Her father wrapped his arms around her and said in a rough voice, “I have a feeling nothing is going to work like you planned it, baby. Tell me.”
Ivy pressed her forehead harder against his shoulder and willed the tears away. Everything made perfect sense, so there was no need to cry. “We’re splitting up, Pop.” Her choked voice was upsetting, so she tried again. “It’s sad, but it makes perfect sense. We were so young. Now we want different things. And that’s okay.”
She’d attempted to convince herself of that more than once.
Nothing was okay.
“I’m young. He’s young. He wants to go do something new somewhere else. I need to stay here.” To be here to run Coming to Town and take care of her father and be what everyone expected her to be.
“I’m going to sleep here tonight. Then, after the holiday is over, we’re going to figure out a permanent solution. He’s searching for jobs in Portland and Burlington. One time, he mentioned moving to Los Angeles with Ben so he could try for the LAFD.” Her voice broke on the last. How would she live without seeing him? And if she needed him? In Los Angeles, he’d be so far away. “I mean, if I can keep the house—” Every bit of air was gone. After gasping to catch up, Ivy tightened her hold on her father’s shirt. Old flannel was comforting anyway.
“Deep breaths.” Her father patted her back. “Take deep breaths.”
Ivy closed her eyes, desperate to find the control she’d had in a stranglehold all day long.
If she fell apart, her father would worry.
She would worry.
“Ever wonder why this couch sits here?” Her father’s voice was low. He’d been forced to talk her off an emotional rollercoaster a few times since her mother died, but neither of them had gotten comfortable with it
“Well, it can’t be because of its beauty or style.” If couches came in old, soft flannel, that’s what her father would choose for his office. Instead, with the weird affection of his gender for hides, he’d picked an oversized leather couch. Fifteen years ago, it had been soft and shiny. Now, it needed to be put out to pasture.
“I’ve spent a few nights sleeping on that couch.” Her father stepped back. “But never by my choice.”
He dipped his head. “Your mother had firm opinions, mainly about me missing pageants and musicals and plays and family dinners because I was working. I bunched up on this couch that was too short and thought of every single angry response I could, and then I went home. This couch is uncomfortable, Ivy. You don’t want to sleep on if it you don’t have to. Nothing was more important than her, not even being right. And I was right more often than not. I worked hard but she deserved that. You did, too.”
Ivy ran her fingers through her ponytail. “If you believe that, why won’t you let me expand? Why close the tours on Christmas Eve? That’s the biggest day of the year, Pop. Tour prices double, but so do the crowds.”
“And the wear and tear on the guys running the buses quadruples. Their families miss them.” Her father squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t they?”
She met his stare in the shadowy office. If anyone could know how those kids might feel while their dads were out working and Christmas Eve was like any other day, it was Ivy.
“Okay, they do. I get that.” She sighed. “But me? I could run the Rudolph bus. What else am I going to be doing?” The crack in her voice was back, this time with a sting in her nose that suggested tears were imminent.
“Talk to Josh. Wrap your presents together. A dose of the season could repair whatever’s been broken.” Her father sighed. “Portland isn’t that far, kid. Got good schools there. Burlington’s close, too. Maybe it’s time to try it the way I always wanted you to. Go to school, make sure running a small-town tour bus is what you want for the rest of your life. While you have the chance, baby.”
So many things bubbled in her brain. Didn’t he want her to stay? Didn’t he value her contribution to this business? Did he think she was wrong? What about Josh? He was leaving her.
“He isn’t leaving you. I see that on your face.” Her father gave her a shake. “The kid’s still in your house, waiting for you to come home. Even if he’s hunting for another job, what makes you so sure he’d go without you?”
Ivy folded on the couch.
She’d never once imagined he was planning for both of them.
Ivy was certain she’d made it clear she was never leaving Christmas Town. This was home. Her mother was buried in the oldest cemetery in town. Her father had been released from the small hospital. Josh’s family might as well be hers and most of them were rooted here, too.
