Ivy Entwined

by Laura Simcox

Chapter Twelve

  “Where the hell is it?” Colleen slapped Marcus’s hand out of the way and reached for the navigation screen on the dashboard of his car. “Did you program the GPS correctly?”

  He sighed. “We’ll find the place. Don’t worry.” Gripping the steering wheel, he bumped down yet another narrow, snow-packed street in a far-flung Syracuse neighborhood, peering out the window to look for Mustang Investments. It wasn’t as if he expected to be greeted with a neon sign since the address he’d found was for an apartment building, but it shouldn’t be this hard to find.

  “Are we even on the right street?” she asked. She glared at him, adjusting her sequined beret. “Men and directions. You guys wouldn’t know your ass from a turnip.”

  “I know where my ass is.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “And I hope to hell it doesn’t look like a turnip.”

  She waggled her pencil-thin eyebrows. “Oh, it doesn’t. But you still don’t know where the fuck we are. It’s going to be dark soon.”

  He really wished that she’d stayed home, but telling Colleen “no” wasn’t even worth the breath. Besides, she was the only person other than Ivy who he’d told about the land deal falling through. She was a good listener, and she knew most of the dirt on people in town. She was the one who confirmed that, once upon a time, Herman had done a lot of business in Syracuse, too.

  “Relax, Colleen. We’ve got plenty of time before the sun goes down.” He didn’t remind her that she hadn’t been ready to leave until three o’clock. He also could have made excuses and waited until Monday, but he didn’t want to. It had already been three days since he’d spoken with the Chamber of Commerce in Syracuse. Nothing had come of it, and he was worried. The only way to find Mustang Investments was to physically go looking for them.

  “You’re going too fast.” Colleen sighed. “We’re going to drive right past it.”

  He slowed down the car to look at the building numbers. Dammit, it had to be on this block. “You didn’t have to insist on coming with me, you know.”

  “What else was I going to do on a Sunday afternoon? Besides, I want to talk to you about Ivy.”

  When didn’t she want to talk about Ivy? He gripped the steering wheel. “We can do that on the way back. Just keep your eyes peeled for eleven forty-seven. It should be right…there.” He stopped the car and stared at an empty lot between two apartment buildings. “Son of a bitch.”

  Colleen whistled between her dentures. “That doesn’t look like an investment company.”

  His eyes scanned the buildings on either side. Eleven forty-five. Eleven forty-nine. He stared at the lot again. “There has to be some mistake.”

  But even as he said it, he knew that the only mistake was assuming that Herman had given him a real address. Now Marcus was facing the fact that Mustang Investments was invisible. The land he desperately wanted was owned by a ghost.

  “Son of a bitch!” he repeated, banging on the steering wheel. The company name was nothing but a front. But a front for who? Some crony of Herman’s that was going to develop the land but didn’t want anyone to know who they were until everything had been locked into place? Not unlike what he had been planning.

  Dammit, he didn’t have time to unravel this mess. And he couldn’t let the Megamart slip through his fingers. The best thing to do would be to present it, as planned, at the town council meeting on Wednesday. Then he could go back to Herman and sober up the old drunk until he made some sense and spilled the rest of the information Marcus needed to get his hands on the land.

  “Guess we don’t need this thing anymore,” Colleen said. She pushed on the screen and the GPS went blank. “Sorry this was a dead end, honey.” Rummaging in her purse, she pulled a roll of Life Savers out and offered them. “Want one?”

  He glanced at the crumpled tube. “No, thanks. I don’t think that will help me.”

  “Yeah, probably not. But they taste good. Here.” She fumbled a little yellow disc out and held it up.

  “Okay.” He took it from her and popped it in his mouth. “Pineapple. My favorite.”

  “Well, fuck. That’s my favorite, too and it was the last one.” She sighed and shoved the candy back in her purse. “Let’s go home.”

  He forced a chuckle and put the car in gear. As he crunched through the Life Saver, they sat in silence. Until they merged onto the interstate and Colleen cleared her throat.

  She examined her nails. “So how are things going with Ivy?”

  “Colleen…” he said in warning.

