“You’re awful,” Ivy said.
“Ivy, I know you have this new fancy job, but you need to get out and stop hiding at your parent’s house. Besides, I am living through you. And Nate’s a good guy.” Alice waggled her eyebrows.
“How do you know him?” Ivy asked, tidying away the brushes.
“He did a profile on Frank’s firm.” Alice grinned.
“Oh great, so I can be bored to tears.” Ivy patted her mare Starlight’s neck and unclipped her from the cross ties.
“There’s always improv.” Alice laughed.
“Okay fine,” Ivy said. “I’m only going to meet another person. It isn’t a date.”
Alice had smiled at her, and Ivy shook her head.
Sitting here in the busy restaurant, Ivy wished she had said no because this felt like a date. Ivy glanced at the time. Her non-date was twenty minutes late. If it wasn’t for her mother’s improv, she would have gone home because work had been intense. She loved her new role; she thrived on being in the hustle again. Her new bosses took her seriously; she didn’t have to prove herself.
Ivy smiled, proud that she had saved a story from going to live for one of their top clients, a footballer, by quickly discrediting the source. It hadn’t been easy, and it took six staff people on the phone and one parked outside the accuser’s house, but it had been worth it. She had worked all day on that and just wanted to go home and put her feet up with a chilled glass of wine.
At least she could have the wine here.
“Hey, Ivy?” A short man with nice brown eyes, in a black suit jacket and jeans, extended his hand.
“Yes, that’s me.” Ivy returned the handshake.
“So sorry I was late. I got caught up in filing.” Nate took a seat across from her.
“No worries,” Ivy said.
“Did you order? Everything is god here.”
Ivy had read a review and was looking forward to trying the cured salmon on a flatbread.
“No, I was waiting.” Ivy sipped her water.
“Thanks. So Alice said you’ve lived in Vancouver for the past few years. How’s that?”
“Warmer,” Ivy said.
Nate threw his head back and laughed as if that was the funniest thing he had ever heard.
A server came over. “Can I take your drink orders?”
“White wine, please.”
“No, that’s just empty calories. Why don’t we try the mocktails?” Nate said.
Ivy gritted her teeth and smiled at the server. “White wine, please.”
“Okay, I guess the lady will have the wine.”
Ivy refrained from rolling her eyes. Maybe Nate was just nervous, too. The server shot Ivy a sympathetic glance.
“Did you always want to be a business reporter?”
“Hell no. I wanted to cover sports, but I never found an in. You know the extreme nepotism in journalism, and I’m an only child. Alice told me you were too?”
“Yes, though Alice is like a sister.”