Leaving made no sense.
And sometimes she wondered when Josh would decide she was too much trouble anyway.
“Before I go, I will say, in the twenty years we had, I can easily count the number of times I slept on the couch. Less than ten.” Her father tapped the doorframe. “Now that she’s gone and I miss her daily, I take pride in the fact that I have so few nights to regret.”
Ivy couldn’t have come up with a response if her life depended on it.
“Christmas Day. Lunch. You are bringing the fudge, right?” Her father pointed. “And your husband, of course. No need to lie to me, but I’d like to talk to the kid. I promise not to call him Crash.”
Ivy nodded. On her third try, her voice worked. “You bet. I’ve got the fudge. And I’ll see what I can do about Josh.”
When her father left, banging the door solidly to make sure it locked behind him, Ivy stretched out on the couch and stared at the dark ceiling. The light on her father’s desk cast a small circle of light, but she didn’t need it to know what was on the cluttered walls. Family photos, at least half of them that were taken without him. He’d run his business by himself for years, so he had missed a lot of her childhood. The rest of the décor was Christmas in nature, as any visitor would expect from a business in Christmas Town.
She’d always loved this room.
How many times had she begged him to let her come to work with him?
When he’d finally agreed the summer she turned sixteen, Ivy had been thrilled. Working in her father’s business was all she’d ever thought of.
Then her mother got sick and died. Josh caught her as she was falling. And then it was time to start living the rest of her life.
She’d never considered going away because she needed this safety, the people who knew her story and treated her carefully, and the boy who never once walked when he could run made her feel so alive.
The tears that leaked from her eyes made Ivy so mad, but there was nothing she could do. When her phone jingled to signal she had a text, a sob escaped.
Dash and I are turning in. Hope it was a good night. Love, J.
Love, J. That was how he’d signed every note and card and text for eight years.
Sleep wasn’t coming. Ivy rolled on her side and cradled the phone close, in case he needed her.
Chapter 4
Thursday, December 24
Christmas Eve
Josh dropped the last piece of bacon on the pile he’d cooked, hoping that he wouldn’t be eating his Christmas Eve breakfast alone.
The phone he’d been gripping like a lifeline ever since he’d hit Send vibrated. Dash shifted eagerly as Josh bobbled the spatula in his good hand to grab the phone before it rattled off the counter.
“Nope. Ben.” He tried to relax his shoulders as he read. His oldest brother was home after three years and he was determined to make the trip count.
Heard about the wrist. Way to go, Crash. No luck finding the bell but I’ll see you at dinner.
Josh scrubbed his hand through his hair and formulated different responses to his oldest brother’s text. Finding the perfect gift for his parents was a challenge, not because they were so picky but because they didn’t want things. His mother would have been happy if he’d dumped a pile of dirty laundry at her feet as long as he made it home for dinner and midnight mass.
Ben and his father both col
lected fire tools and memorabilia, and his oldest brother was obsessed with finding the perfect, one-of-a-kind gift that no one else could give his father.
He was the successful one.
Rick was the good one.
And Josh was Crash.
See you at dinner. His answer was short, to the point, and all he could come up with that morning.
Josh scrolled through all of Ivy’s messages, hoping there’d been some kind of glitch. Maybe she’d sent him an apology last night but it got lost in the stream somewhere.
The smell of burning bacon finally grabbed his attention.
“She didn’t answer my text, Dash. What does that mean?” Josh glanced at the dog perched silently at his feet. Every so often, the dog would scoot half an inch closer, but his eyes never wavered from the sizzling skillet.
“She wasn’t sure what to say. That’s all it means.” Ivy stood in the arched opening to the tiny living room, her cheeks bright red from the cold. Her eyes were serious as he studied her face. Her fatigue was easy to read. She hadn’t had any more rest than he had. “I stared at my phone most of the night while I tried to come up with the perfect answer.” She smiled as Dash bounded across the linoleum and hit her in the stomach with doggy exuberance. “You worked some magic. This guy is already healthier.”
