Chapter 38
CHAPTER 38
OLIVE
I ’m trying not to look at the calendar or keep track of the days of the week or think about how the holiday season is already coming to an end.
All the warnings in the world weren’t enough to stop me from A. falling in love with Liam and B. falling in love with Pine Creek.
I don’t want to say goodbye to either one.
My job is wrapping up, but that hasn’t stopped the ideas from exploding. It’s sad to think I’ll never get to implement most of them.
I stop by The Beanery on my way to work, thinking that soon I’ll need to ask them to put me back on the schedule. As I wait for my drink, I spot Lacey sitting at the same table where we dreamt up the plan to save the farm, working on her laptop. She glances up and waves at me.
I grab my mocha and walk over to her.
Her smile is sad. “I don’t think it worked.”
I sit across from her. “The collective?”
She nods. “I’m here because my dad is meeting with the buyer and your gross ex-boyfriend right now, and I couldn’t risk running into them.”
I let my disgust show on my face. “Okay, let’s call him your parents’ gross Realtor and not link me to him. I had to be delusional to ever think he was a decent human being.”
She sighs. “The PV council doesn’t want to take it on. They love the thought, but don’t have room in their budget for what would essentially be a gift, especially to a business that’s not a non-profit. The people I’ve reached out to are sympathetic, but not willing or able to invest. We need money, not thoughts and prayers.”
I take a drink, wishing I could wave a magic wand and make this all okay. For everyone. But I can’t. “I’m sorry, Lace.”
She blows out a huff of emotion. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. It’s just hitting me, I guess, that it’s really, truly happening. I’m really losing Pine Creek.”
I want to say, “We all are,” but I don’t because I know this loss is ten times worse for her than it is for me.
“Oh, I did some work on a social strategy for you.” She turns her laptop around.
“What?” I pull her laptop closer and look at the screen. On it, Lacey has outlined ideas for at least three months’ worth of content to help me build an audience online.
“I mean, you’ll have to get your website back online and updated, but I think we could plan for a specific launch and build excitement for that.”
I scroll through her ideas, gobsmacked at how well-planned out it all is. “Lacey, this is amazing.” I look up. “But I’m not great on social media.”
She waves me off. “That’s what I’m here for. I can help you with all of that.”
I press my lips together. “So, you’re going to stay around? Even without the farm?”
She nods. “Yeah. I want roots, Olive. I need some time off the road. I don’t know where my parents are going yet—I don’t even think they know—but I know I belong here.”
I smile. “I’m so glad. We can do girls’ nights and spa days.”
“And get you back to making art,” she adds.
Heat rushes to my face. “First, I need to dig myself out of debt. My parents aren’t charging interest, but I don’t feel right launching something else until I pay them back.”
“Well, working here with Jackson isn’t going to get you there.” She levels my gaze. “Olive, use your gift. You’re a little older and a lot wiser now. Plus, you have me. A social media genius with zero education and a double dose of grit. And Phoebe, who you know will help with the numbers.”
And Liam, for a few days more , I think.
I chew the inside of my mouth. It’s not like she’s saying anything new, it’s just that now, I’m ready to hear it.
“Okay.”
Her eyes light up. “Yeah?”
“Let’s do it.” It’s time. Because she’s right. This season of my life has felt like a redirection, and it’s led me back to myself. “I’ll be smarter and more cautious this time, and really, I have nothing to lose.”
“Good, because I just emailed you the plans. Also, I want to hire you.” Lacey takes a giant bite of her breakfast sandwich, and I’m suddenly starving.
“You don’t have any dogs for me to walk.”
“Ha. Ha.” She rolls her eyes. “I need a logo.” She pulls her laptop back to her side of the table.
“A logo for what?” I take a sip of my drink. “And thank you for the plans.”
“I’m going to start my own social media consulting firm. Business? Company? What do I call it?” She laughs. “I have a lot of research to do.”
Now I laugh. “Well, I can definitely do that, but you’re not paying me for it. ”
“Eh . . . we’ll chat,” she says.
I nod and push my chair back, excited for the first time in a long time that I might actually get to make art again. As a job. I stand. “I’ll probably see you in a little while.”
“I’ll be back eventually.”
“And Lacey, I really am sorry this hasn’t gone the way we wanted it to.”
Her smile is sad. “We tried, right?”
As I drive out to the farm to check on all the details for the Christmas Eve Candlelight Walk, my mind wanders. I think about the events that have brought me here. Of course, I have regrets, but the mistakes and failures of the past, even ones in my personal life, have helped me get where I am today.
Yes, I took time off to hide myself away and walk dogs and make coffee. And yes, that meant sticking my gifts in a box and burying them in the garage.
But I don’t regret that time. I think I needed it to heal. To forgive myself.
That thought stops me as I make the turn into Pine Creek and drive to the office. I didn’t think I needed to forgive myself, but maybe I do. Maybe I’ve been holding a grudge against myself, punishing myself by withholding this thing I love so much simply because I didn’t feel like I deserve it.
