She thought back to Adeline, who’d sold her the flower shop, and how that felt like so long ago. She remembered how sad Adeline had been to give up the space but how grateful she’d been that Ivy was willing to take this chance and keep her “beautiful space alive.” Ivy had promised Adeline that she would do everything she could to brighten Bluebell Covers' days. Adeline had moved to Florida and kept in touch for a while. But because she’d moved south when she was already seventy-five, and that was eighteen years ago, Ivy knew that the chances were slim that she was still alive.
At least she wasn’t here to see Ivy ground her dream into the dirt.
By three o’clock that afternoon, Ivy had nothing left to do and nothing to stay open for, so she locked her doors and walked the same path she always had back home. This time, downtown was decorated for the Autumn Festival, with what looked to be thousands of fake plastic flowers. Ivy had to admit that they almost looked like the real thing. But the smell of them was all wrong, bringing none of the autumnal fragrance the Autumn Festival had once been known for. Maybe people didn’t care about that anymore.
Lily was on the front porch, buttoning up a flannel and chatting with Tyler and Wren about tonight’s festival events. She sounded excited and younger than her eighteen. “And Maggie and Madeline are home,” Lily said, speaking of two of her best friends from high school, who had both moved away for college. “So we’re going to meet up and go to a bonfire party, I think.”
“Ivy!” Wren had noticed her and raised a crooked hand in greeting. “You’re back early.”
“She’s coming to the festival!” Lily said.
Wren gave Ivy a curious look, then followed Ivy into the house, down the hall, and into the kitchen, where Ivy washed her hands and scanned the cabinets for a snack. She could feel Wren waiting for her to say something, anything. Finally, Ivy took a bite of a cracker and raised her eyebrows at her little sister.
“Do you want to tell me why you’ve been so quiet lately?” Wren asked, her hands on her hips.
Ivy rolled her eyes into the back of her head. She swallowed crumbs and explained, “I’m running a business. I have two kids at home. I…”
“Lily’s an adult, and Tyler’s rarely home,” Wren interjected. “Juliet, Celia, and I are worried about you. We thought things were moving in an okay direction. We thought…”
It was Ivy’s turn to interrupt. “Listen, Wren. I’m thrilled you’re here. Really.” She tried a delicate smile, one that hurt her face. “And I’m thrilled the Eco-lodge is so successful, and I’m thrilled Dad’s little scheme to bring us all together worked out, and I’m thrilled that Celia’s a brilliant journalist for the Bluebell newspaper, and all that jazz. Not everything is about the Harper family, okay?”
Wren scrunched her face into a tight ball. After a long moment, she said, “You’ll never tell us what you need, will you? You’ll never ask for help.”
Ivy tried to laugh at that. “I don’t need any help, Wren. Really.”
“You let me move into your house,” Wren shot back. “You helped me figure out what’s wrong with me. You…”
“You grew up here,” Ivy said. “It’s basically your house, too.” She remembered the final years of Wren’s high school career, when she’d lived alongside Ivy, her husband, and their daughter and son. She remembered Wren offering to babysit when things got rocky. But Ivy had never wanted her little sister to feel like a live-in nanny. She’d wanted her to have a life.
Before Wren could respond, Lily flounced into the room, grinning ear to ear and pointing. “I can smell the bonfires already. We have to get into town! I don’t want to miss anything. You ready, Mom?”
Wren gave Ivy a look that meant this conversation wasn’t over, not yet. But Ivy was already headed for the closet to search for her extra-warm coat. It was supposed to drop down to twenty-two degrees Fahrenheit tonight. It wasn’t nothing. As a Maine girl, she knew to be prepared.
Within a half hour, Lily, Wren, Ivy, Celia, and Juliet were headed for the Autumn Festival, dressed in puffy coats and listing out all the autumnal snacks and drinks they wanted to taste.
“I can’t believe I’m back at a Bluebell Autumn Festival,” Juliet breathed.
“It isn’t exactly a fashion show in Paris, or whatever you’re usually used to,” Wren teased.
Juliet laughed. “I’m grateful for that, actually. I’ve met the most heinous characters in the world at functions like that. Give me a gruff, Maine coastal character any day of the week.”
“Someone like Dad?” Ivy asked, surprising herself.
Her sisters and her daughter blinked at her, then laughed good-naturedly.
“Dad was certainly a gruff character,” Celia agreed.
“The gruffest,” Juliet said.
“He should have managed a lighthouse or something,” Lily said, trying to get in on the sisters’ jokes.
Celia cackled and touched Lily’s shoulder. “Ivy, I never knew how hilarious your daughter is! She cracks me up.”
Lily beamed. Again, Ivy thought back to her years with Daniel, how little they’d ever laughed together.
But then, miraculously, she recalled that afternoon at the Bluebell Cove Inn, when she’d been standing behind the counter, nine months pregnant and changed, cackling about something inane with Elliot Rhodes. It was as though her body had immediately relaxed around him. Why was that? She’d never been able to make sense of it.
Was that why she’d kept herself away from him all these years?
