Ivy

I ’m staring at my computer screen. It has my email pulled up, and I’ve hit “compose email” seven times, hit the “x” to close it just as many, and that brings me back to my staring. I’m supposed to be sending my father an update on the progress I’ve made and the plans I’ll be implementing. I’ve spoken to two contractors and their crews, they’ll be here tomorrow to start work on the gift shop. I started collecting items from local artisans and now have a plethora of products to showcase.

I’m going to be running an ad for the resort in Denver, hoping to bring in new customers and some of the residents around the area as well. I have a special on our social media account, so if it’s mentioned, you’ll get a promotional 15 percent off your stay with us. That alone has had the phone ringing all morning. Between Jack and I, we’ve managed to book out all the main cabins until New Year’s. We only have two suites left, and then we’ll be considered completely booked for the holiday season, while still able to handle more traffic from the people coming in just for the restaurant, gift shop, and to ski and snowboard.

I’ve managed all of this in my first week here, and yet, I have no idea how to tell my father and him not make me feel like I haven’t done enough. I know my ideas are good, and they’re obviously working. Jack told me this is the most action this place has seen in years. I just know that my success will be met with more expectations, most of which will be unattainable. That’s Sullivan Rutherford though. He sets the goals just to move the post later. You’d think I would become accustomed to it. That after years of coming up just a little short in his eyes, I would be more accepting of my family dynamic. It still stings though. I hate that I care. That I’ve always cared when my whole life has been a one-way street. I give and he takes, and that’s when he’s feeling generous.

It’s not hard to see how I ended up in bed with an older man who told me I was special to him. Noah isn’t quite old enough to be my father or anything, but thirteen years feels like a lot when you’re nineteen years old. He said all the right things that a broken teenager wanted to hear, and I preened at every well-positioned compliment.

“, you’re such an old soul.”

“You really know what you want from life, and I’m starting to think I do too.”

“You’re going to be snatched up before I’ve even had a chance to throw my hat in the ring.”

“I just want to be here for you, .”

“I care about you so much; I think I might be falling for you.”

That all lasted from age nineteen into twenty until I told him that I missed my period. I wasn’t planning on having a child so soon either, but because of what he had told me, I assumed it wouldn’t be so bad. I was wrong. He was furious. He accused me of trapping him. First for his money and then because I was obsessed with him. That hurt. I didn’t need or want his money, and I thought we cared about each other. I thought I might have been in love with him. I think back to the morning I found out.

Two pink lines.

I stared down at my bathroom counter, and two faint pink lines were looking back at me. What does two mean again? I already knew what it meant, but I grabbed the instructions again anyway. I’d read them seventeen times since I opened the box, but I needed to confirm what I believed was a positive pregnancy result. Pee needs to be in the stream for five seconds…wait three minutes…one means…two means…positive. Fuck. Okay. Okay, okay. Shit. Okay. Tears form in my eyes. Is this something I want? I wipe my face with the back of my hand, and it comes away wet. I press a hand to my stomach.

It’s me and you, sweet babe.

I told him that I didn’t need him. I could raise the baby on my own, but he found a way to gain something from the situation. My life and that of our child became a bargaining chip in my father’s business.

He would marry me to avoid scandal, but my father would have to make him a partner in his company. I shut my eyes at the onslaught of memories that follow. The early months when things weren’t so bad. I was happy, and Noah was content. The first time I smelled another woman in our home. The sudden trip to the hospital. The months of depression. The drinking. The facility, and then finally, our divorce. Thankfully, five years was all that was contracted.

My life became my own again a little over a year ago. Just a few weeks before, Noah humiliated me with a new woman on his arm. I was grateful to be apart from him, but the social circle in which we moved had a field day when the news broke. I had to find out with everyone else. I take a deep, steadying breath and start drafting a new email. I won’t delete this one. I’ll send it and comply with the terms of my father and my agreement. I need something that’s mine, and when I’m the new COO of Rutherford Wine, I’ll finally have that, and I’ll be in a position to start phasing Noah out of my company.

I send my email and sit back in my chair. There. Sent. I still need something else. One more stream of revenue for this place, and I’ll be on my way back home. Home. It may be a stretch of the word to say it’s home, but it’s where my life is. A life filled with things and people who don’t seem to care about the real me at all. I’m really good at surrounding myself with people whose intentions I don’t have to analyze. If I already know that they don’t care, then I never have to worry if they do. Vibrations rumbling through my desk pull me from my very introspective thoughts. Thank God, no one should have to spend time in my brain alone. Even me.

