Chapter Nine
I vy usually closed shop every Sunday and Monday. Hollister’s Bakery, of course, was open every day. Holly thrived on success, so she opened early on Sunday for faithful churchgoers to pick up their favorite fellowship doughnuts, and on Monday for office staff to bring in Danishes for their Monday morning meetings. But Ivy needed time to recharge. She only had herself to run the business. The tea shop was her labor of love. After opening up on Sunday to accommodate her many customers, she needed at least one day off. But even though her sign read closed, she spent the day transposing more family recipes and shopping for next week’s supplies.
She stopped into Throckmorton Grocery for her ingredients.
Shop local. Shop Hazard.
Ivy, ever loyal, ascribed to her small-town motto even when it increased her business expenses. Holly’s supplies, of course, were delivered from a large supermarket in Newport, but Ivy loved Seymour’s corner market. It stocked everything she needed with quality and style.
Seymour leaned in and glanced over his shoulder before his bushy white brows drew together. He spoke conspiratorially, “How is your project working out?” His voice quavered, little more than an awed whisper.
Ivy released a soft huff. This was another reason she loved to shop here. She was understood. “Terrible. Jaxon shared his cookies with all his teammates.”
Seymour puffed out his cheeks and pushed his glasses up his nose to peer down at her. “It might be what fate intended.”
Ivy blinked at his unforeseen response. “What do I do about his teammates’ sudden devotion?”
“Why is that a problem?”
“You saw how they all came into the tea shop. Business is booming, and I’ve been on two dates already, but…” Ivy shrugged, unwilling to speak ill of her lackluster dates.
“It’s working.” Seymour nodded, his white hair flopping with the motion.
“But Jaxon didn’t eat any of the cookies.”
“The Hazard blessing isn’t necessarily what one expects. That’s what makes it wonderful.”
Priscilla Whitaker walked in, a woven, Maplewood shopping basket on her arm.
Ivy leaned closer to Seymour to keep their conversation private. “It isn’t working.”
He responded in a loud whisper, “Sounds to me like it’s working perfectly.”
Ivy leaned in closer, reluctant to be overheard by Priscilla. “But…shouldn’t I bake another batch of cookies?”
“You mean those cookies Alden can’t stop raving about?” said Priscilla. Ivy jumped at her caustic tone and caught her smirk as she turned to face her high school nemesis.
“Whatever you put in them has my son tripping over himself to be near you. I never would’ve suspected that the girl who got pantsed at the homecoming rally would be my son’s first crush.”
Ivy barely kept back an eye roll. It was so like Priscilla to bring that up, especially since Ivy suspected Priscilla had orchestrated the whole thing. She’d retained numerous sycophants who would’ve done anything to impress Hazard High’s head cheerleader.
With that parting shot and a low snicker, Priscilla sashayed away toward the cake mix aisle.
Seymour shook his head, causing his white hair to wave with the motion and lowered his voice. He motioned to Ivy to move closer and, finally keeping his voice down, said, “More cookies might be dangerous. Maybe you aren’t meant for Jaxon. I bet you’ll find your true love with a different Rebel.”
“Oh, Seymour.” Ivy tossed her ponytail. “You really believe in fate?”
“You believe in magic. How is that different?” He blinked owlishly through his spectacles. “You never know what hand fate may deal. Look at me. My lady love was from a rival high school, and we had forty-four extraordinary years together, along with three children and now six grandkids. I couldn’t be happier with the turn of my luck. Well, except”—Seymour got a faraway look in his eyes that hinted at cherished memories of lingering walks and laughter—“I could have enjoyed more years with my Margot.”
“That’s lovely.”
He gave a soft sigh. “Margot helped me start these stores. Her ideas and my dedication built our dreams.”
What would that be like? A lifetime of comradery and visions realized? Ivy pinched her lips together in thought. “So, you really don’t think I should bake another batch?”
Seymour shook his head. “You could disturb the balance of the cosmos.” He waved both hands in the air around his head to signify the universe. “And then what might happen?”
I might succeed , thought Ivy. This time, I might get it right.
“But don’t take my opinion,” Seymour added. “Check with your aunt. She knows the history of the cookie press best.”
Ivy pursed her lips. “I think I’ll do that.” Because if anyone was likely to agree she should make a second attempt, it was Lydia LaFleur.
*
“Definitely not!”
Ivy jumped at her aunt’s bellow. To her surprise, her aunt was echoing exactly what Seymour had said.
She struggled to keep her cajoling tone in check. “It’ll be fun. You love fun.”