Josh grunted as he poured eggs into another skillet and concentrated on cooking them perfectly. Losing his temper would do nothing to change the course they were on.
All he’d done since the day he’d zeroed in on Ivy Carstairs was dance to her tune. The one time he insisted on changing the song, she’d left him alone.
But it was Christmas Eve, a time to concentrate on what was most important.
Winning would be satisfying, but only until he realized how lonely that would leave him. Giving up would be easier, but she was worth hard work.
“Any answer would have been better than none,” Josh said with a quick look at her over his shoulder. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
She bit her lip, the red in her cheeks spreading into an embarrassed flush. “You’re right. I apologize. I know I’m acting like a spoiled brat who pouts when she doesn’t get her way, but I’m lost right now.” Ivy pulled off the bright red cap he’d always thought made her look like a cheerful elf. She brushed her bangs back into a tangled mess.
“I am, too.” Josh dodged the dog and slid a plate across the counter to her. “But I will always worry about you, Ivy.”
She blinked quickly. If she started crying, he’d know the apocalypse had arrived. He’d only seen her cry one time. Her mother’s funeral had been so surreal to him. As a kid, he’d never understood that death comes when least expected. Ivy’s mother had been so loved by this town, they’d all mourned.
Ivy’s heartbroken sobbing had wet his coat the morning they buried her mother. Since they’d been out on a total of two dates at that point, he’d felt manly for letting her cry on his shoulder. On the inside, he’d been desperate to find his own mother, to hug her, and make sure she was safe and well and whole.
Today, Ivy didn’t cry. Instead, she picked up a fork. “You seem to be doing okay, wrist-wise. How is it? Pop said you were wounded by a toddler. Somehow, I missed that part of the story.”
He hadn’t wanted to tell her that part of the story. At least she hadn’t added a “Crash” to the end. “Fine. A little sore, but it’s easier to move today. If you don’t mind, you can help me wrap it, though. I’m headed out to the pond. I can’t work my shift, so I might as well take another volunteer slot.”
“Climb back up on the horse that threw you.” She smiled at him but none of her sparkle reached her eyes.
“Yeah.” Josh chomped hard on a piece of bacon. At this rate, they’d be talking about the weather next instead of what mattered.
Ivy shifted eggs around on her plate. “Pop knows.” She dropped the fork with a loud clatter. “He was waiting for me at the office when I rolled in last night. I couldn’t lie to him, but he’ll keep the secret.”
“Did he pop a cork, pour a glass of bubbly?” Gus Carstairs had never liked him. If Josh thought too long about how Ivy’s life course had changed thanks to him, he could understand it.
“Of course not.” Ivy shifted in her seat. Josh waited for her to ask the question he could see in her eyes, but she jumped up to pour them both cups of coffee.
Josh knew how important her father was to Ivy. In the same situation, Josh would have a hard time leaving his own father.
Maybe he should be more patient, stick out another year in Christmas Town. He wondered how she’d react to an extension. They could postpone this decision. She’d sleep next to him that night and he might actually rest. Without her, he was afraid he’d never get comfortable again.
“How’s Dash doing? His manners are good.” Ivy settled uncomfortably in the hand-me-down dining chair that they’d spray-painted black in a bad attempt at turning trash to treasure. He’d wanted to strip the wood and try a new stain, but Ivy knew black would make her mother’s red Christmas tablecloth more modern. And when the table was set, he had to admire her eye.
On regular days like today, the black furniture fit their out-of-date kitchen not at all.
Cooking, decorating, where they wanted to live—almost everything about his marriage was a mismatch.
“Do you think he’s lost?” Ivy asked as she bent her head to stare into Dash’s eyes. He slurped a pink tongue quickly up the side of her nose. Ivy was laughing as she returned to her plate. If he wasn’t mistaken, the dog was wearing a proud grin.
