by Olivia Miles
He returned a few seconds later with a plastic cup and a granola bar. “I hope you don’t mind. I found this in the back room near the sink.”
He had no idea how much she did not mind. Her fingers were shaking so hard she could barely peel the wrapper. Frantically, she took a bite, waiting for the sugar to hit her blood. She needed to get her insulin under control. Henry was right. And that’s why he couldn’t know about this little scare. It would be just the kind of thing he’d use to try to yet again convince her to leave this town, and everyone in Briar Creek, behind her.
“Looks like there are two doctors in your family,” Ivy joked when her body temperature finally dropped and her pulse had settled. Her skin felt cool, and she brushed the matted hair off the back of her neck.
“Oh, I could never do what Brett does,” Mark said ruefully, and Ivy’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of Mark’s younger brother’s name. “When my mom was sick, I learned a few things, though.”
Ivy nodded. Mark had sacrificed a lot to help his mother through chemo—twice.
“How’s Brett doing?” Ivy dared to ask as casually as she could. She peeled the wrapper back on the granola bar, finishing it with one last bite, somehow unable to make eye contact with Mark.
He shrugged. “Good, I suppose. He’ll be back for Luke’s wedding.”
So much for getting her body under control. At this, her stomach flipped, and her heart began to positively thunder. Is Brett seeing anyone? she wanted to ask. But the bigger part of her didn’t want to know. There was always the chance that he would bring a date to the wedding. Grace, being her best friend, would happily share the guest list if she asked, but Ivy wasn’t ready to extinguish the hope just yet that he would come alone, maybe spot her across the room in that beautiful crimson bridesmaid dress, realize what he’d been missing his entire life, and push through the crowd to ask her to dance. He’d hold her all night long, pressing her into his rock-hard chest while he whispered sweet nothings into her ear, and after she caught the bouquet he’d whisk her off to the B&B where he was staying and slam the door shut with his foot while he slowly unzipped the back of her dress and chased kisses down her neck until she groaned, and then… Then again, he might show up with some beautiful blonde on his arm. It was depressing enough to go stag to your best friend’s wedding, but if Brett showed up with a date… She simply couldn’t bear it.
Briar Creek wasn’t exactly the hot spot for the singles scene, and try as she might, she couldn’t shake the crush she’d harbored for… practically her entire life!
Ivy stood, feeling slightly better, and tossed the wrapper into the trash under the counter. Turning back to Mark, she said, “So, have you decided?”
“I feel like I’ve seen this one flower in her apartment before…” He pointed to a bushel of hydrangea. “Maybe I should stick with roses though.” His expression turned pleading. “I don’t want to mess this up.”
Ivy marched over to the bright blue hydrangea and plucked the six best stems. “You’re doing just fine, Mark. I happen to know these are Anna’s personal favorite.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He laughed.
“Because I’m not the one giving Anna flowers. You are.” She flashed him a knowing smile before wrapping the flowers in brown paper and securing the stunning yet simple bouquet with twine. “Go sweep her off her feet.”
“Thanks,” Mark said, as he turned to leave. He paused after he opened the door, his grin wavering slightly. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? There’s nothing I can do?”
Ivy waved him off with a smile she didn’t feel. “Never better. Now go give Anna those flowers!”
“You’re the best, Ivy.”
With one last wave, the door closed behind Mark. Ivy stood in the now empty shop and sighed. If only his brother felt that way.
Ivy was putting together a bright red and orange arrangement when Henry came into the flower shop. He stopped at the front of the store, waiting for her to finish, observing his sister’s handiwork and the care she poured into it. Petals on Main was quaint and charming, thanks to Ivy’s artistic eye. Even if his twin sister didn’t own the place, he would have been impressed. Reluctantly so, perhaps, but impressed just the same.
The battered wood floorboards were covered in galvanized pots, bursting with sunflowers and colorful arrangements, with small, handwritten cards giving a description. Some, like the roses and lilies, he recognized, but others he had only seen from a distance and never stopped to appreciate. He grinned. Leave it to Ivy to notice the beautiful things in life.
