Ivy Entwined

by Laura Simcox

  Quit trying to fool yourself.

  “Damn,” he muttered aloud, pushing himself to his feet. He yanked open the warped bedroom door and, bracing himself, walked down the stairs into the living room. Colleen sat on an armchair, holding court in her light-up sweater. He tried to catch her eye, but she was laughing with Bill Benson, the car dealer. All around her, people mingled, some of them admiring ornaments on the tree and others grouped in clumps just drinking and chatting. They all had on hideous sweaters, but none as hideous as his.

  He scanned the room for Ivy, but no luck. He adjusted the cuffs of his sweater and put on his best grin, moving through the living room and dining room, where the table was loaded with food and surrounded by people. Several of them stared at him and smiled back, but nobody was overly friendly. That is, until he walked into the kitchen and out of nowhere a large hand slapped him on the back.

  “Heya, Weaver,” Ronald Watkins said in a booming voice.

  Marcus stumbled forward a step and grabbed the edge of the counter. He turned. “Hey, Ronald. How are you?” Drunk much?

  “Couldn’t be better.” Ronald lifted a dainty cup to his lips. “This here’s something else. Can’t taste the alcohol in it, but you sure can feel it.” He chortled.

  Marcus smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Have you seen Ivy?”

  “Yep. She’s getting paper plates or something,” Ronald answered with a wide sweep of his burly hand. “You want some punch?”

  “Sure.” Marcus glanced to where Ronald had pointed and spotted a curvy, jean-clad backside emerging from under the table near the door. It wiggled a bit and then a slim waist and glossy, blond hair appeared as Ivy popped out.

  “Ow! Fu—uh, fudge,” she said as she bumped her head. She dragged a paper grocery bag out and plunked it onto the table. Standing up, she brushed a piece of lint from the front of her bright red sweater. She turned around and he glanced at the front: a little kitten was popping out of a gift box, winking.

  He smiled. “That’s…a nice sweater.”

  “Thanks,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Yours, too.” She walked forward and reached up to his shoulder, turning him around. “Tag’s still on.” Touching his arm, she moved around him and pulled a pair of scissors out of a drawer. “Come here.”

  He bent his knees and stared straight ahead as her fingers brushed the back of his neck. God, she smelled good.

  “Done,” she said. And then she bent closer, whispering in his ear. “I picked this sweater out just for you. It’s so sexy.” She snickered and threw the tag in the trash can.

  “Mmmhmm. Figures.”

  There was a loud cough in the doorway, and Marcus turned around. Ronald stood there, his eyes glassy. He thrust a cup toward Marcus. “Well, guess I better be sociable,” Ronald said as he stuffed a mini-quiche into his mouth, lumbering back into the dining room.

  Marcus set the cup on the island and gazed at Ivy, trying to be nonchalant, but realizing that his heart was probably in his eyes anyway. She stared back, her teeth caught on her lower lip.

  There was a burst of laughter from the dining room, and she leaned to the side, glancing in. “Dad’s telling bad jokes again,” she said. Her voice sounded a bit nervous, and she smoothed her palms down the front of her jeans. “So, I was wondering—”

  “Are you—” Marcus began at the same time. He stopped. “You first.”

  “I was wondering if you were ready for tomorrow.” The corners of her lips lifted slightly.

  “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” he said. But the truth was, he was dreading the meeting, dreading seeing the look on her face when she discovered that the bakery was off the table and in his pocket.

  She nodded. “What were you going to ask me?”

  “Actually, I have no clue what I was going to say,” he answered. “I just…I’m not sure what we can safely talk about, considering that tomorrow, the outcome of the meeting is only going to make one of us happy.”

  “I know,” she said, frowning. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  He stepped around the island toward the coffeemaker. When he was out of sight of the doorway, he motioned for her to follow. When she did, he caught her around the waist and pulled her close. “Let’s just not think about it tonight, okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispered, lifting her chin.

  As he bent to kiss her, the back door flew open and Delia stomped in.

  “Don’t mind me,” she said, out of breath. She carried an armload of two-liter 7Up bottles.

