Page 33 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

CHAPTER NINE

ROWAN

“He’s okay, Ivy,” I say into my phone, playing with the seam in the arm of a waiting room chair. It’s busted, like most of the things around me. Even the little Christmas tree in the corner has twisted limbs, and the menorah on the table next to it is dented. I guess there’s no need to give people perfect things while they’re waiting for shit news. Except the news I just got was actually not that bad. “They say it was a mild heart attack. I’m going in there to see him in a minute. A nurse just came and told me he woke up.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” she says, back at home now. When I first called, she was at a busy bar. The heroine in her next book is a female bartender, I guess, and she’s always been all about doing in-person research. Truthfully, I think she’s a bit like me, and she doesn’t want to settle for one boring job when she could have hundreds of little ones. Except I could barely string enough sentences together to fill out a greeting card, and she’s written millions.

I’m impressed by my little sister, even though I really wish she hadn’t chosen to write a book about a fireman. The guys doubled down on the Cupid nickname, and half a dozen copiesof the book are always floating around the firehouse. People lend them out to their friends, for God’s sake.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Ivy continues, bringing my attention back to our conversation, “but I’m glad you were there with him. Ralph doesn’t seem like he’d be good in emergencies.”

“No,” I agree. “But Ethel had aspirin. That helped, I guess.”

“And was anyone there foryou, Rowan?”

“Oliver was there,” I say, even as Kennedy flashes through my mind. She immediately hopped into action, and she didn’t stop. She even volunteered to call Kerry. When I first met her, I figured she was the kind of woman who liked to keep her hands clean, but I read her wrong. I wish she were here, to be honest, although it’s ludicrous to think the woman starring in my grandmother’s matchmaking show could sit side by side with me in this tacky hospital waiting room without drawing eyes.

I tried following up with Kerry, but there was no answer. I haven’t been able to get a hold of my other sisters either. Bryn and Holly are both at a big event related to the dating app they helped create, and Willow lives in Asheville. I’ll tell her, but not yet.

“Good. That’s good.” Ivy heaves a sigh, and I picture her running a hand through her short hair. The rest of us have dark hair, but hers is blonde and curly. When we were kids, people would ask if she was a visiting friend.

She feels like one most of the time.

“Well, looks like I’ll be up for Christmas, huh?” she says.

“Don’t sound so happy about it.”

“I’m not, dipshit,” she says, but it’s not without fondness. “Ihavebeen meaning to come visit for a while now,” she adds. “But I was hoping to wait until after the show. The last thing I want is for Nana to pull me in front of the camera as her romance mascot.”

Yeah, you’d rather leave that role to Bryn and Holly.

“That’s something she would do,” I agree. “But I see no reason to tell her about any of this. Jay’s not her son-in-law anymore.Ipso facto, it’s none of her business. Mom either. You’d be staying at the house with Jay, anyway, I’m guessing.”

She always does. Sometimes I wonder if my sisters are hurt by that, by Ivy’s closeness to Jay, but they’ve never said so. I think we all understand.

“Is Kerry there?” she asks. There’s a strange note in her voice, like she maybe knows something I don’t.

“No,” I say. “Kenn—my other friend who was there tried calling her, but she didn’t answer. She left a voice message. I left another one just now. I’m surprised she’s not here. You know how the gossip mill is in this town. Half the people in Jay’s address book probably already know about this.”

“Roger that,” she says. “Which is why I can’t imagine how you think I can keep my presence in Highland Hills a secret for more than five minutes.”

“Oh, you think everyone’s going to be talking about the famous novelist in town?” I ask, smirking. It feels good, teasing her. It feels a bit less like I’ve gone six months without seeing her.

I understand why Ivy’s kept her distance. At the same time, part of me still thinks of her as the little girl who kept crawling around after me and Willow when we were little. The kid sister I used to keep from swallowing “chokes,” as we called them.

I miss her, is what I’m saying.

“You know they will be,” she says, laughing. “I was more thinking they’d paint a scarlet A on dad’s door. Or at least some people in town would.”

She’s right. As with any small town, we have our share of prudes. “They’re just jealous,” I say.

“Thanks, Rowan.”

“You know, if you’d consider changing the bar in your book to a brewery, you could do your research right here,” I say. “I don’t know if you’ve talked to Holly recently, but she’s with Cole Garrison, the guy who owns Ziggy’s.”

“No shit. I’ll think about it,” she says. “But about Kerry. I think something’s up with her and Dad. I called him the other week, and she was shouting at him in the background. You know how he is, though. Nothing’s a problem. Everything’s great.”

“Huh,” I tell her, because I don’t care to think about that. I need to get through this current crisis before addressing the other ones lining up for attention. The nurse who came to see me earlier motions to me from the double doors. “I think I can go back now.”

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