28. Ivy
Chapter 28
Ivy
I watch the indigo haired customer turn in a circle and take in the space, a soft smile gracing her expression. It never gets old, seeing it from someone else’s perspective. And now I can do so once again. An immense feeling of appreciation for The Open Book washes over me.
“Your space is beautiful, so cozy,” she tells me, holding her newly purchased book to her chest. “I’ll definitely be back.”
“I am so happy to hear that. Enjoy your read,” I reply, waving goodbye. Picking up the new arrivals I perched on the side of the counter, I head to the front table. It’s minutes before close, and I’d like to get everything wrapped up before Tripp gets here. Halfway across the store, my phone rings in my pocket. Balancing the paperbacks haphazardly in my arms, I nearly fumble them all as I answer.
“Hello?” I say, easing them down onto the table beside me.
“Sherlock, hi.”
“Tripp,” I smile at his voice.
“I’m sorry, I won’t make it tonight like we planned. Something came up, but I’m going to send Millie,” Tripp begins.
“Send Millie? What’s going on?”
“I can’t explain right now, I’ll call you as soon as I can. Okay?”
My shoulders slump. “Sure,” I sigh. “But send Millie? Is that necessary?”
“For my own peace of mind, because I can’t be there.” There is an edge to his voice that has my heart sinking. Something isn’t right, he’s being vague and formal. “Only go with Millie, okay?”
“Okay.” My voice comes out as a whisper as I pluck aimlessly at the bouquet on the front table.
I hang up and survey the mess I’ve made of the flowers. With a frown, I work to rearrange the stems when my phone goes off again, this time a text message. It’s from Poppy to our group chat.
Poppy
SOS
Ivy
Girls’ night?
Wren
Your house, Poppy?
Stevie
Wine?
Poppy
My house. I’ve already started in on the wine, there’s plenty here.
Looks like I have plans tonight once again. I send Millie a text that she doesn’t need to come by to keep me company, I’ll be at Poppy’s. Then I set my phone back down and wrap up my tasks to close.
A spiced apple blondie is dropped onto a vintage looking floral dessert plate and placed beside my glass of wine. Even in her distress, she has the perfect baked good waiting.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
It’s just the two of us, Wren and Stevie arriving shortly. Poppy slumps down into one of the wooden shaker chairs and rests her chin in her hand. “Mayor Fitzgerald made his decision today.”
She doesn’t call him Fitzy. If her mood wasn’t clear enough, that would tell me everything I need to know. I reach out and take Poppy’s hand.
“He said he’s going to offer the property to Hayden. It just doesn’t make sense why he would want it! It’s not like it can meet his needs as it is. The changes he’ll have to make… I swear . That man only put a bid in after he saw how excited I was about it!”
“Hi ladies!” Wren calls from the front door. She and Stevie turn the corner, crossing through the rounded archway into the kitchen. Poppy waves at them absently, reaching for the bottle of red on the table and taking a swig.
“Catch us up,” Stevie turns to me, concern in her eyes.
“Baywatch got his way, and my perfect property,” Poppy groans. “There, you’re caught up.”
“We’re so sorry,” I say, giving her hand a squeeze.
“I really thought it would happen for me. I had it all planned out,” she sniffs.
“We all thought so,” Stevie agrees, resting a hand on her shoulder.
Poppy stands abruptly, grabbing the bottle of wine and tin of blondies. She starts across her entry hall for her living room, calling over her shoulder, “How can the mayor pick a bakery over a lifesaving rescue league?”
“What?” We look at each other in confusion.
“That’s what he told me. When he gave me the news.”
“Aren’t public figures supposed to think before they speak?” Wren huffs as we follow Poppy through her house. Coming into the white shiplap clad living room, we sink onto the linen slipcover sectional in unison.
“I just don’t know what to do now. There are no other spaces available within my price range that are the size and location I need. This was the spot; my heart was set on it. I feel like an idiot, but I was already picking out tiles and paint colors.”
“Maybe you can tell Hayden how much it means to you?” Stevie suggests.
Something between a snort mixed with a sob escapes Poppy. Wiping at her nose, she says, “Talk about humiliating, it would only result in him laughing in my face. That rich snob hates me.”
“What if we talk to him?”
“Then he would laugh at you instead. Hayden Thompson would never do anything for me. And I just don’t want to think about it anymore tonight. Distract me?” Poppy leans her head over on my shoulder and sniffs.
“Okay, well can we ask about Tripp’s face then?” Stevie asks cautiously, looking my way.
“What happened to Tripp’s face?” Wren turns to me in surprise.
I sigh. “My brother happened.”
“Oh my gosh! That was Wes? It’s so bruised, he had to have really wailed on him,” Stevie gasps.
“What happened?” Poppy leans forward earnestly. I’ve successfully distracted her from her despair, apparently.
“Wait, Stevie and I need glasses.” Wren leaps up for the kitchen, returning quickly with two wine glasses. She yanks the bottle from Poppy and takes a seat on the floor in front of the coffee table. “Okay, proceed,” she instructs as she pours.
