Chapter 4 Ivy
IVY
Ivy adjusted the wreath hanging on the bakery’s door, stepping back to admire the way the red ribbon caught in the light.
It was just past dawn, and Hollyridge was beginning to stir, the sound of shovels scraping snow off sidewalks drifting through the still air.
She loved this time of morning, the quiet before the rush, when the streets were calm and peaceful, and the bakery still smelled of last night’s fresh-baked bread.
The doorbell chimed, and Ivy turned to greet her first customer of the day—Mrs. Fischer, bundled in her thick wool coat and scarf. She carried the scent of cold air and pine needles with her as she stepped inside, stomping the snow off her boots.
“Morning, Ivy,” Mrs. Fischer said with a warm smile. “My, don’t you have the coziest little place in town.”
“Morning, Mrs. Fischer.” Ivy smiled back, quickly wiping her hands on her apron. “Cold out there?”
“Oh, it’s freezing, but the storm’s let up, thank goodness,” she said, glancing out the window where the world sparkled in crisp sunlight. “I suppose that means you’ll have company again.”
Ivy blinked, confused. “Company?”
Mrs. Fischer chuckled. “Haven’t you heard? Everyone’s talking about how that city woman—what’s her name? Celeste Winters—was seen helping at the Christmas market. People are mighty curious about her. Fancy CEO out here building gingerbread houses with the kids.”
Ivy’s stomach fluttered at the mention of Celeste’s name. “I hadn’t heard,” she lied, turning to adjust the display of sugar cookies to distract her hands. She could feel Mrs. Fischer’s eyes on her, sharp with curiosity.
“Well, I’ll tell you something,” Mrs. Fischer continued, leaning in conspiratorially. “Folks are wondering what she’s doing here. And with you, no less. You know how people talk.”
Ivy pressed her lips together, trying to keep her voice steady. “She’s just stuck here because of the storm. Nothing more.”
Mrs. Fischer flashed her a knowing smile. “Of course, dear. But I’d keep an eye on her if I were you. Big-city types, they don’t usually stay in places like Hollyridge without a reason.”
As Mrs. Fischer paid for her usual order of cinnamon rolls and left, the bell above the door chimed again, and soon, the bakery was filled with the buzz of morning chatter.
Every now and then, Ivy caught snatches of conversation—Celeste Winters this, Celeste Winters that—and each time, it sent a prickle of nerves down her spine.
Was everyone talking about her? About Celeste? About…us?
It wasn’t like there was an “us,” Ivy reminded herself. Celeste had made that clear. She wasn’t here for the town, and she definitely wasn’t here for Ivy.
And yet…Ivy couldn’t shake the image of Celeste at the Christmas market, surrounded by children, her cool exterior softening in the glow of twinkling lights. It’d been a sight Ivy never expected, and one that, despite herself, she couldn’t stop thinking about.
Later that evening, Ivy sat on the floor of her living room with Ellie, sorting through a box of ornaments for the Christmas tree.
The room was warm, the fire crackling in the hearth as they worked together, and the soft glow of the lights on the tree filled the space with a cozy warmth.
Outside, the snow had stopped falling, but the world remained blanketed in white.
Ellie was carefully putting each ornament on the tree with utmost care, her little hands steady as she chose the perfect branch for each one.
“Mommy, look!” she exclaimed, holding up a glittering star. “It’s the one Grandma gave us last year.”
Ivy smiled, feeling a bittersweet tug at her heart. “That’s right, sweetheart. Why don’t you put it right there at the top?”
As Ellie stood on her tiptoes, reaching up to place the star, Ivy’s thoughts drifted.
She could still feel the weight of the town’s gossip lingering in the back of her mind, like a shadow she couldn’t shake.
People were curious about Celeste, rightfully so, but what would they think if they knew how much Ivy had been thinking about her?
Too much, she scolded herself. She’s only here for a few days. Don’t get attached.
But then there was a soft knock on the door, and Ivy’s heart jumped in her chest.
She stood quickly and moved to answer the door. Celeste stood there, her long black coat contrasting sharply with the soft, homey warmth of the living room. She was holding a small wrapped gift, and Ivy couldn’t help but to raise an eyebrow.
“What’s this?” Ivy asked, stepping aside to let her in.
“I brought something for Ellie,” Celeste replied, her voice softer than usual. “I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”
Ivy blinked in surprise and nodded, feeling her heart soften just a little. Maybe there’s more to this woman than the Ice Queen facade.
