Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
I vy flung open the door and froze in her stockings. Boots. She needed boots. She half skidded, half slid across the polished wood and shoved her feet back into her rain boots. Instead of going through the house, she made a mad dash through the front door and came to a stop at the gate that somehow unlatched. The wind? She knew she hadn’t even touched it.
The entire backyard looked like Santa’s village threw up all over it. Hundreds of strands of lights hung from the eaves, branches and holly bushes. With the white expanse of the frozen lake in the backdrop, the fantasy of winter wonderland stretched beyond the banks.
Up until she had left Dixen, Ivy had loved to take to the ice and practice her toe loops and pretend she was a princess on ice.
Several mature pines lined the property and served as a buffer from the cold winds coming up off the lake. Fat bulbs just waiting to light up the night with their white light hung from their bows. Holly shrubs hugged the house with their lush, green leaves and fire red berries sticking out from beneath the blanket of snow.
Fairy lights spread over their compact branches like a swath of stars ready to shine brightly at a moment’s notice. Ribbons of more lights twined around the bases of the pine trees and yet more poinsettias rimmed their bases to add the final touch of Christmas magic everyone could count on from the Winters. It was what brought people back year after year.
To her, it made the acid in her stomach bubble with more vigor.
She had to admit, at any other time, with all the snow it would look beyond magical and just how she remembered.
She took it all in over the span of three seconds before she bounded through the gate. Icy chunks of white fluff spilled over the rims of her rain boots and squeaked with each wide step she took.
She was too late. Rocco trotted across the pristine snow without a care and headed straight for her. “Rocco. You stop right there, little lady.” A streak of gray-brown fur ducked under a low branch weighed down with snow, causing a curtain of the snow to fall over her just as she caught up with the mischievous reindeer. He busted through one gate and made it through the other side, snagging each strand of lights as he went. Even managing the tiny star lights on the holly bush. Oh, he was in so much trouble. At war with herself, she couldn’t decide if she was happy the lights were gone because they threatened to bring back a spark of holiday spirit or mad that she would have to replace them.
She did a mental check. Nope. She only liked them from an interior decorator’s standpoint.
Her breath came in short bursts of panic-laced hot air.
Wow, she had no idea reindeer could move so fast. “You did that on purpose,” she accused the over-sized deer. She took a second to rub her hands together and blow on them to chase a little of the coldness away, but it was futile.
“Now look at what you’ve done!”
She approached the reindeer slowly so as not to spook her into making a second lunge for the lights she missed.
“Don’t even think about it. Your antlers are like weapons of mass destruction and I’m not into hanging Christmas lights or any other kind of decorations.”
She remembered how Aspen had shown her to reach out and touch the snout first. “That’s it, easy does it.” Almost every strand of Christmas lights Gran carefully and artfully placed now draped from or trailed behind the big goof.
She tugged her scarf and coat a little tighter as fat clumps of snow dropped on her from the pine tree. When she got beside her, Rocco nudged her and poked her snout into the large opening of her coat. “Hungry, are we?”
She plucked a cookie out and held up the green-glazed treat. “I hope you don’t mind the reindeer shape. No offense, you know. Plus I won’t tell any of your reindeer friends you ate a deer-shaped cookie.” She handed her another and tried to make fast work of reclaiming the Christmas lights but her frozen digits didn’t make the job easy or fast.
“You have a lot of nerve coming here like you own the place. What were you thinking?” She snapped her fingers, growing numb by the second. “Santa kicked you out of his workshop, didn’t he? Deposited you here in Dixen to keep everyone on their toes. Or maybe you don’t like Christmas this year, either? I’m absolutely flattered for all your attention, but can we keep this to a one-time-only kind of thing?” Ivy continued as she untangled star-shaped lights from little plastic pine trees wrapped around both antlers.
Finally done, and not a moment too soon from the coloring of her fingers, Ivy wadded up her tangled loot and deposited it on the top step of the porch as she kicked off her dripping rain boots and peeled off her wet socks. Next stop, the dumpster on the way to town.
Inside, she set to work on a fire and pulled a blanket from the back of one of the couches to wrap around her feet while the heat filtered through the house. Feeling her fingers and toes was a priority. Then food.
The power came back on sometime while she was out chasing the reindeer but it would take too long for the heat to fill the home.
Ivy stuffed her hands under her arms and huddled close to the fire for a few more minutes until she was sure the threat of possible frostbite faded.
With all the adrenaline and chaos, her stomach spoke up over the lack of her attention. Cookies didn’t count. And wasn’t that a shame.
