Chapter 11
11
I waited until I knew my dad would be out in his shop before driving over to the antique store. I hurried around back and opened the door to the antique store’s craft room. When I stepped inside, Dad was sitting on his tall stool, working on a model airplane. He looked up, then smiled as he took off his reading glasses.
“Ivy. This is a surprise. Come in. What’s going on?”
“Deke’s not here?” I asked, then instantly answered my own question. “Oh, Star Trek night with his mom. I forgot.” TV time with Mrs. Nelson was a sacred weekly habit for Deke, and everyone knew it.
Frankly, I was relieved. I really needed to talk to Dad, and Deke’s absence meant I could do so without worrying about upsetting him. I shut the door behind me and slowly made my way over to my father. I wasn’t sure how to approach the subject on my mind without seeming like a tattletale or whiny little kid, but I had to do something, that much was certain.
“I wanted to talk with you about Connor MacDowell,” I said. “Privately.”
“Oh?” Dad’s instant concern gave me the comfort I was hoping for, even while I wished I didn’t need it. “What’s happened?”
I took a deep breath. Time to get it all out in the open. “I need some perspective, and maybe some advice.”
Dad nodded and settled back on his seat, giving me his full attention. “Okay. What’s going on?”
I pulled over Deke’s work stool and sat down. Dad listened carefully when I told him more details about the coffee shop now going in across the street. I was proud of myself for my careful choice of words, not accusing, as factual and logical as I could manage. I did falter a little when I informed him of the fact Connor was also making his own cakes, and I didn’t share about my tumble while digging through his dumpster. That was just too embarrassing. Still, I managed to make it through everything else without crumbling like an over-baked cookie, and I counted that as a win.
“I know it sounds like I’m whining,” I said at last, “but I always thought Jingle Junction was about lifting others up. That’s what we do here. We all get along. We don’t have two flower shops for a reason, or two Mercantiles. The town is small, but it survives on tourist business. So, why pit citizens against each other? Just have them fulfill a specific need. And that’s what Jingle Junction has done ever since it was founded.” My confidence increased as I raised my chin and challenged my dad for the first time in my life. “Now, suddenly, we’re changing the rules and what’s expected because some famous candy maker is setting up shop?”
I could tell my dad was thinking over what I’d said, and I did my best not to let his long pause undermine my determination.
“First of all,” Dad said, “I wasn’t aware of the additions to the shop, and I can understand why you’d be concerned. I’ll speak to Connor myself and remind him of the contract he signed.” When I opened my mouth to respond, he put up a hand to stop me. “But that can only go toward the cakes, Ivy. Nothing else. Your bakery isn’t officially a coffee shop. In fact, if one of the townspeople decided they wanted to try their hand at opening a coffee shop, I feel they should have that opportunity. It’s a sideline you added much later than when that bakery was founded, so I think that’s fair.”
I nodded. “Okay. I understand that.”
I did understand, even if I was a bit disappointed.
Dad’s brow furrowed as he continued to stare at me. “The best thing to do in these sorts of situations is to speak to the other person directly. Have you tried talking to Connor about the cake and coffee additions?”
Time to put my cards on the table.
I felt a wave of shame as I covered my face with my hands. “Yes! And it was awful!” I lowered my hands and groaned. “Dad, you know how nervous I get around certain people.”
My father smiled. “I do, indeed. You’ve always been that way.”
“Well, he’s one of those people, Dad. I can’t explain it, but he makes me feel… weird. All flustered and confused. And I start to sweat and get all…” I trailed off. “I don’t understand it.”
Dad tried to suppress his grin, but he failed miserably. “Maybe I know why?”
Something told me I didn’t want to hear his answer. “Why?”
“Do you like Mr. MacDowell?” He leaned back and raised one eyebrow. “He’s not exactly hideous, is he?”
I shook my head so vehemently, I almost passed out. “ Like him? Gosh, I don’t even know him! Every time I try to talk with him, he just stares at me like I’m an insect under a microscope. Or his little dog growls at me. Or he has this amused look on his face like I’m the funniest thing he’s ever seen.”
“Ah, I see.” For some reason, Dad’s tone of voice didn’t match the words. “Okay, I think I get the picture. If you want, I’ll talk with him tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it.” I gave an embarrassed shrug. “I’m sorry you have to get in the middle of this, but hopefully, this will smooth some things over.”
Whatever it took to protect my bakery.
“I hope so, too.” Dad touched my cheek with his fingertips. “I love you, Ivy Bell.”
“Love you, too, Dad.” I gave him a hug and headed home, glad to have gotten everything off my chest.
Now if I could just get some sleep, everything would be all right tomorrow.