  Ivy scrambled out of his embrace. “Mom, why didn’t you ask for help?”

  “Just grab a couple,” Delia said in response.

  Marcus reached across the island and pulled two bottles out of her arms. They were slippery with snow. “Nature’s refrigerator?” he asked.

  Delia smiled. “Had to make room somewhere,” she said. “You two go back to what you were doing. I can make more punch later.” With a tug on the sides of her candy-cane-striped cardigan, she walked into the dining room.

  The minute she was out of sight, Marcus grabbed Ivy’s hand. “Care for a walk in the snow?” he asked.

  “I can’t leave. The whole town council is here.” She sighed, wiggling out of his grasp. “Well, all of them except for your uncle.”

  “Yeah, well, he likes to do his drinking alone.”

  She looked at him for a moment, a tender expression on her face. “Come on, let’s go circulate.”

  For the next half hour, he wandered around the living room, sipping a glass of punch. Ronald had been right, it certainly was potent. It was no wonder that the people Marcus was half listening to were a bit giddy. He tried to pay attention to them, but he always had one eye on Ivy. Even in a fantastically ugly sweater, she shone like the sun. Her hair gleamed and her smile dazzled. She was gracious, funny, and the star of the party, but he’d bet she didn’t even realize it.

  With a sigh, he walked to the fireplace and set his punch on the mantle. As he did, he glimpsed something that made his eyes widen. There were five stockings hung there, one for each of the Callahans, and one with his name on it. Oh, no. As if he didn’t already feel like a complete asshole.

  “You’re in like Flynn, aren’t you, Weaver?” Preston said. He sat in an armchair, half obscured by the Christmas tree.

  Marcus glanced at him. “Pardon?”

  “I know what you’re up to,” Preston said, scooting to the edge of the chair. “Living here, worming your way into the family.”

  Marcus noted that Preston hadn’t bothered with an ugly sweater. He wore a cashmere sport coat and a monogrammed tie—he looked as if he belonged at a private club instead of at a middle-class house party.

  “Think whatever you want, Parliament,” Marcus responded. “But you have some explaining to do.”

  “About what?” Preston stood up.

  Marcus leaned close. “Why did you tell Ivy that your buddy was all set to make an offer? I thought that we agreed to let that lie until after the meeting tomorrow.”

  Preston looked down and twisted his fingers. “I was just trying to keep up appearances. Ivy’s been hounding me like crazy. You don’t know what it’s been like. I had to tell her something good or she might have…”

  “Might have what?”

  “I got the impression that she was about to fire me, okay?” Preston looked up, his expression stubborn. “If I lose my job, I lose my automatic place on the town council, and what good would that do us?” he said. Loudly.

  Marcus clapped a hand on Preston’s shoulder. “Keep your voice down.” He steered him through the living room and into the hall. “You created the makings of a shit storm, Parliament. And it would be best if you just backpedaled. Tell Ivy that your buddy is having second thoughts. Otherwise, she’ll walk into the meeting tomorrow thinking she’s got a bird in hand. You want her to be embarrassed like that?”

  “You’re forgetting something, Weaver. We own the bakery. Both of us. So I get a say in how and whe
n we sell it,” Preston spat out. “The Parliaments don’t take a backseat to anyone, least of all, you.”

  Marcus sighed. “I couldn’t care less about your family pride. But you know as well as I do that we need to keep this quiet until the council approves the Megamart tomorrow. Then we can sell the bakery. Hell, I don’t care if you call George the minute after Ivy bangs the gavel to close the meeting.”

  There was a cough behind them, and Marcus closed his eyes. He knew that cough. Turning, he stared right into Brian’s glittering eyes. “Brian, I…can explain.”

  Brian just stared at him. “Not interested. Nor do I feel like wasting my time listening.”

  Preston cleared his throat and held up his hands. “Hey. There’s no need for this to be a problem, all right? Marcus and I are just trying to help the town. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Shut up, Parliament,” Marcus said.

  Preston glared at him. “I don’t see what the big deal is. Ivy’s not going to find out.”

  Brian didn’t respond. He glanced at Preston, gave Marcus a grim smile, and stepped to the side.