Ivy tossed aside her blanket and found a clean pair of socks in her gran’s bedroom. Moderately warm again, she made her way back to the kitchen. Ivy plucked the last remaining cookies and bit into it as she considered her options.
She dusted off the crumbs as her gaze roved over the kitchen and the buckets of paint on the table all waiting for her. This would never work. Three days, eight rooms needing some kind of attention, cooking…Christmas trees. And now she had to re-do the lights.
She dragged herself over to the fridge. The usual condiments lined the door, some leftover chicken casserole, drumsticks in the freezer, and wine. Wine sounded good right now. She tapped the side of the door, giving it some real consideration. Did it count as dinner if no one witnessed?
She bypassed the wine glass and took out a coffee mug instead. It was tempting. Real tempting, but she had never been one to back down from a challenge.
Yet.
This year might push her over to a whole new limit.
She flung open all the cabinets and stood back.
Maybe she had been too hasty with Aspen. Suddenly she wished more now than ever she’d taken him up on his offer to drive her into town. He could have served as a buffer between her and all the old faces she was sure to see. They would want to chat and catch up when she needed every minute available to work.
“Yeah right,” she scoffed. “You just want to get another whiff of his cologne again and have another chance at him asking you to dinner.”
She placed her mug on the counter. Unless she wanted to test how long she could survive on dark chocolate icing, a trip to town was inevitable.
Ivy had never learned how to play hooky or back out of giving her word. She might as well have signed a contract. She turned and leaned against the counter in a huff. Cold, hungry, and she had to admit more than a little tired.
“Well, Ivy, you can gripe and mope or freeze and starve?”
She gave the chocolate a long side-eye look and pursed her lips. There was another option. Huddle in her bed with the chocolate and sulk.
She would have to slog off her wet clothes, into what she had no clue, and go grocery shopping. And inevitably run into people filled with lots of questions. Maybe it would be fun.
She pushed off from the counter. Her family was right. Their gran had lost her marbles.
She hated Christmas. All holidays. Scratch them off the list, mark them from the calendar. She never wanted to see another turkey or set of Christmas lights again.
Her cell rang and she plucked it up from the counter. “Gran! I can’t do Christmas this year!”
Or any year. Nothing could make her want to decorate another tree or baste another turkey.
“Sorry, sugar. Hate to disappoint and what’s so bad about Christmas? Thought you loved all the fancy lights and sparkly decorations. And why would you think Gran is calling? Isn’t she with you?”
Those were all very good questions. “Jon. The next time I see you, remind me to wring your freaking neck. And our siblings’. You all deserve to have every single one of my ten digits wrapped around your necks.”
“Whoa there, little sis. Murder is frowned upon in the modern days. Your Wild West show is a few decades too late.”
She swallowed hard and with it, her wrath. A heavy sigh released a bit of her anger as she tried to control her breathing so she wouldn’t pass out, but those blinky white lights across her vision refused to fade despite her best efforts. “If this was the Wild West I would be a single child by now. You won’t believe what our dear sweet little Gran did this time.” The grandfather clock nestled in the corner of the large gathering room chimed ten times.
“Try me.”
Ivy gave her brother the rundown, fell into a plush rocking chair by the fire and stared into the dancing flames.
“Now that Gran bailed on her own Christmas gig, I’m stuck here and I haven’t heard from my hopefully new employers yet.”
“Are you over your pity party yet?”
“Harsh much?”
“You grew up running that place. We all did in some way. You can do this with your hands behind your back. And it is Christmas, right? The season of miracles? Or do I have it all wrong all these years? Being in Dixen can’t be all that bad. You need some time to yourself. Figure out what you really want to do. This is your chance.” His tone, the familiar older-brother-knows-best tone grated on her nerves as much as it made her want to tell him everything. Infuriating, really.
A couple of seconds passed before she answered. “Gran said something similar. And miracles? Where were the miracles when my house was on fire? I don’t know. Do you think maybe Christmas miracles are for children? Seems irresponsible holding out hope everything will work out on its own. It’s just that I can’t fix my life from here, Jon.”
What she didn’t say was that she couldn’t do it this close to Aspen.
A wave of fiery tears stung the backs of her eyes as she fought them off with her thumb and forefinger pressed into the bridge of her nose.
“This coming from a woman with Neve as her middle name. Such little faith. Miracles, faith, fate, whatever you want to call it…no one is too old to believe.”
“Like you, for example. You’ve worked through every holiday since…” Ivy cut off, not wanting to dredge up the past and stick her foot in her mouth.
“It’s okay. You can say it. Since I lost Heather.”