She was always stopping to pick wildflowers on their walks home from school, always careful to hold them by the stems until they were safely inside. She’d climb onto the counter to fetch an old jam jar, placing the makeshift vase on the center of the old kitchen table they almost never sat at. They were nothing more than weeds, really, often dandelions or buttercups, but that didn’t stop her from putting the arrangements all over the house. “Maybe they’ll cheer up Mama,” she’d say, her blue eyes bright with newfound hope. “Maybe they’ll make her smile.”
Henry swallowed the knot in his throat. Only one thing made their mother smile, and that was the sweet sound of wine filling a glass. She’d rarely given Ivy any notice. Henry was there for that. Until he wasn’t.
His jaw tensed as he watched his sister tuck one final stem into the round vase and stand back to survey her work. He was here now. And he was going to be damn sure his sister was taken care of once and for all.
“Did you get your health insurance straightened out?” he asked, as soon as the customer had disappeared through the door, awkwardly clutching an arrangement that must have weighed a good twenty pounds.
“You don’t waste much time,” Ivy commented, holding his gaze. She pursed her lips and began brushing some discarded stem and leaf clippings from her work stand. “How are you today, Henry? Pleasant to see you. What have you been up to this fine fall day?”
“You know why I asked.” He softened his tone and rolled up his shirtsleeves. “I’m worried.”
Ivy handed him a small wicker wastebasket, and he cleaned off the rest of the surface until all that could be seen was the nicked wood. Well used. Well loved, no doubt. She might not have succeeded in turning their mother’s life around, but it was obvious she’d made a success of brightening the lives of others in town.
“I told you,” Ivy insisted, still refusing to meet his eye. “I’ll get on a better health plan after the start of the year. My deductible’s high, and I’ve had a lot of expenses recently. That’s all.”
He knew what expenses she meant, and his gut twisted so hard he had to remind himself to breathe. He’d sent a check for the burial. A check that was never cashed.
“That’s no excuse to be missing appointments and skipping your meds,” Henry said. He gave her a hard look, but she just strolled around the store, determined to make light of what was a very grave situation. Bad enough to drag him back to Briar Creek.
“Did you get your prescription filled with the money I gave you?” She hadn’t been pleased when he’d insisted on attending her doctor’s appointment last Friday, but considering she’d landed herself in the hospital only ten days ago, she’d also known there was no point in arguing.
She sighed heavily. “Yes. I went to Forest Ridge and got it filled this morning.”
“Good.” His blood still ran cold when he thought of that chilling phone call he’d received from the emergency room doctor, asking if he was Ivy Birch’s next of kin. The air had stalled in his lungs for those few paralyzing seconds, and all he could think was, I’ve lost her, too. When he’d shown up at her bedside the next day after catching the red-eye, Ivy had looked startled, then embarrassed. She hadn’t wanted to worry him, she’d said, when he questioned the light-headedness and the blood sugar levels. She hadn’t thought it was a big deal, she’d had the nerve to say. She’d waited, held off, until it was nearly too late.
He hadn’t been a
ble to save their mother, but he’d be damned if he didn’t save his sister. She was all he had. All he’d ever had. He closed his eyes, the guilt now twisting deep in his chest like a knife. Maybe he’d been selfish to leave town all those years ago. Maybe he should have sucked it up, stuck it out. The way Ivy had.
“I’m feeling up to starting on the house this week,” Ivy said now. “I’ll give you a hand with the attic. Maybe we can start with the boxes in the garage.”
“No,” Henry said firmly. “You’re on your feet all day here. You shouldn’t be working so hard.”
“I can’t exactly afford to pay for help right now,” Ivy pointed out.
“Maybe not, but I can.”
“Henry!” Ivy shook her head until her auburn hair shook. “I told you. I’m not comfortable taking your money. Besides, I’ll have plenty of cushion once we’re able to get Mom’s house sold.”