  Ivy stood there, her arms ramrod straight. Her face was colorless, her eyes dull. Not even a spark of anger lit them. Marcus realized then that an invisible wall had just slammed down between them, and as much as he wanted to reach for her, he knew it would be useless.

  She turned and walked away.

  “Pack your suitcase,” Brian said. “You’re not welcome here anymore.”

  …

  On Tuesday afternoon, Ivy stared out the window in her office at the leaden sky. She poked at the container of food sitting by her computer and then shoved it away. Her stomach grumbled, but just the thought of forcing herself to take even one bite of the now-cold cheeseburger made her sick. Wearily, she stood up and walked to the recliner in front of her desk. She eased into it and pulled her legs up underneath her. Twenty minutes until the town-council meeting from the depths of hell. Twenty minutes until they voted on the Megamart.

  And Marcus would win, because she no longer had leverage. He’d yanked that away days ago, and with the full knowledge that she was unaware, went on pretending to be something that he definitely wasn’t—decent. He’d lied. He’d manipulated. And the worst part? He’d slept with her and acted as if it had mattered. Even though she’d done the same thing to him, when they’d been together in her old bedroom, she hadn’t been hiding anything anymore. Except her love.

  When she’d discovered his deceit last night she’d been furious. Like, literally, she’d seen spots in front of her eyes. But when they’d faded, she was left with nothing but emptiness and the knowledge that calling him and Preston out in front of the council wouldn’t do a damn bit of good. It would only make things worse. And it would make her look ineffectual and foolish. She might have lost her heart to Marcus, but she wasn’t about to lose her reputation.

  Anger welled up again, and she got to her feet, taking her folio of notes from the desk. Not that they would do any good since most of them were about the bakery prospectus, but it felt better to have something in her hands. She grabbed her gavel and walked into the outer office, forcing a smile for Sherry. “I’m going down early. See you in a few minutes.”

  Sherry rose from her desk and picked up a legal pad. “I’m coming with you.”

  Ivy walked down the hall beside her, halfheartedly trying to act normal. “You have big Christmas Eve plans tomorrow?”

  “My son is flying in. We’re having a nice dinner.” Sherry touched Ivy’s arm and stopped walking. “What’s wrong, honey?”

  Everything.

  “I’m tired is all,” Ivy said.

  “So am I, but I don’t look like I’ve been to hell and back.” Sherry gave her a small smile. “What’s going on?”

  Ivy took a deep breath. “I can’t talk about it right now. I’m just trying to stay calm and get through the meeting.” She glanced at Sherry, who was opening her mouth. “Don’t ask me about Marcus. Whatever was there is over. End of story.” She pressed her lips together.

  Sherry nodded. “Okay. I’ve got your back.”

  “I know,” Ivy said. “You, I can count on. Let’s go.” She walked down the stairs to the second floor and down the hall to the meeting room. When she stepped through the doorway, she stopped short.

  Marcus stood by the window, turning when he saw her. “Ivy.”

  “Good afternoon,” she said politely.

  He walked toward her, and she moved behind the conference table to pull out a chair. She sat and began flipping through her folio. Sherry sat beside her, glaring daggers at Marcus.

  “Do you need something, Mr. Weaver?” Sherry asked.

  “I was hoping to speak with the mayor.” He put his hands on the front of the table and leaned in, his tie swinging forward.

  Ivy had a barely controllable urge to grab it and yank it into a noose. “I’m busy preparing for the meeting,” she murmured, not looking up.

  Rapid footfalls sounded in the hallway, and Alberta sailed into the room, huffing. “Hello!” She plunked her purse on a folding chair and fumbled with her scarf. “Marcus, dear. So nice to see you.”

  “You too, Alberta.” He helped her out of her coat.

  “I heard a rumor that you left town,” she said in a loud whisper. “So glad that isn’t true. Where are you spending Christmas? Because you know you’re welcome at my house.”

  He coughed. “Thanks, but I have plans.”

  She waved a hand in the air and giggled. “Oh, how silly of me. Of course you’ll be at the Callahans’.”

