9. Tripp
Chapter 9
Tripp
“ I don’t envy you, son,” Fitzy tells me as we step into his office. I take a seat in the mahogany paneled room, crossing my ankle over my knee in the wood framed armchair before his desk.
A sardonic chuckle escapes me. That’s how out of hand this has gotten. The mayor of passionate, small-town civilians thinks I’m in a worse situation. And based on the town hall meetings I’ve attended—I think I’m being mild describing them as passionate.
“Give it to me straight. Should people be worried that this is escalating?”
A knot forms in my gut as I realize I’ll have to lie to him. But the plan was that no one learned about the new developments. “It’s still contained to property damage. No one has been harmed. I’ve increased patrol, though.”
It’s true, technically. Something awful could have happened to Ivy last night, but it didn’t. Bile rises in me at the thought. I don’t even know what I would have done if she’d been hurt. Noticing the way my fists clench, I remind myself that she wasn’t harmed. Ivy is okay. I loosen my hands and breathe.
It had been hell dragging myself away from her last night. But what reason did I have to be there more than her closest friends? Any explanation would have told her too much about how I was feeling.
“What about Fall Fest? Do we cancel it?” Fitzy pulls at his white mustache in thought.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s always highly populated, not at all what they’ve been going for.”
“We get our last big wave of tourists in for the festival though. What if it’s happening around town while they’re all here?”
“Fall Fest is still three weeks away, don’t do anything yet,” I say evenly, tension prickling behind my eyes. That’s just what we need, for everyone to feel they lost out on the last push of tourism before the off season. Those riots I was worried about would come with pitchforks and flames—as I’d deserve.
“Alright, let’s check back in next week,” Fitzy agrees. “Good luck, Tripp.”
It feels like a stay of execution, and I roll the tension out of my shoulders. Rising, I check my watch to ensure it’s late enough to head to Ivy’s without seeming eager.
“And by the way,” the mayor says, rising as well and adjusting the navy blazer on his barrel-chested frame. “This doesn’t determine anything about your ability to do this job. Remember that.”
“With all due respect, Fitzy, this quite literally is my only job. And I’ve yet to be successful at stopping this harm from coming to our county.”
“Okay,” he scoffs, “then just know that I don’t fault you for this.”
With a brusque handshake, I make my way back out to the ivory tile floors and through the dark walnut double doors. Town hall sits on the edge of the square, a space perfectly manicured with mature trees boasting flaming red leaves and rows of pumpkins that have been lined up in the grass. I cross the make-shift pumpkin patch and cut through the painted white gazebo.
Foxport is quintessential New England in autumn. And I have one week to convince its mayor to continue with the festival that shows it off.
“Why do you think they picked my store?”
I lean in the doorway and watch Ivy don her coat. “I really don’t know. I’m sorry, I should have an answer for you. But… this veered from the small pattern they did have. They’ve never gone near the Brick District, so picking a store smack in the middle of it seems odd.”
“What do I need to do first?” she asks. We step into the hall and make our way to the stairs.
“We’ll go to your shop to see what we’re working with, then just take it a step at a time. Have you talked to your family today?”
“I called them this morning, before anyone else was up. It was… a lot.”
“They care about you,” I say as we cross the lobby. “And they are wicked supportive when they care.” I think back to how involved her family has always been for me. Specifically, when I wasn’t functioning well with Pops passing. Ruth and Howard had insisted on taking care of all the arrangements. As always, they were there for me.
“Tripp?”
Glancing over, I see her doe-eyed expression fixed on me. “Mhmm?”
“Thank you.”
I’m overcome with the urge to wrap her up in my arms and tell her to never thank me for being here. That I want to be the one supporting her. The one facing down the morning with her. Instead, I shove open the door and hold it for her to step outside.
“It’s my pleasure.”
“Tripp?” she asks again.
I catch her gaze and give her a reassuring smile, encouraging her to continue. Her next words come out laced with disappointment. “What if I’m not ready to go to my shop?”
“That’s okay,” I assure her. “We can take as much time as you need.”
“Can we stop at Café Around the Corner? I think a pumpkin scone would help.”
We can stop a hundred places, I think. I want nothing more than to spend all day together. And while I hate the reason, I finally have an excuse to do so.
“Sure, want to walk?” I look up at the sun, its light radiating in the clear blue sky. This is probably one of the last few days we’ll get with a pleasant temperature until spring.
“Always,” she replies as we begin down the brick sidewalk. “I love October in this town. It glows. The red and orange leaves with the brick everywhere, it feels like a warm hug just walking down the street.”
“I love how you do that,” I reply, surprising myself with my honesty.
I must have surprised her too, because she almost trips on the uneven brick as I say it. Reaching out, I catch her around the waist and steady her. At the same time her hand comes up and latches onto my forearm. Looking up at me through her thick lashes, she asks, “Do what?”
“Make something as simple as walking down the street sound so appealing.”
“I don’t know about that,” she murmurs. She drops her gaze and smiles shyly, causing a fluttering sensation to erupt in my chest.
Pumpkin scone in one hand, cinnamon maple latte in the other, Ivy is the picture of joy. It settles me, seeing her like this. It’s proof that she’s okay.
