Holly and Ivy

by Fern Michaels

  “You of all people should,” Ivy said.

  It was the last profession on Earth she wanted to work in. An airline company. Managing those silver instruments of death. The nuts and bolts, the wires, the cables that had ruined her life, taken the lives of her family. She had not flown since and doubted that she ever would again. Just the thought of boarding an airplane made her nauseous. This should not be a problem, since she never planned to travel far from North Carolina ever again. And if she chose to travel, she had a perfectly good vehicle to take her anywhere she decided to go. But she opted to stay home, and that was that.

  “I suppose you’re right, but you know the story, Ivy. I guess there is not anything I can say to convince you to change your mind. However, as sole owner of the airline, if I sell, there will no longer be a guaranteed income for you in the future. I could not add that into the terms of the sale.”

  “You know I don’t care about your money. Besides, I have enough of my own. I guess I’m pretty darned lucky in the dollar department. John took out a hefty life insurance policy on both of us right after the twins were born. You know that.”

  She remembered the trip to Asheville when they’d met with their insurance agent. The twins were only three months old at the time. She had left them with Rebecca and could not wait to return to Pine City, as that was the first time she had been away from them since they were born. She had signed the required documents and agreed to whatever John and the agent discussed. She remembered thinking how she did not give a hoot about term life, whole life, and a laundry list of other policies. She just wanted to get home to her babies. And now, all these years later, his sound financial planning, as well as her father’s generous continuation of her salary and a death benefit for John, allowed her to do exactly as she pleased. Which was absolutely nothing. At least nothing of value, but she pushed this thought aside, trying to focus on her father’s words.

  “I guess I’m on another level, Ivy. I had always hoped to keep the company in the family. I guess I’m just a foolish old man, huh?” He offered up a halfhearted smile.

  Sighing, she shook her head. “You’re not foolish. We both know that’s not true. If you’re trying to make me feel sorry for you by implying that you’re old and feeble, it’s not going to work.” Ivy gave a slight smile.

  Her father caught her eye, winked at her, then said, “And I could say the same for you, minus the old and feeble part.”

  “So I’m foolish, and you think I want you to feel sorry for me?” Ivy drew in a deep breath, blowing it out so fast her hair flew away from the sides of her face.

  “Let’s just stop this. We’re not accomplishing anything, Ivy. I’m not calling you anything, and, certainly, if anyone is deserving of sympathy, it’s you. I’m not trying to make light of this disaster that your life has become. I just want you to be happy. If staying here all alone, all day, every single day of the week, letting the months and the years pass by, makes you happy, then I believe it’s time I kept my thoughts to myself. When you’re ready, you’ll make a change on your own without any prompting from me.”

  He stood up and crammed his hands in his pockets, jingling his keys as he’d been doing for as long as she could remember. He headed for the door, then stopped and turned. “Just so you know, I’m going to sell the house. I hope you’re okay with that?” he asked.

  Ivy managed a small, tentative smile. “Of course I’m fine with that. It’s not my house.”

  “No, it is not, but it was your childhood home. If you want me to hang on to it, I will.” His smile held a touch of sadness that she had only witnessed a few times in her life. “There’s really no reason to sell the place. It’s not like I need the money.”

  The gloom was getting to her. “I think it would be a great place to start a new life. Some lucky family might figure out how to turn the place into a real home.” She gazed up at him. “Again.”

  A corner of his mouth twisted upward. “Thanks, Ivy. For the again. I think we were pretty happy, once we got used to your mother’s death. Don’t you?”

  Ivy hated emotions, especially this early in the day, and did not want to talk about anything connected to her mother. She was sad about her childhood home and knew all she had to do was say the word, and it would remain as it was forever, but her dad needed to enjoy his golden years. Besides, the place was too big for one person. All the land, the apple trees, the leaves in the fall. It took a lot of work to maintain a house that size.