  Marcus didn’t comment, and Ivy forced herself not to look at his face. She glanced at Alberta instead. “Hi, Alberta.”

  “Hi, dear.” As Alberta pulled her gloves off and folded them, Ronald plodded into the room.

  “Let’s make this quick,” he said, running a hand over his pasty face. “I don’t feel real great.”

  “Well, what did you think was going to happen after you drank nine cups of Delia’s punch last night?” Alberta tsked.

  Ronald grunted and sat down heavily, not answering.

  Ivy felt an elbow nudge her side, and she glanced over at the legal pad in front of Sherry. There was a stick figure of a man, complete with a tie and a briefcase. The mouth was drawn with exaggerated sharp teeth. Underneath it was scrawled the word “butthole.”

  The absurdity of it was too much for her nerves. As she stared at the grotesque sketch, Ivy felt a smile breaking on her face and she covered her mouth. She reached into her folio for a pen, and then she wrote underneath it. “No shit.”

  Sherry didn’t even try to hide her grin. She picked up her pen and wrote, “let’s hope not, or that would be a big mess.”

  Anxious laughter bubbled up and Ivy snorted. She turned it into a loud cough and then added sniffles for effect. “Stop it,” she wrote on the paper and then folded the page up. Today was bizarre enough as it was. She didn’t need to turn into a psycho on top of it.

  “You’re not getting sick are you, Ivy?” Preston asked from the doorway. He walked into the room and sat down next to her.

  “Hope not,” she answered. She looked around the table, avoiding Marcus’s stare. “Where’s Herman?”

  Alberta sighed. “He was parking when I got here. Double parking. One of these days I’m going to call the cops and teach him a lesson.”

  Herman scuttled in. “Mind your own business.” He yanked out a chair and sat down.

  “Let’s get started.” Ivy picked up the gavel and tapped the table. “Welcome to the last Celebration town-council meeting of the year. There’s only one item on the agenda today. We’re here to discuss Marcus Weaver’s proposal to build a Megamart.” She forced the straining muscles in her shoulders to relax. “You were each mailed a copy of the prospectus. Does anyone have any questions?”

  Nobody said a word.

  After a few seconds, Alberta raised her hand. “I vote nay.” She glanced at Marcus, who sat near the end of the table by th
e door. “Sorry, dear. It’s a lovely proposal, but the fact remains that your store is just not the right fit for Celebration.”

  Ronald turned to her, surprised. “I was going to say that.”

  She blinked at him. “Really?”

  Herman coughed. “My vote is also nay.” He glared at Marcus. “That’s three versus two. Looks like you lost. Shame.” He pushed away from the table.

  Ivy froze as a small thrill went through her, but she tamped it down. It wasn’t over yet. “Wait, Herman,” she directed. “We haven’t taken a formal vote.”

  Marcus stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. “Before you vote, I’d like to say something please.” He glanced around the table, his face impassive. “I’ll make you a deal. Approve my proposal, and I’ll double my contribution to the downtown-renewal project. It will extend the program for a year. And once the Megamart is built, if any of the participating businesses find themselves…vulnerable because of its existence, then I will prop them up.”

  No one spoke for a moment, and then Alberta cleared her throat nervously, the high-pitched sound splitting the silence in the room.

  “Oh, well that might change things,” she said. She nudged Ronald. “Wouldn’t it?”

  Ivy’s heart sped up. Now. She should mention the bakery now.

  She glanced at Preston, and he ducked his head. She looked up at Marcus, who met her eyes for a split second and then looked away. His hands were shaking slightly, but she noticed before he put them behind his back.

  As she tapped her pen on the papers in front of her, an idea came to her. It wasn’t quite a complete win, but it wasn’t a total loss either.

  Her heart raced in her chest. “I’d be willing to consider your suggestions, Marcus,” she said. “If there was an alternative large employer besides the Megamart. We can’t have the town relying on it as the main employer. It’s too risky. Look what happened to the Parliament Bakery.”

  Ronald grunted in agreement. “That’s what I’ve always thought. We’ve gotta fill that place first.” He turned in his seat and peered at Preston. “Is it still for sale?”