Lydia gave a vehement headshake. She spun abruptly and stepped into the refrigerated section of her flower shop. She glanced over her shoulder, motioned to Ivy, and pointed to an impressive container of blue hydrangeas, then at an overflowing container of pink peonies. “Choose.”
Ivy pursed her lips in thought. “What’s the occasion?”
“Baby shower.”
“Not a gender reveal?”
“They want to be surprised.”
“Oh, well, both.”
Lydia grinned. “I like the way your mind works.”
“So, you do think I should make another batch of cookies.”
Lydia leaned around the tall flowers to frown at her. She waggled a free finger and almost dropped the bucket of peonies. Water splashed. Ivy dashed forward just in time to catch the peony bucket, and used her other hand to steady the hydrangeas.
“Trust in fate. Hazard knows best,” said her aunt.
Ivy eased down the plastic, green bucket she was now gripping onto the counter. “Poppycock.”
Lydia blinked and grabbed a paring knife. Hiding a smile, she pointed the knife at Ivy. “Stop trying to sound like me. It will not sway my opinion.” She began slashing at the flower stems in a practiced motion to give them a fresh cut. “The cookies worked. Your business is on the rise. Jaxon gave your cookies away, child. Clearly, he’s not interested. It must be acknowledged. The man’s still in love with his dead wife.”
“That’s an awful thing to say.” Ivy moved the waste can to catch the flying bits of slashed stems.
“Yes, it is, and I would not say it to him . But I can say it to you. Consider all your brilliant possibilities.” Lydia motioned at the flowers. “You have an entire garden of men to choose from.”
Ivy began to collect up items she knew her aunt would need to create the one-of-a-kind floral arrangements she was celebrated for. Ivy chose a bucket of ostrich fern and another of baby’s breath, because of course you need baby’s breath for a baby shower. “Is the couple married?”
Lydia shook her head.
Ivy added bachelor’s button, and, for that unexpected touch, cosmos, no doubt inspired by her conversation with Seymour.
“I’m having my doubts about this said garden of men. This next Sunday is a paintball party with thirteen-year-olds.”
“True, but boys grow into men.”
“I’m not waiting that long,” Ivy singsonged. “Remember, I have a bet to win by the end of this month.”
Lydia continued as if she hadn’t heard her. “And the next generation will patronize the Ivy Way Tea Shop.”
Which wouldn’t be so bad. Besides, Ivy was excited to play paintball. So what if they were all kids? She was a kid at heart.
Lydia began stabbing flowers into the dampened green foam she’d placed in the bottom of a clear-cut, crystal bowl. “Tell me about your date with Roman. He’s really something, that one, a real tall drink of water.”
Ivy laughed and leaned on the counter to watch her aunt work. “What does that even mean? I don’t think I’m all that thirsty.”
Lydia grinned. “Tell me about the date with Joel. He’s a wily one, that Joel. Doesn’t he own Griffin Auto Repair? I bet he could get your motor humming right along.”
“Aunt Lydia!”
“What?” She flashed her niece an innocent look. “Didn’t he have something fun planned?”
“Oh, he did. We watched the melodrama at the Town Hall Theater. I adored the play. The set design was super clever.” Not to mention the set designer , she thought, but her aunt didn’t want to hear that. Ivy scrunched her lips in a pout. “But, on the dates, Roman and Joel mostly talked about themselves. Even after the play when I wanted to relive the best parts, Joel talked about his large family and the skits they put on as children.”
“Of course they talked about themselves. You’re a fantastic listener. That way you get to learn all about them.”
“That and number 47 screws,” muttered Ivy under her breath.
“What was that?” Lydia asked from behind the now towering flower arrangement.
“Nothing. Tonight I’m going out with Rob, and Tuesday with Kyle. It would be nice if just once they were interested in me and what I have to say.”
“The right one will be. He’ll want to know all about you. You’ll find your one true love.” Lydia sighed and added Ivy’s selections to the arrangement. With practiced ease, she designed three large bows out of indigo, celadon, and silver ribbon.
“You sound like a fairy-tale kid’s movie.”
“Oh, I love those movies and you do, too.” Lydia gave a decisive nod. Ivy wasn’t sure if it was in approval of the flower arrangement or her statement. “Trust me, your true love is out there, and you’ll find your way to him. I promise.” Lydia placed the arrangement on a shelf behind her for pickup and narrowed her eyes. She waggled that long finger at her niece again. “So, do not bake another batch of magic cookies!”