Page 27 of The Holiday Honeymoon Switch
“Ivy says she just dabbles, that her actual job is graphic designer,” Larry says.
“That true?” Oliver looks down at Ivy again, a question in his eyes.
“Yes,” Ivy says, keeping her voice firm even though her heart is racing and her palms have gone all sweaty. She feels like she’s making a school presentation she didn’t prepare for. “My pastel art is just for fun. But thank you both for all the compliments. And hey, can you guys recommend any beaches for me to go to that might be great for drawing, or is basically everything drop-dead gorgeous around here?”
Larry laughs. “Oh, you’ve asked the right person. Ollie is his own walking Hawaii tourism board.” She puts her hand on his shoulder, and Ivy tries not to feel jealous that she gets to touch him whenever she wants. “Hon, I’m going to come surfing with you, okay? Maxi is opening the bar for me today, and I’m closing. I just need to go change. You give Ivy some tips on good beaches, and I’ll meet you downstairs?”
When Larry is gone, Oliver picks up a small notepad from beside Ivy’s easel. “Can I use this?” She nods and hands him a pencil.
“Okay, so you want to go to Ines’s Secret Beach,” he says, writing it down. “It’s about twenty minutes up the coast.” He sketches a map. “Then Lumaha‘i Beach, which will takeanother hour to get to. You can hike that. Those two would make the perfect day trip, and when you leave here, you can go to Hanalei to get picnic supplies.”
Next, he draws another map, writes “Glass Beach,” and looks up at her. “Heard of it?” She shakes her head. “It’s a stretch of beach made entirely of sea glass, instead of sand. It’s spectacular—but you have to go at low tide.”
“A beach made of glass—how is that possible?”
“There used to be a glass factory, years ago, and apparently, after it was abandoned, it all just happened that way. Little rounded pieces of multicolored glass strewn everywhere eventually took over the beach. Normally human intervention is a real bummer, but in this case, it’s absolutely stunning when the tide is low and the sun is setting. The colors, the textures—you’ll love it. You’ll want to draw it all day.
“Do you drive?” She nods. “There’s a car-rental place near the market, and they have great rates. Ask for my pal Kalei.” He draws a map now. “It’s about an hour’s drive from here, and very straightforward. You just take 56 and 50.” He rips the sheet of paper off the pad, hands it to her, then starts on another one, upon which he writes down “The Blue Room.”
“Is that a club?”
His one dimple shines at her like a flashlight as he smiles. “Sounds like it, right? But it’s a cave, not far from here.Twenty minutes’ drive, near Tunnels Beach. You have to go when the water level is high. The water in the cave turns this shade of blue that’s like…” He trails off, at a loss for words. “You’ll think you dreamed it,” he concludes. “You shouldn’t swim in the caves, although some locals do—and I might have done it, a time or two—but you can swim at Ke‘e Beach down the road. Calm, serene, perfect spot for a contemplative back-float. And the best poké you’ll ever have is at the restaurant on that beach.”
“Oliver, are you actually currently employed by the tourism board?”
He laughs. “Nah. I just really love it here.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Oh, I don’t live here full-time. But this is my third winter. It’s a great place to avoid ever having to see snow.”
“You don’t see the beauty in snow? I’d think someone who is such a Christmas enthusiast would be right into the white stuff.”
He shivers as if someone has just tossed a snowball down the back of his shirt. “I hate being cold,” he says. “I chase the sun all year long and I’m going for a record. If I can avoid snow and cold for the next…decade or so? I’ll be happy. What I’m after is the opposite of that line in Narnia, you know the one? ‘Always winter but never Christmas’? I think an ideal world for me would be always summer butalwaysChristmas.”
“I love being warm, and this place is heavenly for sure, but I love winter, too.”
“And yet Christmas you find…just okay?”
“You’re never going to drop that, are you?”
He bites his lip, then lets it go and laughs. “Nope. Named Ivy, best friend is Holly, yet somehow thinks the festive season isjust okay. You’re a riddle wrapped in an enigma, Ivy.” He holds her gaze for a moment before turning his toward the sea. “I need to get out on the waves before I run out of time,” he says. “But it was great to see your art—it’s really good, Ivy. See you later?”
“Thanks for the tips, Oliver.”
“Can’t wait to see what you draw today.”
When he’s gone, Ivy walks to the edge of the deck and looks down. In the distance, she sees Oliver carrying a butter yellow surfboard. Larry is behind him in a powder blue wetsuit, her long hair flowing down her back, her surfboard coral pink. Oliver has an orange dry bag on his back, and it shines bright in the morning sun as he turns left and moves across the sand with long, purposeful strides.
What would it be like, Ivy wonders, to lead a life like his? He works as a bartender, surfs, lives in a beach house in paradise when he feels like it, with a beautiful lover, and chases the sun and waves with her. Would Ivy want to be so free?No, she tells herself, even as the very thought creates a sense of longing in her. It’s not realistic. People like Oliverare a lot of fun to be around, but also likely have Peter Pan syndrome, a refusal to grow up that inevitably gets tiresome. She’s dated guys like him and it never lasts. At some point, youhaveto grow up. And part of being a grown-up is carving out time to do the things you love rather than letting them overwhelm your responsibilities. It’s okay for those passions to be a hobby, not a career, though. You can still lead a fulfilling life while paying the bills regularly—with actual money instead of barters, the way her parents do.
Ivy finishes packing her bag for the day—a break from reality, but not her real life. Shehasa real life, and it’s in New York City, not here in a fantasy paradise. But then she catches one last glimpse of Oliver and Larry. As Larry tilts her head toward Oliver, then laughs up at the sky, Ivy is forced to concede that those two make an easy, free life seem like a simple choice to make—that it could be more than just a lot of fun.
8
Holly
December 20