Ellie, oblivious to the tension, squealed with delight as she ran over to them. “A present? For me?”
“Open it,” Celeste said, offering a rare smile that lit up her features in a way that left Ivy momentarily speechless.
Ellie tore into the wrapping paper, revealing a beautiful set of miniature Christmas village figurines—tiny houses, trees, and little people that looked like they belonged in a winter wonderland. Ellie’s eyes widened in wonder.
“Oh, it’s so pretty!” she exclaimed, turning to Ivy. “Mommy, look! Can we set it up?”
Ivy’s throat tightened as she looked from Ellie’s shining eyes to Celeste’s soft expression. “Of course we can, sweetheart,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
As they gathered around the coffee table to arrange the miniature village, Ellie chattered excitedly, her joy filling the room.
Celeste, normally composed, seemed to relax in the warm glow of the fireplace, her fingers gently adjusting the tiny figures with a level of care Ivy hadn’t expected she was capable of.
After a while, as they sat back to admire their work, Ellie looked up at Celeste with wide, curious eyes. “What do you want for Christmas?”
The question hung in the air, the crackling fire the only sound as Celeste froze, her gaze flickering to Ivy before settling back on Ellie. For a moment, Ivy saw something shift in Celeste’s expression—a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before.
“I’m not sure,” Celeste said quietly. “I haven’t thought about it in a long time.”
Ellie tilted her head, her brow furrowing in confusion. “But everyone wants something for Christmas.”
Celeste’s lips pressed into a thin line, and Ivy could feel the tension creeping back into the room. She reached out, resting a hand on Ellie’s shoulder.
“Maybe Celeste doesn’t need anything this year,” Ivy said gently, giving Celeste a small, reassuring smile.
Celeste met Ivy’s gaze, her eyes softening for a moment before she nodded. “Maybe.”
And as the fire crackled and the snow fell gently outside, Ivy couldn’t help but wonder what Celeste really wanted—and why a part of her was starting to care so much about finding out.
As the warmth of the fire flickered and the delicate glow of the Christmas lights cast a soft halo around the room, Ellie’s excitement finally began to wane.
The little girl, full of energy just moments before, now yawned as she cuddled up on the couch, her eyelids fluttering with the telltale signs of sleep.
Ivy glanced at the clock and smiled to herself.
It had been a long day for Ellie, filled with the thrill of decorating, the surprise gift from Celeste, and the magic of the holiday season.
Kneeling beside her daughter, Ivy gently brushed a strand of hair from Ellie’s face, her voice soft as she spoke.
“Time for bed, sweetheart,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss Ellie’s forehead. The little girl blinked up at her with drowsy eyes, the last remnants of energy fading fast.
“Will Celeste still be here tomorrow?” Ellie asked sleepily, her voice muffled as she nestled further into the cushions.
Ivy’s heart gave a small, unexpected flutter at the question, and she hesitated for a moment before answering. “Maybe, Ellie. We’ll see.”
Ellie nodded, already half asleep, and within moments, she drifted off, her small form sinking deeper into the plush couch. Ivy stood and carefully scooped up her daughter, carrying her to her bedroom. She could feel Celeste’s gaze on her as she moved, the intensity of it prickling along her skin.
Once Ellie was settled under the blankets, Ivy quietly closed the door behind her, pausing for a moment in the hallway to collect her thoughts.
The house felt still—too still—and the weight of the evening’s unspoken emotions pressed against her chest. When she finally returned to the living room, she found Celeste standing by the window, staring out at the softly falling snow.
Ivy’s breath caught at the sight of her. In the warm glow of the room, Celeste’s sharp features were softened, and there was something vulnerable, almost wistful, about the way she gazed out into the night.
“She’s asleep,” Ivy said softly, stepping into the room. Her voice seemed to break the quiet spell, and Celeste turned to face her, her expression unreadable.
“She’s a sweet kid,” Celeste murmured, her voice quieter than Ivy had ever heard it. There was a note something—something unguarded, almost—beneath her words, and it tugged at Ivy in ways she wasn’t sure she was ready to admit.
“She likes you,” Ivy said, folding her arms across her chest as she moved closer, her pulse quickening despite herself. “I think…I think you surprised you. Surprised both of us, really.”
Celeste’s lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m not used to this,” she admitted after a moment, her voice barely audible. “The quiet. The warmth. It’s…different.”