14. CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ivy

4 DAYS UNTIL THE RED CARPET EVENT

Bubbles fill the bath and lavender wafts through the air. I step one foot into the steaming water, sucking in a breath as the temperature is a shock to the system. When Holland left, and it was just me and my thoughts, the chill hit my bones, down to my marrow. My wet hair didn't help.

I lower myself into the bubble bath. The water, borderline scalding—just how I like it, reaches to the top of my chin. Everything, besides my head, is submerged. The bubbles touch my chin and ear lobes.

I rest my head on the back of the deep soak tub; it's ridiculously comfortable. I breathe in deep through my nose, hold for a count of four, and loudly exhale with my mouth.

Before I get into the offer details, I need to steady my mind and emotions. My therapist encourages me to make a list when feelings, or thoughts, are hard to sort.

What do I know, without needing any other information, to be true, at this moment?

First, Holland would never do anything to intentionally put the lodge at risk. The love and care he's shown this place, both the actual structure and what it means to the community, is substantial. I know how much this means to him and his family .

Second, ownership could mean quite a few things. I've been around for enough acquisitions and business purchases, in the wellness space, to know there isn't a one size fits all approach. From the brief explanation Holland gave on the interested party, it sounds like this is something they do and are good at.

Third, Hazel built this place, our home, and I don't ever see Holland giving this up. Even if he didn't work at the lodge, or sold it, or whatever that entails, I don't see a path where this place doesn't belong to him. Honestly, this is the last piece of Hazel; she poured so much love into this place.

Fourth, Holland loves me. This decision or proposition or whatever we call it, has nothing to do with the state of our relationship. It wasn't fair for me to jump to that conclusion and tie that insecurity to this.

Lastly, I love bubble baths. I feel like they give me the space for clarity.

I sit up, reaching for the towel to dry my hands, before grabbing the thing that changed the trajectory of today. It feels weird to hold this in the bathtub. The pages are crinkled from the rain, being stuffed in pockets, and my overzealous fingers.

I read through every page, not missing anything or skipping ahead. I'm not a lawyer, obviously, but this is written in a way that much of it is easily understood. Greater When Green has enough contingencies to tell me that they seem to be out for what's best for the lodge, and in turn, Holland.

Next, I pull out my phone to open my email. I read through the thread Holland forwarded. My thought of this organization being a good one is reinforced with the patience they've shown Holland and the extra information they've provided. No matter what question Holland asked, they always had an answer, or took the time to find one .

I learn that the offer I read through, wasn't put together until Holland had a meeting with them to share what was most important to him. It looks like, from the meeting notes, this is when Greater When Green explained the perks of ownership but it's clear they still want Holland, and the current staff, involved. All good signs.

But, here's the thing: once you sign on the dotted line, there's lots that can change. Many organizations promise lots of things but rarely follow through. However, this offer is written in a way that much of it would need to be attempted or done, or it seems like the deal could fall through.

Once I've taken in all the new information, I drink a full glass of water. Sweat beads on my forehead, the water still hot enough to have steam roll off it. I leave my phone on the side table, the one Holland bought once he realized how much I loved taking baths.

I sink back into the water, trying to sort through this.

My fingers feel a little weird on my laptop trackpad—still pruny from the long bath. After I soaked for borderline too long, for my skin and my own thoughts, I needed to be productive. Now, I'm almost done reading through all my unread emails—a solid distraction. Unfortunately, my event ‘ay of to-do list' is longer than earlier. For now, it seems like all the key pieces are taken care of and we're tying up loose ends.

Or, that's what I tell myself to make me feel better on the other side of the United States .

I do a weather check and see that there's significant snow coming. My flight back to New York isn't for two more days but I open the airline app to make sure everything is still on schedule. The green "on time" showing by my return flight has me exhaling a breath.

I close my laptop and the door swings open, revealing Holland carrying a bunch of bags. Slate runs to greet him until he feels the gust of cold air coming in from outside. He makes another trip and I'm curious what all he considers supplies.

"It's getting gross out there," Holland says as he brings the rest of the bags in and sets them on the counter. "No snow yet, but some icy roads. The temps are dropping quick." He pulls off his black beanie, his brunette hair all disheveled and cheeks red from the cold.

"What kind of supplies did you get?" I ask.

Holland starts pulling things from bags. "We've got gas for the generator, in case the power goes out. Plus extra groceries, batteries, bottled water, and then the real essentials." He rests his hands on his hips, golden eyes catching mine.

I watch as he pulls out a new blanket, a couple bottles of wine, bags of sour candy, and a puzzle. My face must give me away because then Holland explains, "When we were younger, if there was ever bad weather coming, my mom would always get us a new puzzle. It's a longstanding Holt family tradition."

My heart warms—like it always does—when Holland shares pieces of his childhood. I know it's hard for him to talk about what it was like when Hazel was around, but he shares stories like this every once in a while. It's a little odd to hear when we're sort of dancing around the fight we had earlier—the need to pick up the conversation hangs heavy in the air .

"I love that," I reply before putting my hands on the new blanket, feeling the plush fabric beneath my fingers. "Anything else we need to do?"

"Not really. Everything is good at the lodge and we should be all set here. I can make dinner and then we can continue our discussion, if that works for you." Holland seems unsure as he offers his suggestion, his voice trailing off at the end.

"That sounds like a plan," I say, as I start putting groceries away.

I still don't know what I'm going to say, so I'll take all the time I can.