Good luck with that, he couldn’t help but think. The old farmhouse had been dilapidated when they’d been growing up in it, and that was thirty years ago. He hated the thought of even going back to that place, but Ivy was right—if they could sell it, be free of it once and for all, they’d be better off for it. Especially Ivy.
“In the meantime, promise me you won’t get behind on your meds. Did you take your insulin yet today?”
A strange flush coated Ivy’s face. “I’m about to.”
Henry balled a fist at his side. “Do it now. Let me watch.”
“Henry!” Ivy protested, placing her hands on her hips. “I’m thirty years old!”
“And I’m older by eight minutes.” He softened his tone. “Please, Ivy.”
She stared at him, then nodded slowly. Silently, she disappeared behind a door, returning with a syringe. Though he’d watched her do it a thousand times growing up, even administering the medicine himself at first, and later teaching her to do it herself, he still winced when the needle went into her thigh.
“There.” Ivy glanced at him, her blue eyes bright and determined. She pushed her skirt down, her cheeks flushed. “Satisfied?”
“I’ll be satisfied when I know I don’t have to worry about you anymore,” he said, but he knew that day would never come. He’d been worrying about her since he was old enough to know no one else would, and long before she ended up in the hospital at age seven. Still, it wouldn’t stop him from trying. “We’ll walk through the house together, but after that, I plan on doing the heavy lifting.” When she started to protest, he held up a hand. “Don’t make me change the locks on you, Ivy.”
She laughed, and he did, too. It was an easy laugh, the way only siblings could so naturally connect. He suddenly missed her so much his heart hurt, even though she was standing right in front of him. Phone conversations weren’t enough. He wished she’d taken him up on his invitations to visit him in California.
“How’s the inn treating you?” she asked, settling onto a wooden rocking chair. “You know you’re welcome to sleep on my couch.”
Ivy’s apartment above the shop was homey, but smaller than most hotel rooms he frequented. The couch was nothing more than a loveseat, and he doubted his six-foot frame could sleep comfortably there for more than one night, let alone a few weeks.
A few weeks, he reminded himself. A few weeks and then this would all be behind him again. The house would be gone, never to be stepped in again. The memories would be banished. He could leave town knowing that part of his life had been exorcised.
“The accommodations are comfortable. The food’s decent. I checked out Rosemary and Thyme last night. Nice place.”
Ivy stopped rocking and frowned. “You were there last night? I was, too.” She paused. “Who were you with?”
“Adam Brown,” Henry said, rolling back on his heels. Given Ivy’s closeness with the Madison sisters, he braced himself for her reaction.
“He was a good friend to you growing up,” was all she said, however.
The best. Adam was a year younger than him, but they’d been next-door neighbors, and Henry hadn’t minded. He loved nothing more than sitting down to dinner at the Browns’ house, eating every last bite of a hot meal, sticking around until he couldn’t put it off any longer, and he was hit with the sad reality that the fantasy was over, this wasn’t his home, and his time was up. He’d hated nothing more than climbing that hill to the old, rundown farmhouse.
“How about you? Did you have a date?” Henry grinned suggestively, but Ivy pulled a face.
“Fat chance of that.” She sighed and pushed herself out of the chair. Reaching for a bunch of roses, she began shucking the leaves from their stems. “No, I was with my girlfriends. A bunch of us are bridesmaids in Grace and Luke’s wedding. There’s still a lot of planning to go over.”
Henry felt the smile fade from his face. “Was Jane there?”
“Yes.” Ivy stopped working. “Why do you ask?”
He gritted his teeth, thinking of what she must have thought, if she’d seen. He ran a hand through his hair, cursing to himself. He hoped to God she hadn’t.
“Oh, no reason,” he managed, giving a shrug to convince himself that it was really no big deal. Adam had been his friend; hell, he’d stood up for the guy at his wedding. It made sense to get together now that he was back in town. “I just can’t imagine it’s any fun to run into your ex.”
“You would know better than I would,” Ivy pointed out, resuming her task. “I think Jane’s going to be okay, though. She has Sophie, and she’s gone back to her dancing. She teaches at the studio, you know. She helps Grace at the bookstore, too.”