  “Dad, I think you need to sell the house. We were both happy there. Those times are gone, of course, so there’s no point in hanging on to a piece of property because you have an emotional attachment to it.”

  He raised his brows. “Really?” A trace of his old humor could be heard in that one single word.

  Ivy suddenly realized what she had implied. “Do not say a word.”

  “I do not believe it’s necessary. Now I have places to go and things to do.” He walked outside, then turned around to stare back at her before getting into his car. “The Upside is having their Christmas musical again this year. I’d love it if you’d be my guest.”

  Ivy rolled her eyes. This was the third year in a row he’d invited her. She hated anything remotely connected to the upcoming holidays, but for some reason, she felt compelled to say, “I’ll think about it.”

  Chapter 9

  Holly focused on the royal-blue numbers Ms. Anderson had written on the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. She neatly copied each equation on her paper, ten in all. A surprise pop quiz. They were studying fractions, and she absolutely hated them, but she had to do her best. She needed an A, and she was going to get one. She had decided this on the bus ride to school that day. And she would do it without any help or copying off Kayla’s paper, which would have been impossible, even if she had wanted to cheat. Focusing on her math, she worked and reworked the problems on her scratch sheet, drawing the pie and dividing it into sections just like Kayla had explained on the way to school.

  When Ms. Anderson rang her little bell, letting them know time was up, Holly surprised herself as she had completed all ten equations. Though she was not sure she had figured them out correctly, she had at least done her best and was satisfied with her effort.

  Roxie, who sat in the seat behind her, tugged on her braid. This was their signal. Slowly Holly moved in her seat so that it appeared as if she were simply rearranging herself into a different position. She glanced at Roxie, who mouthed, “Think you passed?”

  Holly shrugged, but grinned. Roxie knew this to be a good sign and gave her a thumbs-up in return.

  “Has everyone completed the test?” Ms. Anderson asked as she stood in front of the class. Like they had a choice.

  As the students grunted and groaned, and even let out a few snickers, the teacher collected all their papers. “This test is half of your semester grade. I hope you have all been listening and paying attention.” She stacked the papers on her desk. “I’ll grade these over the weekend and give you your results Monday.”

  Half of our semester grade? She must be joking!

  Holly felt a hurtful tug on her braid. “What?” she whispered as she turned to face Roxie, not caring if she got in trouble.

  “Half?” Roxie whispered in return.

  Holly just nodded and looked over at Kayla, who sat three rows over from them. She grinned. Of course Kayla did not have anything to worry about. Math was her best subject. Roxie stuck her tongue out at Kayla. Holly turned to face the front of the class, thinking that anything positive would work in her favor. She would start by paying complete attention to her teacher instead of sending signals to her two best friends.

  For the next ten minutes, Ms. Anderson asked the class if they’d done a good deed that they would be willing to share. Holly raised her hand, then quickly jerked it down to her side. She was going to tell the class about Terri Walker, but before she was called on, the lunch bell rang, so the opportunity slid by.

  In the hallway, muffle
d voices and high-pitched squeals of laughter echoed, lockers banged, books were dropped, and groups formed a line by the entrance to the cafeteria. It was noisy.

  “Peanut butter again,” Roxie stated while they waited in line. She held her brown paper bag in her hand.

  “No. I did not bring lunch today. I was so mad at Dad when I left, I just forgot. I’ll buy today, I have money.” Holly actually liked eating the lunches prepared by the sweet little ladies in the cafeteria. They kinda reminded her of Miss Carol and her friends. She really liked older people.

  The line slowly moved forward. By the time Holly paid for her lunch and sat down at their usual table, her stomach had begun to growl, reminding her that she had not eaten anything but a few bites of cereal this morning. She dug into the lasagna with gusto. The garlic bread and iceberg lettuce salad were so good, she wanted to get another plate, but she did not because she would feel silly.

  “Is the lasagna that good?” Kayla asked, breaking the silence. They’d dived into their lunches as if they were starving.

