Humming into her coffee cup, she glances out of the window where Clay has disappeared from sight. “He must be new; I would’ve remembered a face like that when we were growing up.”
Frustration has me gritting my teeth. Something about her observation annoys me more than her previous callous comments. Clay wants to takemeon a date, not her. He is mine, and I know I would feel the same if she was drooling over Bear. I’ve never been the jealous type, but all of a sudden I want to make my claim on these guys, even though I have absolutely no right. Ugh, this is all so complicated.
Clearing my throat, I glance down at my mug. “You were so determined to leave town that I’m surprised you noticed anyone.”
The words ‘but yourself’ hang unsaid in the air. It’s catty, even though I promised myself this would be a positive get-together. Ivy has always been very inward-looking and focused on her own goals, not noticing the people she treads on in the process. However, the look of hurt she is giving me makes me wish I hadn’t said anything. She hides it pretty quickly, replacing it with a practised smile, yet I saw it and now I feel like a jerk.
“Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Rubbing my hand across my face, I massage my temples in demonstration as I try to explain my uncharacteristic comment. “Clay and two other guys have moved into the shop next to the bakery.”
Insult forgotten, Ivy perks up, leaning forward eagerly and almost knocking over her drink in the process. “Oh, the gym?!”
“How do you know about that?” Barking a laugh, I shake my head. Honestly, I’m not all that surprised that she knows about the gym. Ivy always has been one for gossip, seeming to know the latest without even living in the town any longer.
Grinning, she taps the side of her nose. “I have my sources.”
I’m sure she does, but I’m not going to bother asking more as I want to move the conversation away from the guys. Huffing out a breath, I force a smile. “Anyway, how are you?”
“Yes, yes. Fine.” Waving me off, she leans forward again, eager to hear more. “Tell me more about the guys next door andClay.”
Not happening. I’m not even sure what is happening, and I know for sure that Ivy won’t understand the thing I’ve got going on with Bear and Clay. Changing the topic when Ivy is interested in something is not easy, but there is something she always has more interest in, no matter the subject: herself.
I’m going to need more coffee for this. Lifting the double-handled mug to my mouth, I take a long drink, both to caffeinate myself and give me extra time to decide how to handle this.
“Not that I don’t love seeing you, Ivy, but why are you here? I doubt it was to talk about guys.”
She sighs and rests her hands on the table in front of her. Her entire body language has changed, mood shifting and expression taking on an intense focus. I’m nervous. She’s about to give me bad news and I don’t feel prepared for it. The last time she looked at me like this was when she told me dad had been in an accident. We don’t have any other relatives, so it cannot be that someone has died.
“I’m selling my half of the bakery, and I think you should do the same.” Direct and to the point, she states this with authority, as though I am going to follow her orders just because she said so.
I’m waiting for the punchline, because she has to be joking. However, she just continues to stare at me, a small frown between her perfect brows. Several heavy moments pass between us before it hits me. She’s not joking – she wants to sell the bakery.
“You can’t be serious?” Laughing humourlessly, I stare across the table at her, not even recognising the woman looking back at me. “This was mum and dad’s dream. They loved that bakery, and they created it forus. Holly and Ivy! We can’t sell it.”
I can’t believe this is happening. This is the last piece of our parents that we have left, and she wants to get rid of it. Her mind is already made up, and she never once mentioned it to me. The bakery is my passion, livelihood and where I live, the flat above also left to us when our parents died. In one comment, she wishes to wipe all of that away without consideration for me or anyone who works there.
Not to mention, financially the business is thriving. Even if you take all of the emotional connections away, it makes no sense to close and sell up. I don’t bother to say this; she already knows, as she’s the one who deals with the figures.
“Are you really telling me that being a small-town baker is what you want to do for the rest of your life?” Her lip curls up in a sneer, making it clear what she thinks of that idea. “Don’t you want to escape this place? The bad memories here? The reminders of them everywhere you look?”
Ah, so that’s where this is all coming from. I always suspected she left because of something that happened here, and she has just given herself away by bringing up bad memories. She left Hinton Grove before our parents died. She’s projecting her own feelings onto the situation and not seeing this from my side. Where she sees the bakery and is reminded of our parents, she feels sadness, whereas I remember the happy times I spent there with them.
“For every bad memory, there are ten amazing ones. I don’t want to leave, and being a baker is my passion.” My voice is soft as I explain, understanding that this might not be selfishly motivated like I first thought.
“Then move!” she fires back, slamming her hands onto the table. “Your training goes to waste here; you should go to one of the big cities where you can learn more and be appreciated for your skills.”
My cheeks burn as customers in the coffee shop turn their gaze to us, Ivy’s antics drawing attention. I’m embarrassed, not due to her being loud and causing a scene, but because she continuously talks down about what I do. I love the bakery and all of our customers. Some people want big lives in the city, but I am not one of them. I’ve always been happy here in Hinton Grove where everyone knows each other.
“This is my home. I’m not selling.” There, that should be the end of it. She can’t force me to sell my share. Surely she realises by doing this she would be making me homeless?
Her brows shoot up and she leans back in her chair, clearly taken aback by my refusal to sell. Did she really think I would just give up my entire life? She still hasn’t given me a reason why she wants to sell. Expression suddenly changing, she narrows her eyes.
“Is this to do with Jake? Is that why you are staying here, because you hope he’s coming back?” Snorting, her arms cross over her chest. “He’s not, Holly, get over him and move on.”
His name strikes pain in my chest, as it always does, yet I notice that it is not as agonising as it used to be. I am furious at Ivy for using my pain against me though. Jake and I shared years of our lives together, and with a snap of his fingers he left me behind like I was nothing. That isn’t something you get over immediately. What I find so offensive about her comments is that she really thinks I’m a weak, simpering woman, waiting fora man to complete me. Jake shattered me, chasing something better and smashing my entire world into tiny pieces. Even if he did come back now, I have enough self-respect to tell him to fuck off back to the city.
Gritting my teeth, I force myself to pause and take several slow breaths so I don’t snap out of anger. “This isn’t about him. I have built up a thriving business and I love it here.”
Ivy must have been expecting this to dissolve into a fight, as my calm statement seems to surprise her. Her expression turns thoughtful and she looks down into her mug, stirring her coffee like it might give her the answers she’s looking for. Honestly, I just want her to leave. Her visit has left me wound-up and frustrated, as well as adding another worry to the weight of responsibility on my back. This is something she needs to work through herself, though, as if I try to rush her it will only make her dig in her heels.