  “What? It’s a legitimate question. You two are involved.” She shot him a sly glance. “Have you knocked the headboard off her bed yet?”

  What? “I…I’m not going to answer that, so—”

  “Oh wipe that shocked look off your face. Just because I’m practically a fossil doesn’t mean I’m naive about sex. How do you think you appeared on the face of the earth?”

  “How did I appear?” He let out a cynical laugh. “My mom had sex with a stranger and then nine months later, she had a baby she had no clue how to take care of.”

  Colleen glanced at him. “You don’t know who your father is?”

  “No.” He squinted in the rearview mirror and flicked on the turn signal to pass a truck.

  “Don’t you want—”

  “No.” He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t want to talk about that. Shouldn’t have even mentioned it. I don’t know why I did.”

  “Because you trust me,” she said.

  There was silence for a moment as he passed the truck and got back into the right-hand lane. Colleen shifted in her seat. “So, back to your relationship with Ivy.”

  He groaned. “Dammit, I don’t—” The navigation screen on the dash lit up as a call came through. His eyes flicked to it, and he let out a breath. Damn.

  “Ooh! It’s Ivy,” Colleen announced. She reached out, her brightly painted nails hovering over the display. “Which one do I punch to answer?”

  Marcus coughed. “We’ll be home in twenty minutes. I’ll call her back.”

  “Aha! There it is.” Colleen’s finger flicked out, and she jabbed at the screen. “Hello?” she yelled, leaning forward.

  “Gramma? What are you doing answering Marcus’s phone?” Ivy’s throaty voice floated through the overwarm air inside the car.

  “I’m in his Lexus. It’s really fucking nice. Heated seats and everything. We were just talking about you,” Colleen replied. “You’re on speakerphone!”

  “Um, okay. You don’t have to yell, though. Where are you going?” Ivy asked.

  “We’re just taking a Sunday drive,” Marcus cut in.

  Colleen smacked his arm. “He took me on a scavenger hunt. We were trying to find out where—”

  “Where to get a Christmas present for your mom,” Marcus supplied. He didn’t look at Colleen, but he heard her annoyed sniff.

  Ivy didn’t respond for a minute, and when she did, she let out a long sigh. “You were looking for Mustang Investments, weren’t you?”

  “Yes. But all we found was a square of grass between two buildings,” Colleen said.

  He glared at her.

  “Don’t lie. It’s not good for a relationship,” Colleen whispered.

  Marcus clenched his jaw. “Look, Ivy. This doesn’t change anything. It’s just a wrinkle. I’ll get it sorted out, and I’ll have the land in plenty of time to break ground on the Megamart.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “I’m still presenting my proposal at the town council meeting Wednesday,” he continued.

  “Well, that’s why I called…I’d rather you didn’t,” she said slowly. “I want to wait until after Christmas.”

  “Why? Because you don’t want to rock the boat during the holidays? You’ve got to realize something: not all business plans can be smooth as silk. Especially not on this scale.” He winced, hating the arrogant tone in his voice. He sounded like Preston. “Look, I didn’t mean to sound like such a—”

  “Dick?�
� Ivy interrupted. “I hardly noticed. I have a lot more important things to worry about.”

  He could almost see her shrug and roll her eyes. A smile crept to the corners of his mouth. “I’m sorry, anyway. So…I’ll be at the meeting Wednesday. But I’d like to stop by your office on Monday and—”

  “Busy. All day.”

  His smile got bigger. “Well, then Tuesday.”

  “Even busier. Don’t you need to meet with Preston about the Christmas Festival?”

  He chuckled. “Yes. I’ll see you Wednesday at the meeting, Ivy.”

  “Mmmhmm. You’re scheduled to talk about the downtown-renewal progress, you know. And that’s all you need to talk about. Got it? Bye, Gramma,” she said.

  Colleen leaned forward in the seat and yelled at the dashboard, “’Bye, honey.” She pushed the screen and settled back in her seat. “You want to know something, Marcus?”

  He gave her a wary glance. “What?”

  “You’re screwed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re so smitten with my granddaughter it’s not even funny. But I’m going to laugh anyway.” And she did.

