It’s crazy,” Liam says, suddenly and a bit forcefully. “It’s a crazy idea. We should just cut our losses and get it on the market. Packing the calendar full of a bunch of events isn’t going to change anything. It’s just going to drag everything out.”
He’s right, but he gets zero points for subtlety. I wonder if he’s given the chip on his shoulder a pet name.
Jo looks at him, warmth in her expression. “Liam. This is how we want to say goodbye. We want the people of this town to have a chance to come out here and experience the magic of Pine Creek one more time.”
I’m not looking at Liam, but I hear his sigh.
“What do you think, Olive? Do you want some seasonal work?” Jo asks.
“Wait. This is like, a job?” I ask out loud, really wishing someone would crack a joke to lighten the air in here.
Jo picks up her water. “Yes, of course! We wouldn’t ask you to lend us your creativity and artistic talent for free.”
I still have so many questions. “But, with the . . . it’s not . . . can I just . . . why me?”
She gives me a slight shrug. “When I saw you at the Christmas Kick-Off, I remembered how much joy you always have coming here year after year. You understand Pine Creek like you’re a part of the family. And I know you love this holiday as much as I do. ”
Well, that’s all true. I do love Pine Creek and Christmas. Although I might’ve preferred not to deck the halls with the Hawaiian Christmas sweater.
It was nice of her to see that.
Liam stands and picks up his plate. Before leaving, he nods at mine. I look up and smile, nod back, and he takes my plate for me. He silently walks into the kitchen, and his dad follows suit, leaving Jo and me alone at the table.
I draw in a breath. “Okay—” But a wave of uncertainty washes over me. Yes, I’m creative, and yes, I’m an artist, but this is a lot of pressure given how important this place is to our community, to this family . . . to me.
They really think I’m the best person for this job?
“I sense hesitation,” Jo says, with a half-smile.
My hands feel icy. I rub them together, but it doesn’t help. “I just don’t want to let you down. This is a big deal.”
She scoots over one chair so she’s right next to me. “I have a good feeling about this, Olive. I need fresh eyes on this place. Someone who knows how to highlight all the things that make Pine Creek special. Someone who’s good with people, someone—honestly—a bit younger than me, and someone who can get buy-in from the community.”
“And that’s me?” I ask. “The community isn’t about to jump on my bandwagon, not after my shop tanked.”
She looks at me, kindness in her eyes. “You only fail if you don’t learn from your mistakes.”
Wise words that clearly come from experience.
“You have a lot to offer this town, Olive,” Jo continues. “Maybe I’m selfish that I want to steal a little of it for Pine Creek.”
Unfortunately, I’m still not sure I can pull this off.
Also unfortunately, my head is already spinning with ideas.
This venue is phenomenal, and I won’t tell Jo this, but they could be doing so much more here. There are a million ways to expand, to bring people in.
“I just want people to have a chance to say a meaningful goodbye,” she says, quietly. “And maybe if we get the word out, the perfect next owner will walk through our doors.”
I study her, the bittersweet sadness clear in her expression. “Are you sure you want to sell?” I ask, because I can’t not ask. “I mean, what about Liam and Lacey? Would they take it over like you guys did?”
Jo covers my hand with her own, and her expression shifts. “One thing I’ve learned, Olive,” she says, “is that you can’t make someone do something they don’t want to do. Or love something they don’t want to love. Especially your kids,” she says with a rueful chuckle. “Not if you want to keep your relationship.” She pats my hand. “What do you think? Are you up for this?”
I draw in a breath. I haven’t created anything in months. Not since I closed the door on Wit and Whimsy over two years ago.
It feels daunting. And big.
But Pine Creek matters to me. This family matters to me. The magic they’re talking about—I’ve felt that. Everyone who’s been here has felt that.
Core memories are carved here.
I have to at least try. “Okay,” I say, summoning my courage or my stupidity, depending on where you sit. “When do we start?”