Chapter 25
Ivy
“Hi, Ivy. Got a moment?”
I’m about to clock in for my shift at The Harmony Grove when Diana’s voice makes me come to a halt.
She’s a nice enough woman, but we don’t speak much other than when she answers my questions about cleaning supplies (she taught me that mixing bleach and vinegar is a massive no-no).
We’ve barely talked since she expressed her dislike for the illustrated calendars in front of Nash all those weeks ago.
I would like to think it wasn’t personal, and I’m trying not to take it that way. She’s my supervisor, and it would suck if she hated me for something as inconsequential as a calendar that has nothing to do with this job.
I give her an easy smile, turning to face her. “Sure.”
“I wanted to apologize,” she starts, catching me off guard. “What I said about the calendars wasn’t okay.”
“Oh, it’s all right,” I try to assure her, but she shakes her head.
“It’s not all right, Ivy. I judged your work before I saw it, and that’s not fair. Especially because I was so wrong about you.”
I hold my breath.
“The calendar is stunning,” she says, the emotion in her voice leaving no room to doubt she means every word.
“Well, and hot. Let’s not forget about that.
Drawings might not be the real thing, but it doesn’t matter because they’re so realistic, and vibrant, and fun.
I haven’t spoken to a single person who didn’t agree. ”
“That’s really sweet of you, Diana.”
“Well, it’s the truth. I’m sorry for questioning you and giving you a hard time. And I’m sorry for saying the younger generations ruin everything, because that’s clearly not true.”
“It’s okay. Really.” She might have been harsh before, but I don’t hold grudges. “Thank you for talking to me and clearing the air, though. I really appreciate it. I wasn’t even angry in the first place.”
“Apologizing when I’m wrong is the least I can do.” She nods to herself, then perks up. “Actually, I have a proposition for you.”
My pulse jumps. “A proposition?”
“My niece writes these fantasy novels, and they’re quite popular,” she says. “Let me show you.”
She grabs her phone from her back pocket and pulls up a social media page. At first, I read the username and no bells ring despite her large following. But then Diana scrolls down a bit and the cover of one of her books comes up, freezing me into place.
My throat has turned so dry, it hurts when I speak. “She’s your niece?”
“Sure is,” she declares proudly, and I can see why.
Her niece is a New York Times bestselling author whose books I’ve seen in every bookshop I’ve been to in the past couple of years.
I’m not a huge reader these days—I loved books growing up, and I still do, but I don’t have a lot of free time for hobbies—but I recognize the extremely popular fantasy book about a vampire and a witch.
I’m pretty sure Alma has read it and raved about it at the office.
“Anyway,” Diana continues, either oblivious to my astonishment or ignoring it, “I showed her the calendar because we both appreciate half-naked hot men—sue us—and she wants to know if you have any social media or email she can contact you through. She loves your style and would love to commission some character art for her upcoming book, if you’re up to the task. ”
Did I hit my head in the parking lot before coming in? Is this a hallucination?
“You’re kidding.” It’s not a question.
“I don’t joke about these things. It would be a paid job, of course. I can give you her email. Tell her Aunty Di relayed the message as promised.”
My head spins, and for a moment, I’m afraid I’ll pass out from the overwhelming sensation. This moment still doesn’t feel real when Nash walks up to us.
“Hey, you two. What’s up?” He pauses. “Ivy, are you okay? You’re going pale.”
I lock eyes with Ford’s younger brother, my boss, pretty sure my mouth is open in shock. He’s wearing his signature backward baseball hat and his usual smile too. Diana is still here, smiling as well, dressed in her work uniform. Everything is normal on the outside, but on the inside…
Something shifts.
“I would love to work with her,” I tell Diana decisively. “Thank you.”
“Attagirl. Let me grab a sticky note, and I’ll write down her email for you.”
“I’ll get the sticky note,” Nash quips. “I was just on the phone with the electrician, who’s rescheduled the inspection again, and I’m trying not to get too frustrated about it. So, what’s going on? I need some good news to cheer me up.”
Diana updates Nash on what’s just happened, and his face lights up in a way that reminds me of Lexi.
“You know what that means, right?” he asks me after grabbing a sticky note from his office.
“I’m scared to ask.” I eye him carefully, then Diana as she scribbles on the paper.
“You need to make a social media account, post your firefighter drawings, work with Diana’s niece, and blow the hell up. Just don’t forget about us peasants when you make it.”
I chuckle. “You’re being too optimistic about this.”
But he is the third person who’s told me to post my drawings online, and it’s starting to sound less daunting by the day.
A fourth person is added to the mix when Diana says, “Here’s her email.
And for sure, make an account. She’ll want to tag you, or whatever that’s called, and you will gain many followers very soon.
If you want to make money with this, it could be a good opportunity.
Social media is crucial these days. Don’t ask me why; it’s what my niece says. ”
Opening an account is officially on my to-do list. It feels like the right next step. There’s no harm in it—Joe does it for his planes—and I have nothing to lose.