I don’t want to do that anymore.
I’m smarter now, and I’m surrounded by people who want me to succeed. Who are willing to help make sure I do.
I finally, finally , feel ready to try again.
I park my car and pull the business card Phoebe gave me out of my pocket. Marisol Sanchez: Licensing Agent.
Normally, I would opt for email, but it’s a brave, new Olive Witherby.
“Go for Marisol.”
I’m taken aback. I didn’t realize people answered the phone like that in real life. “Uh, hi, is this Marisol? ”
“Marisol is in a meeting. Can I take a message?”
Of course this is an office number, and of course, she has an assistant. “Uh, yes.” Get a grip, Olive. You are a talented, smart, and creative woman. “Marisol left her card with my, uh . . . assistant this weekend, wanting to discuss possible representation?—”
“Please hold.”
I snap my jaw shut, confused, as elevator music starts playing in my ear. It’s a slowed-down, instrumental version of “Bye Bye Bye” by NSYNC, which is surprisingly catchy.
I look up as Travis and a smarmy-looking dude in a long, black dress coat exit the office. The guy immediately pulls out his phone, and Travis is smiling when he meets my eyes from across the small parking lot.
He lifts a hand in a wave, then trots over to my car.
Ugh. I could bye, bye, bye him.
He makes a motion for me to roll down the window.
Begrudgingly, I do.
“So close to closing this deal,” he says. “It’s a gem of an offer, too.”
My stomach rolls. “Bye Bye Bye” plays in my ear.
“You know,” he starts.
Before he even can finish, I blurt out, “I’m seeing someone, Travis.”
“Oh.” His eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
“Yes,” I say. “And even if I wasn’t, I’m not sure how much clearer I can make it that I would never, ever entertain the idea of wasting time on someone like you.”
“Well, okay.” It’s a woman’s voice in my ear, on the phone that I forgot I was holding. “Glad we got that cleared up.”
“Oh my gosh, no, Miss Sanchez—” I pull my attention away from Travis— “Mrs. Sanchez? Marisol? I didn’t mean you.” I wave Travis off and roll my window back up. “I’m sorry, that was just—never mind.”
“I like an assertive woman,” she says. “I hope you were telling off someone who deserved it and not talking to yourself in the mirror.”
I laugh. “Oh, I absolutely was telling off someone who deserved it,” I say. “Ex-boyfriend. Will not take a hint.”
I glance up and see Liam exit the office building with his dad. He looks so handsome in his jeans and that familiar coat that matches the one his dad is wearing. He’s wearing a baseball cap, which will do nothing to shield him from the cold, but looks crazy sexy.
“I assume this is Olive,” Marisol says. “I’ve been hoping you’d call.”
After my call with Marisol, who wants me to submit my designs to her as a formality ( what?! ) because she’s already seen my work and thinks I’ve got commercial appeal, ( the heck?!), I walk into the office where I find Jo, sitting alone at her desk in one of the offices near the back of the open space in the building.
I don’t have to be a detective to put the pieces together about the morning she’s had and how she’s feeling about it.
She looks up and smiles. It’s a sad smile, though she does seem genuinely happy to see me. “The candles for the walk arrived this morning.”
“Oh, good.” I sit in the seat across from her. I don’t know if she feels like talking to me, but I do hope she’s talking to someone. This change is going to be really emotional.
She reaches into the desk drawer and pulls out an envelope, sliding it across the desk in my direction.
I frown. “What’s this?”
“Christmas bonus,” she says. “Actually, it’s more of a market bonus.”
I meet her eyes .
“You did so much work to make that happen,” she says. “You earned it.”
I try not to think about how different my life would be if I’d started working here right out of college. Would being around Jo and the rest of the Pine Creek staff have been enough to take away the need to prove to everyone that my art was good enough? Would her belief in me have seeped down into my core and made me more patient?
I tuck the envelope inside my bag without looking at the check, thinking that whatever she gave me is going straight toward my debt.
“I saw you kissing my son, by the way.”
The comment catches me off guard. If I was drinking something, I would’ve spit it out all over her desk.
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m not sure if it was meant to be a secret, but neither one of you is very good at hiding anything.” Her smile isn’t sad anymore. “You seem like you really care about him.”
Just the thought of Liam is enough to make me smile. “I really, really do. I have . . . for a long time.”
“I think you’re good for each other,” she says. “And I hope you can find a way to make long distance work.”
My heart breaks a little.
“I’m rooting for you,” she adds.
“I’m rooting for us too.”
And with that, my stomach drops. It’s almost Christmas, which means he’s going to leave. I can’t pretend I’m going to be okay to just walk away after the holidays. A thought flits through my mind, something I hadn’t considered before.
Am I willing to uproot my whole life for him? Am I willing to move just to be close to him?
The quiet answer reaches my soul before it reaches my head, and I play the word over on a loop in my mind.
Yes .