  “It’s the best I’ve ever had,” Holly answered. “My dad doesn’t cook much.” In point of fact, he never cooked. He just heated stuff up, she thought.

  “Your dad is weird,” Roxie said. “I think he needs to see a shrink or something. My mom thinks so, too.”

  Holly looked at Roxie as though she had just announced she was going to Mars or some other planet. “Did she really say that, or is this something you’re making up?”

  Roxie was prone to exaggeration.

  “Kind of, but not really. She just said your dad needed to talk to a professional, maybe a grief counselor or some kind of nut doctor. She said he was a major hunk and did not even realize that half the women in Pine City would do just about anything to get a date with him.”

  Holly was sure she had misunderstood Roxie.

  “Say that again, and tell it to me exactly the way your mother told you. Seriously,” Holly said. She placed her fork on her tray and pushed it aside. She was not hungry anymore.

  “Her dad is very handsome. Isn’t that what you’re saying, Roxie?” Kayla explained in her sweet, ladylike way.

  “Yep, it is. Gross as it sounds, that pretty much sums it up in a nutshell.” Roxie grinned. “No pun intended on the nutshell part.”

  Holly had never thought of her dad as anything but a dad, and, yes, a nutcase. She had never really thought too much about his lack of dates. She had teased him a few times, but he seemed to be okay being a bachelor. It was totally weird when she came to think about it.

  Holly sheepishly asked her friends, “Do you think he’s . . . well, you know, good-looking or whatever?” She was embarrassed just asking, but she needed to know this. Maybe she could help her dad in some way if she understood more about him. Never having given his appearance much thought, now that she thought about it, he really was a nice-looking man. She did not look like him much, maybe her nose, but a nose was a nose.

  “Gawd! Why are we wasting time talking about your dad? Yeah, most of the single women in town would give their left tit to have a date with your dad. There. Does that answer your question?”

  All three were silent; then they burst out laughing.

  “You are so nasty, Roxie. I think I’m going to tell your mom,” Holly spurted out, but she was still laughing at Roxie.

  “I am just repeating what she said.”

  Curious, Kayla asked, “Does your mom really tell you this stuff?”

  “Yes. Well, not actually face-to-face. I hear her talking to her friends. She’s pretty open with them. I heard her say that Ms. Anderson had a crush on your dad, and she wants to invite him to Thanksgiving dinner at her house this year.”

  Holly’s heart raced. “I swear to God, Roxie, if you are making this stuff up just to get my mind off that math quiz, I am going to fill your backpack with frogs.” Roxie was terrified of frogs. “Those giant, ugly bullfrogs you really do not like.”

  “I am telling the truth. I swear it. I was eavesdropping on her, kind of. She talks on her cell phone all the time. It’s hard not to listen in. So maybe if you could get Ms. Anderson to cozy up to your dad, she’ll give you an easy A, then you can focus on the musical.” Roxie’s expression stilled and grew serious. “You need to do whatever you can to let Ms. Anderson know that you know that she thinks your dad is hot.”

  Holly grew silent. An idea began to take shape in her mind, but she needed to think about it before sharing it with her two best friends.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours? I know you too well,” Roxie demanded authoritatively.

  “Yeah, you look very weird, Holly. In a mysterious way. Not like ugly, just odd,” Kayla noted. “Hurry up, because we have only got five minutes until the bell rings.”

  “Ms. Anderson called my dad once and asked him if she could tutor me after class, the math stuff, and all. He was not very happy, and I think he told her he did not need her help, but what if she insisted? What if I asked her to come to my house and tutor me? They’d be together, and maybe they’ll hit it off, and I’ll study hard, then maybe, and this is a big maybe, Dad might take an interest in her and I can get back to sneaking over to Miss Carol’s to practice. Do you think this is possible? You know, my dad is not the friendliest person in the world, or even in Pine City. Actually, he’s mostly quiet and keeps to himself. I simply do not know what to do.”

