Page 19 of Mistletoe & Magic
Ivy goes to get Junie from the bus and brings her back to show off the farm stand with a snack she prepared for her. Junie is holding Ivy’s hand and talking her ear off, and Ivy is listening intently. She immediately runs to me and wraps me in a big hug when she sees me. “Hi, Dad. Ivy says I can help out in the store with her, but then we have to go do dinner and take my bath.”
“Hey Juniebug. She did, did she?” I say as I glance over at Ivy, who is already chatting up customers and helping them. Great. More smiles for everyone but me.
Customers trickle in. A dad with two kids who want the tallest tree on earth. A couple arguing about Balsam versus Frasers. Ivy sells cocoa to all of them, listens, laughs, then sends them to me with a nod that says, trust him. It puts people at ease. It puts me on edge. She’s in my space, and I hate it. Okay, I hate how I turn into an even bigger doofus when she’s around. Like I forget how to talk and walk. And everything comes out of my mouth sharper than intended.
Junie hands out coloring sheets to all the kids with Christmas trees on them and upsells all the treats and toysalongside Ivy. I’ll admit, everything is going great. And it feels great having Ivy and Junie around.
When the rush dips, Ivy slides a cup across the counter toward me. “Taste test.”
I fold my arms. “I don’t have time for taste tests.”
“You have time for this one,” she says with a grin and meets my eyes. “Peppermint. With the marshmallows that taste like an ice cream blizzard.”
Tate shows up and takes one and moans like a dramatic idiot. “Holy. That should be illegal.”
I lift mine and take a sip. It is stupid-good. I don’t give her the satisfaction of a full reaction. She sees through me, anyway. Her smile is small. Pleased, but not gloating.
“Stop improving things,” I say under my breath.
“Why,” she says softly, giving me a look like she’s challenging me. “Are you going to fire me?”
Oh, there are a lot of things I’d like to do to Ivy. Firing her is not one of them.
“You should sell more of these marshmallows. They’re amazing,” Tate tells her, and I give him a dirty look that tells him not to encourage her.
I look through the front window instead. Snow flurries drift across the lot. The tree rows blur into a watercolor of green and white. For a second, I imagine this whole place the way she sees it. A place of happiness and traditions.
Junie pulls papers out of her backpack. “We made a star map in class,” she tells her, breathless. “It looks like our treasure map, but in the sky.”
Ivy crouches to her level. “Then we need star cookies tonight. With extra edible glitter.”
Junie spins. “Daddy, can Ivy sleep over forever?”
The room tilts. I tug my cap low to hide whatever crosses my face. “We’ll talk about it later, bug.”
Ivy stands and smooths Junie’s hat. She moves back into the flow of customers as if she has been here for years, and it’s her personal farm store. She is everywhere at once. Handing out napkins, ringing up a wreath, and telling a story that makes an old man linger to hear the end. She is bright enough to make people gather. She's captivating enough to make them stay.
It is good for the farm. It is good for my kid, and that terrifies me. Because when she leaves, we’re left without the brightness. We’re left in the cold.
Tate nudges my shoulder. “You gonna keep pretending she’s not doing you a favor and turning this place completely around?”
“I know she is,” I snap. The words taste like surrender. “That’s the problem.”
He laughs softly. “Finn called it when he said you were allergic to help.”
I watch Ivy tie a candy cane to a bag with a neat red bow. She catches me looking. For a heartbeat, we hold our gazes. Something flickers, and I look away first.
Through the holidays. That is what I told my mom and me. We can’t get used to this. Ivy will leave us, too.
But as Ivy flits through the farm like a Christmas fairy, Junie orbiting her like a planet that has finally found its sun, I cannot shake the thought that letting her in might be the biggest mistake I make.
Or it might possibly be the only thing that saves us.
Chapter 7
Ivy
“Junie,” I say, laughing at her Christmas tree made of candy canes, “no more candy canes. We have to go home and eat our yummy dinner.”
