I bit my lip. Truth was, Iwasa little angry amid the rest of my emotional turmoil. Why hadn’t he told me? But I wasn’t the type of person who could just blurt something like that out, even given this opportunity to do so. Now that I was alone with him and didn’t have Holly to speak up, it felt wrong to place the blame on my father. “I’m not mad. Not really.”
“It was in the family newsletter,” Dad said, then winked at me. “I emailed it days ago. Did you read it?”
Mortified at being caught, I ducked my head and shook it. “Nope. Guess I didn’t see that one.”
Dad chuckled. “Or the other four newsletters I’ve noticed you haven’t opened in the last two months?”
I winced. “I’ve been busy.”
“I know you have, Ivy. That’s why I haven’t mentioned it before.” He pulled me close to his chest for a hug. “You’re my oldest daughter, and I love you. My hardworking people-pleaser. I’ll never forget the day you were born. You didn’t even cry when you came out.” I’d heard this story a dozen times over the years, but I let him talk because no matter how many times he told me, it always made me feel special and loved. “I remember holding my breath in fear… so scared something was wrong. You were so tiny.” He pulled back and smiled down at me. “Even back then, you were a pleasure. It was like you knew your mom was exhausted from being pregnant and so you did her a solid and quietly popped on out.”
I laughed and leaned against the counter. “Did her a solid, Dad? Who have you been hanging around to pick up lingo like that?”
He grinned and picked up the toy truck again. “Even when the doctor gave you a good shake and swat, you simply glared at him, but you didn’t make a fuss.” He paused and stared at me for so long, I started to squirm under his gaze. “Okay, let’s see what we can do about this. Connor MacDowell signed a year-long lease for the pizza shop, but if you’re really this upset, I can see about breaking it. Would you like me to do that?”
Yes, that would be great. Thanks for doing me a solid, Dad.
I shook my head and gave him my best fake smile. “Of course not, Dad. I’d almost even forgotten about him until you mentioned him to me a second ago.”
Dad waggled a finger at me, his eyes sparkling in amusement. “You never were a good liar, Ivy Bell.”
I knew my face was red, but I did my best to pretend I wasn’t embarrassed by his admonishment. “I’m serious, Dad. It’s totally okay.” I held up both hands and took a step backward. “In fact, I’ll go over in the morning and make nice.”
Again. And probably get thrown out again, but at least I will have tried.
Dad grinned and hopped off his stool. “That’s my girl. Trust me, Ivy. This town is big enough for two sugary creators.”
I laughed. “You’re just happy to have another place besides my bakery to sneak off to and eat something that’s not the list of acceptable foods your doctor gave you.” I leaned forward and lowered my tone to almost a whisper. “It won’t matter, you know. Fran will still find out. She always does.”
“Hush now,” Dad scolded. “At least give this old man a little hope.”
9
Iarrived at the bakery a little before five the next morning, feeling excited and optimistic. There was nothing like a good night’s sleep to give me a bit of an attitude adjustment, and I had needed it. I didn’t like conflict, and I decided that this day was going to go perfectly smoothly.
Whether that guy across the street liked it or not.
Nope, wrong attitude, Ivy.
Today, I was going to talk with Connor MacDowell and welcome him properly to Jingle Junction. Maybe even make a new friend. All while fighting off my internal desire to be more than just friends, thank you very much.
By the time Ella arrived at the bakery, I was blasting some of my favorite tunes in the empty space, shimmying and dancing as I worked. I already had the cinnamon rolls and croissants in the oven and was starting on the batter for the cupcakes.
“What’s gotten into you?” Ella laughed a little breathlessly as she tied on her apron and stood next to me. “We’re listening to Pink? Usually, the month of February is dedicated to old-time crooners like Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and Etta James. What gives?”
“A bit of female empowerment music never hurt anyone. I’ll turn on the crooners when we open the shop. Right now, I’m feeling a little… feisty.”
Ella giggled and started to prepare the icing for a batch of chocolate cupcakes. “Is there a reason why?” She arched an eyebrow. “Or should I say, is there a certain man who’s making you feel this way?”
“Of course not! Don’t be silly.” I ducked my head and carefully poured the batter into the muffin cups. “I just felt like—”
“Hey.” Ella touched my shoulder. “I was only teasing, Ivy. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t,” I lied.
My stomach tightened with those silly butterflies all over again. I didn’t tell her about my terrible encounter with Connor MacDowell or my talk with Dad last night, choosing instead to focus on the baking ahead of me.
We worked in near silence for the next hour, getting everything set up for the day. When the first customer strolled through the front door, I had changed the music, and Frank Sinatra was crooning softly through the speakers. People picking up their morning caffeine and warm breakfast muffins kept me chatting and busy, and that suited me just fine. Once the high school students and working citizens thinned out, it was a little after 8:00. The tourists wouldn’t start arriving until mid-morning.