“Do you think you’re ready? Or do you want to make another stop first? I can think of something fun,” I offer. I don’t want this mood of hers to disappear again so soon, and there’s a good chance it will once we head to her shop.
She turns to me as we stand on the corner in front of the café. “We should go to the store, but I’m curious about what else you had in mind.”
Starting down the street, I rub my hand along my jaw and smile. “I guess that depends on what kind of fun you’re in the mood for.”
I hear it, the insinuation, as soon as the words leave my mouth. Damn it. Turning to peer down at Ivy, I’m relieved to see that she doesn’t seem offended. In fact, there’s a whisper of a smile on her lips.
A block from the store, she pulls me to a stop. “Before I get in there and forget about this again,” she starts. “Last night, I found?—”
“Hey,” Hayden calls, approaching from up the street. “Looks like I have good timing.”
“Good timing for what?”
He stops in front of the bookstore and jabs a thumb towards the door. “For the cleanup crew.”
We move quickly to close the distance and see what he’s talking about. Through the window, I spy the three women that crashed our night last night along with the Taylor family, all huddled together in the center of the room.
“What…” Ivy starts, looking up at me.
“This is news to me too,” I confirm.
Hayden pulls open the door for us and grins. “Wes called, said you two were coming back this morning. We’re here to help.”
We left the place untouched last night—porcelain, glass, wood, and books strewn about in chaos. But with this small army, we’ll get through it in no time. I nod appreciatively at my friend as we step inside.
“Careful,” I murmur, wrapping my arm around Ivy and helping her over the toppled table that is blocking her path.
“We didn’t want to start until we got the okay from you, Sheriff,” Howard explains.
“Thank you, sir. I went over everything I needed to last night,” I say, my focus on the glass below Ivy’s feet. The sooner we get this fixed, the better.
“Good, good. And I got pictures in the daylight today for the insurance. So let us begin.” Howard turns to his cleanup crew and begins dolling out instructions.
I use the moment to pull Ivy to the side. “How are you doing, being back here?”
“I’m okay, I think. Is that weird?” she asks, fidgeting with the sleeve of her coat. “It is, it’s weird. I should be more?—”
“Ivy.” I hook my finger under her chin and lift until she’s looking up at me. Her breath hitches audibly with the motion, and she bats her eyes at me.
“It’s not weird. You are allowed to feel however you want to feel. If you’re okay now and change your mind, you tell me. And we leave. If you feel fine the whole time, that’s great. I don’t want this to be hard for you. But if it is, tell me, please?”
“Okay.” Her voice is breathy, her lips parted.
I have the sudden urge to kiss those lips and show her how serious I am. I swallow hard and drop my arm back to my side. I really need to go back to keeping my hands to myself with this woman.
We turn back to face the others that have gotten started. “It doesn’t look as bad today,” she says.
“Nothing’s ever as bad in the morning light.”
With an audible huff and visible eye roll, Poppy leaves her task and crosses the room to approach us. A scowl forming on her face, she says, “Howard paired me up with Hayden. Tripp, can you please take him? I’ll help Ivy.”
I let out a laugh. Howard must be as clueless as Ivy says, because everyone knows those two can’t be around one another. It’s a testament to their love for Ivy that they lasted working together for this long today.
“Alright, just give me one more second and then she’s all yours,” I tell the fuming woman.
“Fine, I’ll help Stevie and Ruth in the meantime.”
Turning back to Ivy, I ask, “What were you going to say outside? Something you remembered about last night?”
“Oh, right.” She digs around in her tote and comes up empty. “I must have left it at home. Anyway, last night when I was coming out of my office, after everything, I found a set of keys on the ground over there.”
I follow her pointed finger across the room as she continues. “They weren’t mine. And Millie hadn’t come over there yet. Which means he had to have dropped them.”
Pinching my nose, I exhale. “Ivy, you shouldn’t have those at your home.”
“I know, I’ll get them to you. But listen. Here’s the thing, they had a keychain.”
“Did it have the guy’s name and address on the keychain or something?”
“No,” she says, raising her eyebrow at me. I think she’s enjoying building suspense right now. And damn it if it isn’t cute to see her in sleuth mode. “But I recognized the keychain. It was the favor from my parents’ pig roast.”
“Oh shit,” I breathe. “Seriously?”
She nods, her eyes wide. “I can get you the keys. I can also go over the guest list with you.”
“You want to get more involved?”
“I want to do this, yes.”
“Ivy—”
“Please, I can help. These are important things I can contribute. I’ve studied all the great detectives,” she argues, waving her hand at the books around us.
“Okay, Sherlock,” I concede, a playful smile on my lips. “I’ll get the key from you, and then we can sit down about the guest list. But then that’s it. You can’t be involved more; it wouldn’t be safe.”
“Wouldn’t you be Sherlock? But I think I’m proving to be wicked effective as your Watson already.”
I drag my hand down my face to hide the way my smile grows at her words. “I’m happy to have you,” I say. “But I need you to agree that you won’t get more involved than planned.”
“Cross my heart,” she replies innocently, making the sweeping motion over her heart before holding up her hand in promise.
I’m not sure I believe her. The look on her face is pure elation. But there is no reality in which I would turn down a chance to be near her. My smile stretches wider. “Alright, partners it is.”