I don’t recognize the number, “Hello?” I answer.

“Hi, is this ?” a sweet voice asks me.

“It is, can I ask who’s calling?”

“Hey, . Um, it’s Winnie,” she tells me, and I briefly wonder how she got my number, but I chalk it up to being in a small town .

“Hey, Winnie. How’s it going?” I haven’t seen her since last Tuesday, but I was planning on stopping by Thistle and Sage soon.

“It’s going well. I was wondering if you had plans for the weekend. I know Alder was completely out of line the other night, but I swear he’s not normally like that, and I know he’s sorry,” she rushes out, and I don’t really have plans. Well, unless you count finally getting around to reading my book and drinking a few glasses of wine, which I do count as plans, but…

“He did apologize, and I don’t have any big plans, what’s up?”

“The Christmas tree lighting ceremony is happening in town on Saturday, and I wanted you to come and hang out with us—” I bite my lip. I’ve told Alder I don’t need to be spending extra time with him, and I have a feeling he’ll be involved at least marginally. “If you want to. It’s also the winter carnival, so there will be food and activities. They’re actually bringing in an ice-skating rink this year. I’ll probably avoid it, but it’s fun to watch!” she says. I take a moment to contemplate her offer. It does sound fun, and I would like to visit downtown again.

“Sure, I’d love to come,” I agree, and she lets out a small squeal. It’s adorable and makes me giggle. Since when do I giggle?

“Perfect! I can’t wait to see you. If you meet me at my house first, we can walk over together. That way, you won’t have to worry about parking.”

“That sounds great and thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course. Open invitation. You have my number now,” she tells me, and I’m taken aback by how genuine she sounds.

“Thank you. See you Saturday.”

“See you then! Bye!” She hangs up, and I set my phone back on my desk. I look out the big windows in my office and feel my lips turn up at the corners. I’ve never had a good group of friends. I’ve had people to go out with and people to invite to things, but I don’t remember having real friends. I take in the snowy mountains and the sloped landscape. I look at the gondolas that I still haven’t been on, and Silverthorne grows on me a little more.

Now, it’s time to get back to work. I need to call the few local artists and embroidery shops that I have contact information for and see if they would be interested in designing and producing the clothing and merchandise for the gift shop. I have a to-do list a mile long, but I’m smiling. I’m really enjoying my work here. That’s something I didn’t think I’d ever say.

It’s nearing lunchtime when Jack pops his head into my doorway.

“Hey, . I was getting ready to get some lunch. Would you like to join me?” he asks with a smile that makes me smile. The whole town is getting more yeses from me than I’ve given in the last year. I don’t remember the last time I was so agreeable, but also, I can feel my blood sugar getting low and a headache trying to set in. It would be better for me to head that off.

“That would be great; I’m running on fumes in here,” I tell him, standing and grabbing my purse.

“How are you settling in?” Jack asks as we walk the hallway of The Edgemont.

“Fine. Good actually. I spent some time with Winnie Parker the other night, and I’m going to the Christmas tree ceremony with her and some of her friends this weekend. People here are really nice,” I say.

He’s nodding and smiling at me. “They are. Silverthorne is pretty much exactly what it seems. People like to help one another, and they really care. That’s a very special thing, and it also means you’ll have plenty of eyes on you and noses in your business,” he tells me with a chuckle.

“I can imagine,” I say, and that’s really all I can do. I don’t have experience with small towns or the people in them. “So, what are you doing when you’re not here?” I ask him.

“Well, I ski, and I like to go snowshoeing, so I’m here on the mountain a lot,” he says with a laugh, and it makes me smile. “But when I’m not here, I’m probably at home. I’m not someone who goes out or likes to be very social. I get enough, maybe too much, peopling working here,” he jokes, and I laugh.

“I can understand that,” I tell him, even though I actually don’t understand that too well. I hate being alone. I’m working toward being happier with being alone. I think one of the reasons I started reading was to not be alone with my thoughts. I wasn’t always a big reader, but shortly after I came home from the hospital all those years ago, it became clear I would need an escape from what my life would be for the next five years. Oh shit, didn’t he ask me something?

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” He gives me a patient smile before repeating his question.

“How does Silverthorne compare to your life back in California?”