  Holly had to make this work for herself and her dad. More than anything, she had to figure out a way to meet with Miss Carol and practice until her lungs burst. She was not going to miss the opportunity to sing in front of Paul Larson.

  The bell rang.

  “We’ll discuss this on the bus, Holly. Do not worry, we’ll come up with something if we put our minds together.”

  Holly picked up her lunch tray and took it to the window where the trays and utensils were stacked. Roxie and Kayla tossed their brown bags in the garbage can. They headed back to Ms. Anderson’s class with a new plan, and it did not involve any sort of mathematical equation.

  Chapter 10

  After her father left, Ivy spent the morning folding laundry and scrubbing the bathrooms. Why this sudden desire to clean had overtaken her, she had no clue, but she was active, burning off this newfound energy. These were mindless tasks. She used to have a housekeeper when she worked, but now that she had to do the chores herself, she realized their therapeutic value. It was as if she were trying to wipe away all the negativity in her mind; by scrubbing her house, she felt something odd overtaking her. She had not even bothered to take her morning hike or turn on the television. She was actually doing what most normal people did. She felt good about herself for the first time since . . . since her family had died. Maybe her father was onto something. Eight years was a long time. She would never stop grieving for her family, but maybe she could start cleaning up her act. And scrubbing the house from top to bottom was a good place to start.

  Upstairs, she walked past Elizabeth’s and James’s locked bedrooms. Tears sprang to her eyes, but they were not really tears of grief. They were tears of a new beginning. Her dad’s visit this morning had unlocked something inside her, and it felt as though a floodgate had opened, drowning her with held-back emotions. Not sure that what she was about to do wouldn’t bring her grief back in full force, she knew it was time. She had been putting this off far too long.

  Ivy went downstairs to the kitchen and began her search. After digging through four drawers filled with a variety of junk, she found what she was looking for.

  The business card for Andy’s, the name of the locksmith who still had the keys to the locks she had had installed on Elizabeth’s and James’s bedroom doors. She held the card out in front of her, saw that her hands were trembling, and was about to toss the card back into the drawer. But something made her stop. She would make the call. One step at a time. Just because she had the keys did not mean she had to enter the rooms. So she picked up the phone and dialed the number on the card.

  Ten
minutes later, she grabbed her purse and her car keys and headed downtown to pick up the keys to the children’s bedrooms. She did not bother with her hair or makeup; she hadn’t in years and decided that a trip to the locksmith was no time to start. Surely, all the cosmetics in the house had expired, anyway, and were useless now. It did not matter, and why the random thought had even occurred to her seemed odd, given the way she had been living for the past eight years. She could not recall the last time she had fixed her hair or worn makeup.

  Putting her strange thoughts aside, she pulled into the parking lot at Andy’s and went inside. It smelled musty, and oily, but this was a locksmith’s, not Macy’s, where she used to shop for perfume.

  A man in his midfifties, with a big belly and a bald head, sat in an old, faded green recliner behind a glass counter, which was at least ten feet long. Inside the glass case, there was a variety of locks and keys.

  “Can I help you?” he asked in a pleasant voice as he slowly pushed himself out of the chair.

  “I called about picking up the key to my locks.” She was sure this was the man she had spoken with earlier. She looked at the name sewn in dark blue letters on his shirt. ANDY. She was also sure that this was the man who’d installed the locks, but he’d aged and put on a few pounds.

  “Yes, I know. I remember installing those locks myself. You are ready for the keys, I’m guessing.”

  Was she?

  She sighed. “I don’t really know yet, but I think it’s time I have them.”

  “I understand, Mrs. Fine. I lost my son three years ago in Baghdad in a terrorist bombing. He was twenty-eight, loved serving his country. He was a Green Beret, best of the best. Susan, his wife, was pregnant with their first child when he was killed. But you gotta keep on living. She’s a great mom, and she remarried about three months ago. Next to Andrew, Richard is the greatest. Loves little Andy like his own son. You ever remarry?”