“The Annex,” Henry added, thinking that he had planned to work in the café for a few more hours this afternoon. Now, in light of this conversation, he wasn’t so sure. When he’d been in yesterday Jane had been pleasant, stopping by to chat. If she’d spotted him last night, chances were she’d keep her distance today.
The thought of it disappointed him. More than it should.
“You’ve been in then?” Ivy seemed pleased by this. “I’m really proud of them all. They really know how to make the best of a rotten deal.”
Henry knew she was referring to their father’s death and Jane’s divorce, but it hit a personal nerve. “So can we,” he said, his blood beginning to surge with adrenaline. “We can take that ramshackle house and make a killing on it. Now wouldn’t that be sweet?”
Ivy spared him a lazy smile and plucked some roses from a plastic container. “Let’s just hope we get the place sold. I’ll be happy for that much.”
“Who says we can’t come out on top?” Henry countered, and he sensed his sister waver. “We deserve to come out on top.” And they would this time. He’d make damn sure of it.
CHAPTER
6
Monday mornings were traditionally slow for Main Street Books. People had spent their weekend browsing and buying, and relaxing with a cappuccino and one of Anna’s famous pistachio biscotti. Grace was usually able to cover both sides of the shop on her own, but today Jane decided to stop by, just in case…
Hay bales, mums, and an arrangement of heirloom pumpkins flanked the cheerful red shop door Jane had known and loved since she was barely older than Sophie. Grace was creating a new fall-themed window display when Jane turned the knob and entered.
“You’re just in time,” Grace said breathlessly. “You can help me with this leaf garland. Every time I go to hang one end, the other side comes undone.” In her hands was a string of construction paper leaves made by the children at last week’s story hour, the name of their favorite book scrawled on one side.
Jane set down her bag and helped her sister drape the garland over the inside frame of the window. Her stomach was knotting and her heart was beginning to race at the mere thought of asking about extra shifts. It was crazy, she knew—she could tell Grace anything. She just needed to be sure she brought it up in a way that didn’t sound the alarm bells. She’d promised Rosemary that much.
“It’s quiet in here this morning,” Grace remark
ed. “How about a coffee to get the day started right?”
Jane nodded, deflated by Grace’s observation. She scanned the room, seeing just a few customers settled in armchairs or at a café table, and decided to make the most of the opportunity. She waited until Grace had come back to the front counter with their steaming mugs, then asked, “So, any more hints from Luke about the honeymoon destination?”
“No,” Grace replied with what Jane knew to be mock annoyance. Her sister had spent the past month trying to get Luke to give her a few hints, but he’d adamantly refused. Even Anna wasn’t able to get any information out of Mark—Grace had tried that tactic, as well as nudging Jane to try to pry it out of Rosemary, but if Luke’s mother had any idea what her son was planning, she was keeping her ruby-painted lips permanently zipped. “Last week I told him that at the very least, I need to know what to pack. For a moment I thought I had him, then he stopped just as he was about to speak.” Grace shrugged, but she was smiling. “Given how cold it’s already getting here, I can’t see him taking me any farther north. That would just be cruel.”
“Not for a honeymoon,” Jane said wistfully. She wrapped her arms tighter around her thick sweater. It certainly would be nice to get away, kick back on the beach somewhere warm, forget about her troubles for a bit.
“Jane, I’m sorry. If you want me to stop talking about all this, I will.”
Jane shook her head. “It’s fine, really.”
Grace looked unconvinced, and Jane sighed as she sunk into a chair at the table nearest the bakery counter. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t think I’m upset that Adam is getting remarried and—” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. For years she had longed for more children, but Adam was so distant, coming home late and leaving early, usually passing out on the couch in front of the television most nights instead of coming to bed. “I just thought that I would be the one getting on with my life first. It felt more… fair that way.” She gave a watery smile, feeling suddenly childish. Fair. There was nothing fair about your husband cheating on you. What made her think it would stop there?