Until she picked up a piece of bacon.
Then Dash got serious again.
“I don’t know. He’s been on his own for a while. He’s so thin. He slept in the bed last night.” That would send her through the roof. “And his muddy footprints are drying on the tile.” Josh shoveled a pile of eggs in his mouth and waited.
“That’s nice.” Ivy pinched off bacon and held it for Dash. The loud thump of the dog’s tail on the kitchen floor would have been funny if Josh had been able to process what was happening.
“You have nothing to say to all that? And feeding him from the table?” He pressed his hand to her forehead. “Are you okay?”
She sighed. “No. Not okay, but you’re right. My dog wouldn’t beg at the table.” She popped the bacon in her mouth and bent to rub the dog’s ears. “Sorry, Dash. I brought you something anyway.”
Josh set down his fork as she stood and dug through her purse. She pulled out a toy and a rawhide candy cane. “Where did you find a pet store open this early on Christmas Eve?”
“I called Jules. I knew she’d be out walking dogs because so many people are traveling for the holiday. She had several on-hand for all the good boy-dogs and girl-dogs this year.” Ivy smoothed a long loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I figure Dash deserves the benefit of the doubt.”
Dash pranced in place as Ivy waved the rawhide. Josh was afraid Ivy was going to lose fingers when she offered the dog his treat, but Dash carefully plucked the rawhide from her hand and headed for the couch at a run.
“Should we call the shelter? Just to make sure they aren’t open this morning?” Josh asked, purely to test her. He had no intention of taking the dog to the shelter.
What she did after he left Christmas Town would be on Ivy.
“I don’t want to give him up. I’ve decided to make a change. I’m starting with the dog. I’ll call on Monday to make sure no one’s searching for him. If not, he’s going to be Dash Fisher.” She wiped her hand on her jeans. “And you said it couldn’t be done. This is me, being flexible.”
When he met her stare, he had a flash of understanding how that bacon had felt under the intense doggy interest. She wanted this concession to make a difference to him.
If she understood what it meant, that he had good input for this marriage, it might.
“What time do you have to be at Reindeer Meadow?” Ivy straightened her shoulders. “We should start wrapp
ing.”
“Yeah, I might have to hide gifts like the Easter bunny this year.” He held his hand and wiggled his swollen fingers. The spreading reddish-purple tone of his wrist would be a good enough reason to pull out the bandages.
“You should sit this one out or coach from the sidelines.” Ivy scooped the plates, rinsed them in the sink, and loaded the dishwasher.
Like she had every day for as long as they’d been married. He cooked. She cleaned.
“I already put everything out.” Josh pointed at the stack of wrapping supplies. “I knew you’d be in a hurry to get things done.”
She always was.
“And you didn’t put up the rest of the decorations.” Ivy nodded. “Less work for me. After you leave.”
The complete lack of emotion in her voice was a hard punch to the abdomen.
The threat of her tears had obviously been his imagination. Ivy had already decided the split was the best option.
She knelt next to the coffee table and picked up the scarf she’d picked out for his mother. The boxes she’d sorted in descending order before she’d packed everything away last year were easy to shuffle, and before he’d settled across from her, Dash squarely in his lap, she’d already nestled the scarf on a cloud of tissue paper and closed the box.
Josh picked it up, ready to do his usual part. The slide of the scissors through paper creeped her out so he was in charge of cutting.
“Let me tape that shut before you cut.” She waved a piece of tape at him.
“You can do it after, right before you wrap the paper.” Why did it matter? It didn’t. Apparently he was done getting along on every single level there was to this marriage.
She sighed. “Why do we have to iron this out every year? You know I’ve figured out the most efficient way to do this.”
Josh awkwardly reached around Dash and cut the paper before he answered. “We have this argument because you’re an insane control freak who needs to learn to relax.” He slid the paper and box across to her and wrapped his arms around Dash. The explosion would be intense.
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