  …

  On Wednesday afternoon, Marcus stood in a corner clutching a Styrofoam cup of coffee and trying unsuccessfully to tune out the noise in the stifling meeting room. His Megamart pitch, which he’d rehearsed until it was second nature, was stuck in his brain like a rabbit in a snare.

  He swept a calculating glance around the room. Wood-paneled walls, perforated ceiling tiles, and fluorescent lighting fixtures made the room feel like a principal’s office in an elementary school. Several people milled around a folding table spread with paper plates full of half-eaten doughnuts. Two of them, Alberta and her ancient mother, flanked Ivy, chattering about Christmas decorations. At the front of the room, four empty wooden chairs sat facing out behind a boardroom-style table, folded cardboard nameplates on the table surface identifying each committee member. A lectern stood at the far end. In front of that, several rows of folding chairs were set up in a semicircle. Almost all of them were occupied by people in winter coats who glanced at him curiously. Marcus nodded and raised his coffee in salute.

  How did that damn pitch start? “Allow me to present a picture of a bright future to you…” No. That wasn’t it. He closed his eyes. “Picture this. A future so bright…” Damn. Both versions sucked. But it was all going to come tumbling out of his mouth in about ten minutes, anyway. Even though he was anxious and even though Ivy would go ballistic. She’d been circulating around the room, chatting and laughing. Yeah, that wouldn’t last.

  He had to hand it to her, she had done everything she could to present him in a good light as the sponsor of the downtown-renewal project. But since their breakfast Saturday morning, she’d been avoiding him, and they’d only spoken that one time in the car with Colleen. Had he really freaked her out that much? He hadn’t meant to. The electricity between them was undeniable, and he had no problem telling her that he wanted her. Almost as much as he wanted the Megamart. And she would come around and see things his way, both on the Megamart and their…“relationship.”

  He tried not to stare at her, but it was the only thing that calmed his nerves. She looked beautiful in her green silk blouse and curve-hugging skirt. He caught her eye and smiled. She smiled back, hesitantly.

  Marcus heard a cough, and he turned. Preston Parliament stood holding an untouched doughnut on a plate, his uptight scowl almost comical in its fierceness.

  “Morning, Parliament. Nice day, huh?”

  Preston snorted. “Sleet. It’ll turn into an ice storm by tonight.”

  Marcus affected a yawn. “Everybody will be home safe and happy by then.”

  “Safe, sure. Happy? I guess that depends on what you’re going to say today.” He walked closer. “Your name’s on the agenda but the subject area was left blank. I’m curious, Weaver. What more do you have to say about the downtown renewal that hasn’t—”

  “You’ll know soon enough,” Marcus interrupted, his eyes on Ivy as she approached them. She glanced at him, then at Preston, and gave them a tight-lipped smile.

  “Preston, do you have the Christmas Festival sign-up sheets?”

  He sighed. “Yes. Have you talked to George today? He really wants to see you.”

  Marcus watched a hint of panic creep into her eyes. Who the hell was George?

  “Uh, I’ll call him later,” Ivy answered. “Go sit down so we can start.”

  Preston walked away, muttering, and as soon as he was out of earshot, Marcus looked at Ivy. “Hey.”

  She stared at him. “Are you okay?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, why?” Before she could answer he raised his eyebrows. “Who’s George?”

  “Um, that’s not important.” She let out a quick breath.

  He bent closer. “I hope not,” he murmured.

  She cleared her throat and stepped around him quickly, clapping her hands for quiet as she walked to the front of the room.

  He chuckled.

  “Good morning again, folks. Welcome to the last public town-council meeting of the year. Please take a seat.”

  Alberta Fields dropped heavily into one of the wooden chairs in front of the boardroom table and promptly took out her bag of knitting. Ronald and Preston took seats beside her, and an empty executive chair at the other end was left open for Ivy. Across its padded, fake leather back laid an embroidered doily reading “Mayor Callahan.” Marcus smiled.

  And then he glanced toward the end of the table, where one wooden chair remained vacant. Herman was late, as usual. Well, with any luck, his chicken car was on the fritz again and he wouldn’t make it at all.

