Ella instantly understood my unspoken thoughts. “I’ll take care of it.”
I cleared my throat. “Um, my hair has to be up since I’m serving food.”
Ella rolled her eyes. “I know that, of course. Now, just trust me, okay?”
I smiled and made the instant decision to do just that. “Okay.”
Fifteen minutes later, through the magic of a curling iron and some hairpins, I stared yet again at the woman in the mirror andcouldn’t believe my eyes. Ella had pulled my hair into some sort of fancy updo. She hadn’t stopped there, either, whipping out a small bag full of makeup. Grinning wickedly the entire time, she’d added eyeshadow, mascara, and lip gloss to my face.
The woman peering back at me had been subtly accented in a way that highlighted my eyes and cheekbones, without looking like I was overdone. I made a mental note to ask Ella what sort of products and magic she’d used to get this effect, in case I wanted to try to duplicate it sometime in the future. Updos and subtle makeup were not my forte.
“Connor MacDowell isn’t going to know what hit him,” Ella said, grinning at me in the mirror. “And it serves him right.”
24
When I arrived at the chapel, I fought off a mixture of nerves and excitement. For the first time since Connor had arrived in town, I felt better about things, and more confident than ever. The place was buzzing with guests, all dressed in their best, and the air was filled with the scent of fresh flowers and the hum of cheerful conversation.
I spent so much time fussing over my display that I didn’t get to see all of the wedding, but that was okay. My job was to make the bride and groom happy, so I ducked into the back row after the service had started. As soon as the happy couple had kissed and people had cheered, I snuck out again and hurried into the reception hall, followed by several people.
As I made my way inside, I couldn’t help but notice Betty Dorion, the town gossip, was already making a beeline for me. Betty had been doing her very best all week to dig up dirt and spread it around. Normally, I would have tried to avoid her or answer her questions to keep the peace, but today, something in me had changed.
“Ivy, darling!” Betty exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “You look wonderful!”
“Thank you,” I said, trying to get past her to triple-check on my cake.
Betty wasn’t having any of that. “I heard about your little competition with Connor MacDowell.” She leaned in closer. “What do you really think about him? You can tell me, dear. We’re all friends here. Kind of cranky, isn’t he? Foreign, too.”
I took a deep breath, summoning my courage. “Betty, it’s none of your business what I think about Connor. And honestly, if you spent less time talking about other people and more time trying to be happy yourself, you might not feel the need to gossip so much.”
Betty’s eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, she was speechless. I think I might have been the first person in Jingle Junction to call her on her not-so-kind activities. Me, of all people, imagine that.
My comment back to her seemed to do the job. With a loud huff of irritation, she turned and stalked away, clearly taken aback by my response. Not so long ago, that would have triggered guilt, regret, and shame. Instead, this time I felt a surge of pride and relief wash over me. Standing up for myself felt empowering, and I realized I should have done it long ago.
Feeling lighter, I made my way to the cake table. There, my towering creation stood as a testament to my hard work. It glistened in the lovely lighting, delicate swirls of lace-type frosting ornaments sparkling, thanks to the edible glitter I’d applied in strategic places, the sugar flowers so realistic I could barely believe I’d made them. I smiled, for the first time not judging or wanting to tweak what I’d created, but just taking time to admire the intricate details and the beauty of the amazing confection I’d made for the happy couple’s special day.
Whether things went well on social media or not, I’d done something I was very proud of, and no one would ever convince me otherwise.
As I turned to leave, I spotted Connor across the room, and my breath caught in my throat. If he looked good in an apron, he looked amazing in a Scottish kilt. He was striking in dark green tartan cut just at the knee with a black jacket over his deep green buttoned-up vest. Polished black shoes and black socks made him look taller as he wore the kilt with a natural grace that bespoke the pride he had in his Scottish heritage.
I felt my heart skip a beat as our eyes met across the room.
“Oh, Ivy!” My dad’s voice said from behind me. “You look beautiful!”
I turned to smile at Dad and my stepmom, Fran. They were followed by most of my family—Nick, Eve, Joy, Holly, and Max had all been invited, and all of them looked dazzling in their wedding attire. Only Star was missing from the Jingle Junction family.
I greeted them each with a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.
“Ivy, we saw the cake! It’s absolutely stunning!” Fran said as she hugged me, her eyes wide with admiration. “Your grandmother would be so proud of you!”
The thought of my grandmother being proud of me made me smile. “Thanks, everyone. I’m so glad you’re all here.”
“I’ve always known you were talented,” Dad said, kissing my cheek, “but you’ve outdone yourself. The bride and groom must be delighted.”
“Yeah, Ivy, it’s amazing,” Joy said. “I took a lot of photos, and I’ll make sure and post them everywhere.”
As we chatted, I kept glancing at Connor, who was now making his way over to us. My nerves began to flutter again, but this time it was different. There was a sense of anticipation, a feeling that something significant was about to happen.
Connor finally reached us, his eyes locking onto mine. “Ivy, the cake is incredible.” He ran his fingers over my cheek. “And you look absolutely beautiful.”