“I’m sorry.” Now she really wanted to smack her forehead with how insensitive she’d been. Heather was her brother’s wife and her best friend. They’d both loved winter and when Heather had insisted on a Christmas wedding, the whole Winters family did everything possible to make it happen. It had been spectacular. For their one-year anniversary, Jon had gifted Heather with her dream vacation with a trip to the Alps. No one was prepared for the tragedy that struck. Heather died in a freak skiing accident after a blow to the head in a fall. Now Jon avoided Christmas and it worried her how alone he must feel this time of year.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m the perfect example but follow my words not my example and all that crap.”
Ivy followed Jon’s lead and stayed away from taking the conversation deeper into the topic of Heather. “It’s not my fault I’d rather skip Christmas. It’s?—”
“Oh, wait. I know this one. It’s the Ivy Effect,” he finished for her, not amused. “Yeah, where have I heard that one?”
“It’s true and I’m sorry I don’t mean to sound so snarky. I’m just…” What the heck was she? Mad at her gran or just mad at how things took a one-eighty from her well-thought-out and detailed plan?
“You believe in something you made up when you were a kid more than miracles? Plus, what’s there to fix, sweetheart? You’re finally free from that self-absorbed douche face you called a fiancé and you’re better off for it. I never liked him anyway.”
Jon didn’t hold punches; she’d give him that. “You don’t like anyone so that voids your opinion.”
Jon chuckled over the speaker. “Not true. I like plenty of people. It just takes me a little longer to warm up to them than it does you, that’s all. I like you, don’t I? Our motley crew of siblings, though a couple of them push the limits. And speaking of friends, have you seen Aspen yet?”
The mention of Aspen’s name brought a rush of heat to her cheeks and she pressed the tips of her fingers into them to cool the burn. Had she seen Aspen yet? She basically eye fucked him on her front porch and kissed him once already.
“Oh, yeah. I ran into him today.”
“Is that a hint of happiness I hear?”
“Don’t even. I just broke up with someone. I’m not ready for a new romance with anyone, especially an old boyfriend.”
“Fiancé,” her brother corrected.
“Details! Besides, I’m on a man-hiatus.”
Jon’s deep laugh carried and she pulled the phone away from her ear. Well, he could laugh all he wanted, but she was on a full no-man strike and intended to keep it that way. “Is it strange that I don’t miss him? The man who must not be named, I mean.”
“Lewis. There’s power in a name, Ivy.”
“Lewis who?” She cut in dryly.
“Funny. The more you say it the less power it—he—will hold over you. He’s a graceless dickfaced coward who doesn’t deserve your kind heart, even if you are too nice for your own damn good. What kind of man dumps his fiancée using a text message while he’s out on a date with another woman? A pussy is who. I’m surprised you haven’t mailed him a festive package of shit yet.”
She mirrored her brother’s sentiments to the letter.
A mutual friend at the time had spotted him out that evening while she lost her home. “You heard about that?” she asked in a perfectly normal tone, unlike the freak show she had going on in her head of all the horrors bound to unwind between now and Christmas Day.
“Sweetheart.” He sounded as exasperated as she felt. “Everyone did. Juniper and Carol, in particular, had a few more ideas of how to serve up some cold-hearted payback. It took a while for Mom to talk them down when she realized Colden and I wouldn’t be the ones to rein in their over-protectiveness at this time. You should have heard the colorful string of words they used to describe what they would do to Lewis and his shriveled dick if they ever saw him again.”
Their younger twin sisters and their brother were loyal no matter what and it made her heart ache less. “I might call them up just to hear their plan. Colden should know better than to let the tornado twins rope him into their crazy schemes, though. I’ll thank them for what I am sure would have been excellent ideas next time I talk to them.”
“You should stop dodging their calls and they would tell you all the gritty details themselves. You might even like a couple of them. I know I did.”
“It’s embarrassing. As the oldest of the girls, I should be a role model.”
“Learn from me, you put yourself in a bubble and the air will eventually cut off.”
She needed a change of subject ASAP or risk losing her cool. “So I can really mail a box of manure?”
She rocked the chair slowly and allowed herself a moment to think it over.
“Don’t sound so coy,” her brother teased. “Shit deserves shit. And if our parents ask, you didn’t get it from me. Deal? I’ll text you the number when we hang up. They’ll even add any color of bow you want. Pretty paper, too, if you're a whole nine-yard kind of girl.”
“Speaking from experience, are we?”
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
Ivy smiled and tapped her fingers lightly. “Sure. You forget. I know you. If mom heard some of the dirt I have on you, she’d have baptized you twice and renamed you Lucifer.”
“So, is that a ‘you’ll consider it’ or a hard no on the order? I have the number handy.”