  Ivy stepped behind the lectern, barely peering over it, her eyebrows raised, and then stepped to the side with a chuckle. “Going to have to chop a few inches off that thing. My dad’s a little bit taller than me.”

  Her comment was greeted by laughter, and Marcus marveled at the way she had with people. Completely irreverent Ivy. No artifice. Just Ivy, as is. He loved how genuine she was. Loved? No. Wrong word.

  “Marcus.”

  Marcus’s head snapped around. “Yes?”

  While he’d been lost in thought, Ivy had taken a seat in the rolling office chair at the end of the table. His gaze swept over her crossed legs and tall leather boots. Subtly, she pulled down on the skirt that just covered her knees and motioned to him.

  “I just introduced you.” Ivy said the words evenly, but her eyes looked just a tad panicked. As if she thought he was going to present the Megamart instead of make a speech singing the praises of the downtown challenge. Which he was.

  He tamped down the guilt that coursed through him. “Of course.” Taking a deep breath, Marcus smoothed his tie and stepped behind the lectern. “Good morning everyone,” he began.

  He looked at the expectant faces in front of him and blinked. The Megamart pitch wouldn’t come out of his mouth. What the hell could he tell these people who were so eager for economic relief? How could he make a vague promise—one that could backfire—to people who, had treated his childhood self with such compassion after his mom had died?

  “Marcus?” Ivy’s voice floated to him, and he glanced at her. Worry creased her brow as muttering started and folding chairs scraped on the old tile floor.

  But how could he not present it? He wanted it, and the Megamart would employ so many people. He stared at the crowd, gripping the lectern and searching his mind for a way to win them over. It’s what he did for a living before, so why was he drawing a blank now? Focus.

  “Pardon me for being distracted, everyone.” Marcus slapped on his most winning grin. “I’m here today to discuss with you a proposal that will bring at least four hundred new jobs to Celebration.” He paused again.

  When he looked at Ivy, she crossed her arms and drew in a long breath.

  “Are you buying the Parliament building?” asked Alberta hopefully.

  “No, ma’am,” he replied.

 
; The muttering started again, and Ivy stared at him, daggers in her eyes.

  “Talk about your sponsorship,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Will do,” he replied, grinning. His lips hurt.

  Shit. Just get it over with. Pitch the Megamart.

  Marcus opened his mouth just as a loud knock sounded on the glass-paneled door.

  “Oh, for the love of money,” cried Alberta. “What now?” She rose from her seat and stomped to the door. Her rubber snow boots squeaked on the floor as she turned the knob and stepped back.

  Herman Weaver breezed into the room, strutting like a rooster as he removed his dingy coat. He shook loose snow from the shoulders and then flung it over an empty folding chair. His tiny, mean eyes met Marcus’s as he took his place at the committee table.

  “Herman. You’re late, you old fart,” commented Ronald even as he rose to slap the shorter man on the back. “Have a seat.”

  “Car trouble,” muttered Herman, his beady eyes still boring into Marcus.

  “Go ahead, honey,” said Alberta, wagging a plump hand at Marcus. “You were saying?”

  I can’t go through with this. Herman knows I don’t have the land to back it up, and there’s no way he’ll keep his mouth shut. Goddammit.

  Marcus felt Ivy squeeze his arm, and he looked down at her. Her eyes were still angry, and now they even had a hint of calculating sharpness to them.

  “Step aside,” she whispered.

  Leaning down, he murmured, “Why?”

  Ivy shook her head slightly. “You’re not as enigmatic as you think you are. You look like you’re about to barf. Or commit murder. Or both.”

  Marcus heard Herman’s phlegmy cough and high-pitched laugh at the end of the table. He gritted his teeth.

  “Yep, that’s what I thought,” continued Ivy. “Now go sit down before you kill him. Or before I kill you.” She nudged him out of the way and took his place at the lectern.

  “Folks, my…uh…business associate doesn’t feel well. So I’m going to talk about ‘Challenge for Change,’ a new program that aims to bring new life to downtown Celebration.”

  “I thought he was your boyfriend,” yelled a voice from the back row.