I blow out a breath. “I wouldn’t say they have much in common at all really, so that would be a very short list,” I say, and thinking about a list now makes me think of twinkling blue eyes. I push onward with my reply. “I grew up on a vineyard until I was in seventh grade and have lived in sunny Southern California since I started boarding school with very minimal visits home,” I answer honestly .

“Did your parents visit you while you were away?” Ouch. I know that Jack can’t know my history. That wouldn’t be why he’s asking, but this particular question speaks to deep-rooted pain.

“Not really.” Is all I say, and luckily, Jack drops this line of questioning, instead sticking to hobbies and traveling. I’m surprised to find I’m having a nice time. Jack’s very sweet and extremely handsome. It’s actually a little astounding that I haven’t met an unattractive man since I arrived. My irrational vampire theories are going to run wild later tonight when I’m alone with them and my other chaotic thoughts.

He walks with me back to my office after our lunch. I have a few more emails I need to send, and I need to grab my coat and phone that I left on my desk. The weather is nice today, and there’s a flurry of activity around the resort.

“So, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I was wondering if you’d like to do this again. Maybe next time it could be over dinner?” Jack asks as we reach the door to the lodge. It probably shouldn’t come as such a shock. We get along, and we’re both attractive single adults. The funny thing is I would have said yes, but now I can’t. As soon as I picture going to dinner with someone, it’s Alder Holloway who I see sitting across from me. Unfortunately. How frustrating that he hasn’t been here all day, and yet he’s still messing with my head.

“I’m flattered, Jack.”

“Oh, no,” he groans, but his words are good-natured. I give him a tight smile. “Let me guess, it has nothing to do with me.” I laugh at that because even when I’m turning him down, he remains so incredibly likable .

“You would be right in assuming that the issue lies with me. I think you’re great?—”

“But…” Jack encourages. I glance up to see a faded green Bronco pass by. If that isn’t comedic timing, I’m not sure what is.

“But I don’t think it would be a good idea…because of the previously mentioned issues.” I finish my sentence, still staring at the truck rumbling down the mountain road.

Jack turns, and too late, I realize my mistake. “Ah, I see,” he concludes.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here. It’s really not like that or like anything. I don’t even like him most of the time,” I rush out.

He raises his hand slightly and smiles a kind smile. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, .”

“Thank you. And I hope we can still get lunch and remain friends. I have really enjoyed getting to know you,” I stress.

“Of course, after I dust myself off from that brutal rejection.” He pauses and winks. “I’m enjoying getting to know you as well. I hope you’ll let me know if anything changes though.”

“I will,” I agree, and then give his arm a friendly squeeze before heading inside. What a day it’s been and a strange turn of events. Annoyingly, I have a certain helicopter pilot on my mind. As I grab my forgotten phone and check my notifications, I find myself wondering how his day was and wanting to ask him. Six texts, all from Sienna, and a missed call from…my father? I expected an email, not a phone call. He’s probably pissed I didn’t answer.

I debate on calling him back tomorrow but decide I should just get it over with. If I know him, and I undoubtedly do, this will be brief but probably painful. I sit down in my chair and pull up the email I’ve sent him, not wanting to be caught unprepared for any questions or concerns he might bring up. I tap his number on my screen and close my eyes.

“. Nice of you to call me back finally.” Finally is twenty minutes after I missed his call, but sure, finally. I sigh.

“So sorry I missed your call. I’ve been busy, as I’m sure you’ve seen from my email,” I tell him in a sickly-sweet voice.

“There’s no need for that, . I just wanted to check in. How are you?” His question throws me momentarily. He doesn’t ask how I am. He asks if I need anything, meaning money and things he could buy with his money, but never his time or attention. That’s never been on the table.

“I-I’m fine. Things are moving fast here, I may not even be here the full three months you’ve given me,” I propose. At that, I get a grunt.

“We’ll see. I called to tell you something, but I can’t remember what it was now. Which is why you should always answer when I call. I’ll send you a message when I have time, but I’m busy the rest of the day. Next time, answer the call, .” He hangs up before I can say goodbye. I stare at my phone. It’s not the first time this has happened, but I keep wondering when it will sting just a little less. I toss the offending object into my purse and head home. The rest of my emails can wait until tomorrow. My stomach is uneasy after that phone call, so I’ll have to trade out my glass of wine for a sparkling water and read my book tonight.