“You did,” he said. “I remember it perfectly. You said, and I quote, ‘that sounds like a fantastic idea.’”
“You can’t just say ‘and I quote’ and have me believe it’s an actual quote,” Ivy said.
Elliot laughed. Wind whistled through the receiver. She imagined he was frozen out there, shuffling along in his thick boots. He’d probably imagined he’d be warm in her flower shop by now.
“Why don’t you come over to the house?” she suggested, surprising herself. “We can talk about your little made-up scheme. I mean, if you want to.” Panic shot through her, and she got out of bed. “I think I have coffee?”
But Elliot seemed cool as a cucumber. “I’ll head over now. Should I bring anything?”
Ivy said no and goodbye, then threw her phone on the bed and let out a soft screech. There was no telling how quickly Elliot could get over here. If he had his truck, it might be five minutes. She bolted into the bathroom and took to her hair with her dry shampoo, trying to make herself someone respectable, someone beautiful. She put on lipstick and a bit of eyeliner, then raced back downstairs to see the state of the kitchen. Tyler had apparently made his favorite thing for lunch—a messy spaghetti concoction with multiple sauces—and there was gunk all over the stovetop. It was too late to do anything about it now.
She knew that Lily was over at the Bluebell Cove Eco-Lodge, working the front desk, making a bit more cash before she left for school. She knew that Tyler wouldn’t come out of his room for another few hours, not until he got hungry again.
But more than that, she knew that if Elliot parked his truck out front, her sisters would see and they would know that she had Elliot Rhodes over. What had she been thinking? Perhaps she should call Elliot back and tell him she’d meet him somewhere else, anywhere but here. Maybe she should call him and tell him that she couldn’t do his sister’s wedding, that she was retiring or quitting or moving to a different country, never to be seen or heard from again.
But before she could come up with an excuse (or move away for good), the doorbell rang. She hurried to the foyer to answer the door. Behind it was the handsome Elliot Rhodes in his Carhartt, his cheeks ruddy from the cold, his hands the size of dinner plates. Ivy couldn’t do anything but smile at him. She felt she couldn’t speak.
They hadn’t seen one another in months. Why did it feel like it had only been minutes?
“Here she is,” he said. “I was looking all over for my personal flower provider, and she’s been in hiding.”
Ivy blushed as she guided him into the kitchen, where she poured him a mug of coffee and apologized for the mess. “Tyler’s been experimenting,” she said.
“A chef! Well, I’m impressed. I didn’t know my way around a kitchen when I was his age. When I got married, my wife was amazed at how helpless I was. It’s embarrassing to think back on now. I mean, I couldn’t even boil water to make pasta. I swear.” He raised his mug and laughed. “No wonder she divorced me.”
Ivy was surprised by how forthright he was about his ex, and by how easy it was for him to speak ill of himself in the past. She sat at the kitchen table across from him, feeling another wave of fright. He’s not into me, she reminded herself. He’s here for his sister. He’s here because he wants to help her save money. He’s a family man, a worthwhile friend. But he would never be interested in someone like me. She felt her smile melt off her face.
Elliot sensed her hesitation and made his face stoic, as well. “Anyway. Sorry for going on and on about my divorce. There’s nothing nice about hearing about someone else’s ancient history. I know that.”
Ivy parted her lips to tell him that no, she was terribly interested—she was more interested than she could say. But he was already talking about something else. His sister’s wedding. The costs.
“Listen, you already know that I’m a pretty good carpenter,” he said, a joke in his voice. “I’ve fixed up the Bluebell Cove Inn, or Eco-Lodge, or whatever you’re calling it twice. I’ve refurbished kitchens, built elaborate dining room tables, and installed about 1,000 kitchen cabinets. If I had a résumé, it would be a mile long. Maybe more.”
“You’re really talking yourself up,” Ivy tried to tease him.
Elliot laughed again. He spread his hands across the counter. “All that to say, I have the materials to fix up the flower shop. I have a little bit of time to spare. It wouldn’t take me very long at all. In return…”
“The flowers,” Ivy said, bowing her head. She slid her tongue across her teeth and considered telling him that she was about to give up, that she was reading about selling the shop, that she was considering words like “bankruptcy” and “failure.”
Elliot’s voice was thin. “You haven’t been open much this autumn.”
“We’ve been so busy at the inn,” she said quickly. “I mean, the eco-lodge.”
He laughed openly but continued to give her a look that suggested he knew she was in over her head. “At least meet me at the flower shop one of these days. I can show you what I have in mind for the exterior and the interior. I promise you, it wouldn’t take me much longer than a month.”
Ivy was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know if people buy flowers the way they used to.”
“That’s a tragedy,” Elliot said.
“Things change,” Ivy said. “At least, that’s what they tell me.” She closed her eyes and thought of the suitcases already ripped open and ready to be filled with Lily’s belongings. “My daughter’s going to school the first week of January.”
“Wow,” Elliot said. “Congratulations to her. Which one?”
Ivy told him. She explained that Lily had a “sort of new” dream surrounding environmentalism, the coastline, and the sciences. “I don’t know what to make of it,” she said. “At the same time, I know I’ve been selfish, expecting her to stick around here.”
Elliot’s eyes glinted. “Not everyone is meant to stick around here.”
Ivy knew he was referring to his ex-wife, Shelly, and to his long-ago dream of following her. She knew he was referring to his belief that he and Ivy were meant for Bluebell Cove, that this was where their hearts beat best.