“We’re together, and it’s...” A rush of butterflies bombards me as I finally get to speak those words aloud. “It’s better than I imagined. I always knew I wanted him. But the way he looks at me, is affectionate with me, it’s so much better .
A collective hum of approval passes through the room. I can feel a dazed smile on my face, and I press my fingers to my lips, recalling the feel of Tripp’s kiss just this morning.
“How together are you?” Poppy smirks.
“Now that I’ve gotten to wake up beside him, I don’t want another morning without him. Ever.”
“He’s good then?” Wren asks cheekily.
Heat scorches me as I nod. “Good is an understatement.”
“That’s not surprising, Tripp has that strong, sexy, white knight thing going for him,” Poppy says, her head back to resting on my shoulder.
“But how did Wes find out?” Stevie asks, taking a sip of wine.
“We didn’t want to be a secret anymore. He decided it would be best if he broke the news to Wes, and clearly my brother did not take it well.”
They all lean forward as I take a steadying breath. “I’m really worried he isn’t going to come around.” I look down and swirl the glass of wine in my hand. “And I’m really worried that is going to cause Tripp to back away from me. He was kind of weird on the phone today and canceled our plans we had tonight.”
My friends reach for me, but just telling them has me feeling better already. Because it seems silly saying it aloud. Tripp has been so certain about us; he wouldn’t pull back like this.
Poppy gives me a squeeze. “That man is crazy about you, and he knew what he was risking with Wes. I promise you that he’s not going anywhere.”
“Plus, he’s got a lot going on right now. You know, that pesky detail that someone has it out for you because you took their keys. He’s probably so focused on catching him.” Wren points out.
“Oh, that. I need more wine,” I mutter.
Wren passes the bottle and Poppy gives me a generous pour. We talk and laugh and commiserate. On nights like this, I don’t feel like I ran away from anything by coming home. I feel like I ran towards what I was missing. Who I was missing.
As the dark night sets in around us, the wine bottle empties, and the reality of work the next day grows near. I reach for my phone to text Tripp, to let him know I’d be heading out in case he wants to send Millie my way. Or even better, tell me to come to his house for the night. I was starting to crave the salty air at the cliffside. It’s peaceful out there, cozy.
Digging around in my bag, I realize that my phone isn’t there. I check the couch and the kitchen, nothing. I try to remember the last time I recall having it, and my brain floats back to my store. When Poppy texted and I was arranging flowers, I had set it down right there. Looks like I’ll be heading back to the Brick District after all. Saying my goodbyes, I step into the evening air.
I arrive at my shop and climb out of my Lexus just as a gust of wind passes through. Pushing my hair back from my eyes, I shiver from the way the breeze cuts straight through me. Autumn is beautiful, but the evenings grow harsh the later into the season we get.
There is sudden movement to my side, and I jump in surprise. Catsby flicks his tail as he approaches, as if amused that he startled me. “What are you doing hanging around this late?” I ask him. Usually, he leaves for wherever home is as dark approaches.
Stepping up to my store, I notice that the door is slightly ajar. “I’m guessing that wasn’t your doing,” I mumble to the feline. Warning bells sound in my brain and I hesitate, taking a minute to think this through. Of course, the first idea that comes to me is to call Tripp. Except, my phone is inside . I could leave. I could go find him at work or his house, then bring him back with me.
But the biting breeze reminds me that this might all be for nothing. For all I know, I didn’t close the door properly and it simply blew open. The gusts are significant tonight. I forgot my phone after all, maybe I forgot to lock up too? I was in such a rush to get to Poppy’s SOS and the memory of closing up sits just out my reach.
I peer through the window, looking for any signs of movement. There’s nothing, and I tell myself that it’s just my mind playing tricks on me. With everything going on, it makes sense that I got nervous. But it seems that no one is inside, so I open the door the rest of the way and step in slowly.
Despite my mind trying to reason away the open door, my heart is still racing with fear. I look around me for anything that could be used as a weapon if necessary. At the checkout counter, I have marble bookends. I could go grab one. But my phone is just inside the door here. I could also simply grab it and go back outside to call Tripp. I reach out to slide the device into my hand just as a sound rings out around the corner of the shelves.
“I’m sure it was nothing, I’ll just get Tripp,” I reason to myself. Maybe Catsby followed me in.
“No, you won’t.”
My head shoots up at the cold, deep voice that comes from around the corner. A dark figure steps out into the moonlight shining through the windows. Standing only a few feet in front me, I can see his face clearly now. And I know him.
“You won’t be calling anyone, Ivy,” he instructs, withdrawing a gun and pointing it at my chest. “I want my keys.”
I nod in agreement, it’s the only thing I can think to do. As he takes another step closer to me, a thrumming pulse fills my ears. The realization that it’s the sound of my pounding heartbeat taunts me, back to being afraid in my own shop. Only, this time the situation is much worse. Is this what a heart attack feels like? When I speak, it sounds like my voice belongs to someone else, someone in the distance.
“ You ?” I manage.