Still, I refuse to get my hopes up. Even if Diana’s niece ends up working with me, there’s no guarantee that will lead to more clients. What if she hates my illustrations of her characters because I don’t do them justice? Anything could happen.
I’m not used to good things lasting. When a ray of sunlight filters through the cracks of my life, something else always comes up that shadows it.
Joe was born, and shortly after we lost our mom.
I got a job in high school to support myself and my brother, and all my friends left.
Our dad got it together, allowing me to move to New York City mostly guilt free. Then he got a DUI and turned our lives upside down.
I’m not being a party pooper when I choose to be cautious about this—just realistic.
I will start posting my work online, and I will reach out to Diana’s niece, but only because my gut is telling me to.
There’s no point in fantasizing about what could happen after that; I know I’ll be okay no matter what.
So, during my shift, I put on my headphones, tune in to my favorite paranormal podcast, and manage to put the conversation with Diana and Nash aside. Mostly.
My shift ends four hours later, and I text Joe that I’m on my way, just like I do every night in case he’s still up.
He doesn’t reply more than half of the time because he’s already asleep—or pretending to be—but it doesn’t matter.
I don’t want him to worry about his sister’s whereabouts if I can prevent it, no matter how safe Harmony Hills is.
By the time I get home, I’m so exhausted and distracted by Diana’s offer that I don’t immediately notice something is wrong.
I don’t notice that Joe’s favorite sneakers are gone, or that there’s a puffer jacket missing on the hanger, or that there’s no light coming from under his door even though he always falls asleep watching videos on his computer.
I write my daily note telling him that I got home, and it’s not until I head into his bedroom to place it on his nightstand that everything comes crashing down.
Joe’s bed is empty.
Bile rises to my throat. I stumble on my way out of his bedroom, checking every corner of our house, but there’s no sign of my brother.
My hands shake while I dial his number, but it sends me straight to voicemail. Why is his phone turned off?
My head spins, and I have to brace myself on the kitchen counter. Don’t faint, for fuck’s sake. Not now. Think.
The room keeps spinning behind my eyelids when I shut my eyes, trying to remember if Joe said anything about being at Ethan’s house. He’s been going there to study pretty much every night, so maybe he’s there right now.
Only, that doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t he or Ethan’s mom text me that he’s late?
I’m painfully aware that it’s past midnight, but what else am I supposed to do? With a trembling hand, I search for her number on my phone and wait.
A few rings later, Ethan’s mom picks up. “Ivy?”
The grogginess in her voice tells me I just woke her up, which makes me feel ten times worse.
“Hi, Sue. I’m so sorry to call you at this hour. I just wanted to know if Joe’s with Ethan at your house?”
“Joe?” A rustling of the covers suggests she’s either sitting or getting up from bed. “Joe wasn’t here today. Do you want me to check Ethan’s room just in case?”
“Please,” I say, sounding as desperate as I feel. “I’m so sorry to bother you.”
“Don’t worry, honey.” She sounds more awake now. “Joe isn’t at home? Is that what’s happening?”
“He isn’t at home,” I confirm, my voice trembling when I say the words.
I refuse to believe this is happening. “I’ve just come back from work, and he isn’t here.
I can’t find him. He didn’t text or call.
I thought he might be at your place, since he’s spent the past few days studying with Ethan.
Maybe they’re playing video games and time slipped away on them. ”
She pauses. “Ivy,” she says, her voice confused and careful. “Joe hasn’t been studying here. Not recently.”
“What?” I breathe out. “Are you sure?” I ask as if it isn’t her house and her son, but I just… I can’t.
Joe’s been lying to me again?
“Ethan’s had baseball practice, and I was with him the whole time. He studied alone at home.” She pours her words on me like a bucket of ice water. “Wait, I’m almost in his room. Hold on.”
On the other side of the line, I hear their conversation unfolding.
“Ethan, sweetie,” Sue starts. “First of all, you shouldn’t be up playing video games at this hour. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
“Mom—”
“Save it. We’ll talk in the morning. Is Joe here?”
He pauses. “Joe?”
“Joe Farnsworth. Is he here? Because I have his very worried sister on the phone right now, telling me she can’t find him at home. She’s also telling me he’s been studying here with you lately, but we both know that isn’t true. Care to explain, Ethan?”
“He’s not here, Mom.”
My ears start ringing.
“And where is he?” Sue asks her son.
If Ethan answers, I can’t hear him.
“What?” his mom asks.
“I said, I can’t tell you.”
“Ethan Benjamin Coleman, you’re going to tell me where Joe is, and you’re going to do it now.”
“But I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone!”
“Does he know where Joe is?” I ask Sue, my heart beating so fast, I might actually pass out in the middle of this phone call.
“Do you know where he is?” she repeats the question to Ethan.
“Yes, but—”
Headlights filter through the curtains, illuminating the darkness of the house. Ford pulls into his driveway—I hadn’t even noticed his car wasn’t there when I got home—with a figure in his passenger seat.
“Sue,” I say into the phone, almost absentmindedly. My blood has turned cold. “I’m so sorry I woke you up. Thank you so much for your help, but… Joe just got home.”