Tempting. So darn tempting. Wouldn’t that make the perfect Christmas gift? She could picture the smug look on her ex’s face as he tore into the package. His latest socialite prissy girlfriend giddy and wondering what could possibly be in such a large pretty box.
“Send it over.”
“That’s my girl!”
Delivering a dose of payback to that two-timer made her mood lighten. Good old-fashioned revenge was so underrated. “Thanks for the idea.”
“What are big brothers for?”
“You really want an answer to that because I have a list a mile long that I could use some help with.”
Of course, he scoffed at that. “Oh no. I was the one that stood up for you when everyone wanted to pick you to help Gran at the B&B this year.”
She pulled the phone from her ear and gave it a long side-eye as though Jon could see her face. “Yeah, right. No way can I believe that. Besides, I’m still miffed that everyone saw fit to call Mom and Dad and plan this behind my back.”
Her brother had a knack for talking his way out of and into anything. He would have killed it in the courtroom had he opted to follow in their father’s footsteps, but he chose to go large and in a direction no one saw coming. After a family vacation her brother literally came up with a billion-dollar idea. Fast-forward five years and he was one of the wealthiest men in the country.
Which is how she knew he worked his gift for words to his favor when it came time for nominating the right Winters sibling for the job.
The faint scent of cinnamon and fresh pastries from earlier that morning clung to the air and she inhaled instead of lashing out at her brother with a snarky remark. He was only trying to help.
“Our lovely Gran had a bigger hand than you think. Is there anything I can do? You need anything?”
A light voice spoke in the background asking for her brother’s signature. As the owner and CEO of Winters Resorts and Time Magazine’s most eligible bachelor once again her brother never had a minute to himself nor a shortage of wannabe future Winters brides ready to be arm candy.
Only he didn’t play that way.
Stretched out over two continents and four countries, his resorts were top end and his clients dominated most of his time. Now he had his eye on something closer to home.
“Is everything still on schedule for the Vancouver branch?”
“So far, so good. But at the rate we are moving it seems like it will take another year to pull all the plans together. The board is being a stickler too. Many think Vancouver isn’t the right fit for the Winters.”
“Imagine that.”
Another pause as someone asked for Jon’s time. “Look, don’t fret, Ivy. Everything will be okay. I’m only a call away too. You’re not alone.”
She didn’t reciprocate the feeling. A concentrated mass of pain settled between her shoulder blades.
“You think you’ll actually pull away this Christmas? Mom’s been going on about a new secretary or lawyer you’ve hired, too. Not sure which.” She let the tail end of her thought kind of drift off so her brother could pick it up. He normally did not fall for her bait, but she had to try.
Even over the phone she heard the tightness in his laugh. He probably stood with his hand in his pocket while staring out over the grounds of his resort below.
“Mom talks too much and you like to daydream. Belle is a professional at her work and has a job to do to ensure the Vancouver deal goes through.”
“Well, you better get back here then and set Mom straight. She thinks she hears wedding bells and already has magazine subscriptions filling the mailbox. Has Dad all worked up.”
“Dear Lord,” he ground out. “That woman is a menace with her planning.”
Yeah. Ivy got that. She had the same slight tendency. “So, what do you say?”
“No promises, but I’ll try. Just don’t get any funny ideas, okay.”
“Sounds like it’s the best answer I’ll get.” She flipped open the last cupboard and sighed heavily.
“But if you don’t make it at least I won’t be the only one calling home and telling Mom Christmas dinner at the house is a no-go again. Be warned though, this year she might go to you. Gives her an excuse to meet this Belle she’s hearing things about,” she teased to the tune of a heavy sigh from the other end.
“You’re exasperating.”
“I hope everything works out with your new resort. Hey, listen, call me if you need me to do anything for you on this side of the pond, okay. Don’t listen to what those stuffy business suits tell you. Alaska is the perfect spot for you.”
She disconnected and dragged herself upstairs to find something dry to wear. Preferably not striped, polka-dotted or otherwise splattered with holiday fluff. With her luck, and knowing Gran, she’d find her old leotards and the tutu Gran refused to toss out from her one attempt at a theatrical performance in high school. She still shuddered every time she saw the NutCracker.
Ivy bit her lip. The conversation with her brother brought back old memories and ones she’d rather keep buried.
She tossed open the closet in the spare bedroom meant for family only and rummaged through some old clothes one of her sisters or cousins must have left here on a visit. Aspen was a problem for her because the second she touched his hand earlier, and felt the goodness of his strong arms this morning, something happened.
The zap, tingle, parting of the skies…whatever. The truth was her high-school romance tumbled out of her neatly packed memory box, fully reinstated and settled like a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.
Ivy sighed. “Now what?”