Chapter 21
Vampire Food
Ivy
The library is a stone building that looks like it's been here since Vermont was founded, and probably has. Inside, the main reading room is dominated by a massive Christmas tree, and the air smells like old books and pine with a hint of jasmine tea wafting from the reference desk.
It's packed—kids, parents, townspeople milling around tables covered in craft supplies and wrapped books.
"Oh, look at the snowflake chains," Rachel breathes, taking it all in. "And the tree!”
"There’s Dash." I point toward the children's wing.
Through a wall of glass, Dash is visible, perched on a stool and surrounded by kids on beanbags shaped like snowballs. He's reading aloud, doing different voices—gruff, squeaky, thunderous—completely unselfconscious.
She watches him for a long moment, and something complicated crosses her face. Pride mixed with something else I can't quite read. "He's so natural with them. I didn't know he was good with children."
“I don’t know how he got roped into helping with story time, but he seems to be having fun. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Noelle."
She looks back at Dash one last time before she follows me to the circulation desk, where we find Noelle helping two little boys thread hooks onto colorful ornaments.
“Okay, you two, go hang your ornaments on the tree.”
“No storytime for them?” I ask as they race through the crowd, bobbing and weaving at top speed.
“I couldn’t do that to Dash. The Williams twins are very active learners. They went up to the Wonder Workshop and 3D printed ornaments instead.” She comes around the desk to greet us.
“Rachel, this is Noelle Winters, our library director and my dad’s fian—wife.”
Noelle laughs warmly. “We’ll all get used to it eventually. It’s so nice to meet you, Rachel. Welcome to Mistletoe Mountain.”
"It's lovely to meet you."
"Dash didn't tell me he was doing story hour.”
"He didn’t know,” Noelle says with a grin. “Jack sprang it on him at the last minute. Apparently a lot of the kids know who he is and are very excited that he’s the guest reader.”
Rachel nods. “That makes sense. The Vampire Quarterback is streaming now. There’s a whole new generation of Vlad Graves fans.”
"Let’s catch the end of Dash’s dramatic reading of And Tango Makes Three,” Noelle suggests, leading us toward the hallway to the children’s wing.
“Wait, that’s a board book. Preschoolers aren’t watching The Vampire Quarterback. Are they?”
Rachel shrugs, and Noelle grins. “There may be more older siblings than usual sitting in on this one.”
I suddenly wonder how many preteens currently have posters of Dash plastered on their bedroom walls? I decide I don’t want to know.
When we reach the doorway of the children's reading room, Evie Robinson spots me and nearly dumps her little brother Jalen off her lap and onto the floor in her excitement. “Ivy’s here!”
“Looks like Dasher isn’t the only celebrity around here,” Rachel observes.
Dash waves me waves me over. "Hey, Ivy! Come say hi to everyone." He’s giving me that crooked smile that makes my stomach flip.
“Hi, friends,” I say brightly, stepping into the room. I can sense Rachel following behind me. The photographers stationed near the door start snapping pictures.
His gaze shifts past me and his smile freezes.
“Mom?”
Rachel steps forward with her hands stretched out wide. “Surprise, sweetheart!”
For a moment, nobody moves. The kids stare. The parents stare. From just inside the doorway, Noelle stares. The photographers’ cameras click rapid-fire.
Finally, Dash stands, setting the book aside carefully, and crosses the room to his mother. They hug, laughing, and I relax my tense shoulders.
“What are you doing here?”
“Ivy invited me.” Rachel’s smiling, but her eyes are alert, taking in the cameras and the watching crowd.
Dash turns to me. “You called my mom?”
I can’t read his expression.
I nod, suddenly uncertain again. “To surprise you. You said you never had a real Christmas together, and there’s nothing more real than a Mistletoe Mountain Christmas.”
“She’s so sweet, Dasher,” Rachel enthuses.
Dash opens his mouth, but before he can respond, Caitlyn Chen tugs on his sleeve. Uh-oh.
“Is your mom a vampire, too?”
His laugh sounds genuine. “No, she’s not.”
A boy calls out, “What about Ivy?”
I turn toward the kids, grateful for the interruption. “What about me?”
Caitlyn picks up the baton. “Are you his girlfriend? Does that make you a vampire, too?”
I give Dash a panicked look. What should I say?
He extricates his arm from his mother’s and comes over to me, wrapping me in a hug from behind. “She is my girlfriend, but she’s not a vampire.”
Sunny Min, yet another precocious miniature citizen of Mistletoe Mountain, studies me, tiny hands fists on her hips. “That’s because she’s vampire food.”
“Excuse me? Do I look like vampire food, Sunny?”
She nods seriously. “You’re very pale.”
Everyone laughs, and I lean back against Dash. For a moment, it’s just us, sharing this ridiculous, perfect moment.
Then I remember it’s not just us. I look over at Rachel. She’s watching us intently.
Dash releases me from his arms and addresses the kids. “Well, that was exciting. But who wants me to finish the story?"
Enthusiastic shouts of "Me!" ring out.
He glances at Rachel, then me. "Give me a few minutes?"
“Of course,” his mom says.
We rejoin Noelle near the doorway, and the three of us watch Dash engage the kids, several of whom are doubled over with laughter.
I glance up to the catwalk outside the makerspace and see the Williams twins, listening from afar while also climbing a bookshelf.
I elbow Noelle and point, and she rushes off to rescue them—or her books, more likely.
Rachel's expression is unreadable as she watches her son surrounded by giggling, rapt children.
"He's different here," she says quietly, more to herself than me.
“I think he can relax here,” I tell her.
She looks at me with something—worry, or maybe fear—shadowing her expression. Whatever she might have said next is lost when the kids erupt in applause. Story hour is over.
The kids swarm Dash as he makes his way toward us. He’s patient, asking their names, making jokes. He even does his Vlad voice for them.
Finally, he extracts himself and comes over to us.
"Sorry about that.” He’s smiling, but I can see the uncertainty in his eyes when he glances at his mother.
There’s a beat of awkward silence. Dash is looking at me like he wants to say something. I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with Rachel. And Rachel is studying both of us like we’re a puzzle she can’t solve.
"Ivy," Rachel says suddenly, "would you mind if I borrow Dasher for a bit? I’d love to see more of the town. Just the two of us. We haven’t had much time alone since he started splitting his time between Los Angeles and New York.”
She says it sweetly. So sweetly that saying no would seem cruel.
Dash glances at me. I see the apology in his eyes, but also the ask. She’s his mother. She came all this way.
"Of course," I hear myself say. "I should check on the flower shop anyway. Dash can get you settled in at the loft. I’ll see you both later?"
"Tonight at Christmas karaoke," Dash promises. "The Tipsy Turnip. Seven o’clock."
"I’ll be there." I stretch up onto my toes to give him a quick kiss and press my key chain into his hand so he can take my car and get his mom settled in at Holly’s.
Then I turn to Rachel. "I’m so glad you’re here.”
"Thank you for inviting me, Ivy." Her voice is genuine and her face is open, kind.
As I leave, I glance back. Rachel’s already steering Dash toward the exit, her hand on his arm, talking rapidly. He’s listening, nodding.
And somehow, for a reason I can’t pinpoint, it feels like it was a mistake to bring her here.
Outside, the cold air stings my face but doesn’t ease my anxiety. I stand on the library steps, watching people come and go, trying to shake the uneasy feeling in my gut. After a few minutes, it’s clear that feeling isn’t going anywhere. I pull up my hood and head to the flower shop.