When Bentley looked surprised, she continued, still in that dangerous voice. “Don’t you dare even speak to her. Don’t call her. Don’t text her. Don’t take a single shift that overlaps with hers. You’ve ruined enough.” Lex’s sigh did not seem to release any tension, but her voice was quieter when she said, “Leave her to me.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ivy hadn’t dared to take any extra shifts at Velvet Undergrounds, just in case Bentley happened to be on. She’d told Old Betty that she wouldn’t work with him anymore, and even though she knew that was a little silly and juvenile, she was aware that it would be far more silly and juvenile to burst into tears at the coffee shop. She wished she was tough and angry. Or even that she was cold and uncaring. That way, if she ran into him, she could appear careless and breezy.
She knew better. She could try to put on a shell, but no ear cuffs or combat boots could change the nature of her mushy heart. Bentley had deceived her. He’d been lying to her the whole time he’d known her. And even though she should have known what he was going to do (namely, trick and deceive her, because that was what rich guys did, in all her vast experience), knowing she should have seen it coming didn’t make it hurt less.
She felt foolish. She’d let him in, and he’d shown her what he was made of.
“Fool me twice,” she muttered. Old Betty looked at her with something that could have been translated into sympathy, but she didn’t want to talk to Betty.
“Just to myself, apparently.” Oops. She glanced at Betty, who kindly pretended not to have heard Ivy losing her marbles.
Ivy was crouched over refilling the pastry shelves when she heard Old Betty say, “How can I help you?”
An unmistakable drawl answered, “I’d like to talk to Ivy, if you don’t mind.” She felt her stomach clench. It was her. Perfect Blonde. Bentley’s sister. Lexus Hollis.
For a few seconds before she was required by basic politeness and a Velvet Undergrounds contract to stand up and serve this woman, Ivy stayed crouched in the pastry display, inhaling sugary buttered carb scents. The thought crossed her mind that she should stay here, head inside the case, until Lexus left. Reality, however, had a way of intruding, and Ivy knew she couldn’t hide, at least not behind a lighted glass door. She stood.
Wiping her hands on a towel, she lifted her chin and made eye contact with Lexus. “Help you?” she asked.
“You know who I am.” Lexus’s words were not a question, but Ivy nodded anyway. “So you know why we need to talk.”
This part? Ivy wasn’t so sure about.
Lex didn’t wait for an answer. “How about you make us a couple of cups of something sweet and take a little break.” Again, not a question. Maybe this woman was unused to asking for anything.
Maybe she’d never heard anyone say no to her.
Ivy wished she could use the excuse that the shop was too busy, but there was nobody in line. She glanced at Old Betty, who nodded.
Lexus pointed to a couch, as if Ivy wouldn’t have been able to find her in the shop.
She poured two mugs of iced hot chocolate, dolloped on a mound of whipped cream, and scooped on chocolate shavings. Almost as an afterthought, she gave both mugs a healthy squirt of hazelnut syrup. There was no reason not to, after all. This might by Ivy’s last beverage. It might as well be delicious.
Ivy carried the mugs to the couch where Lex sat, tapping into her phone with her perfect fingernails clicking.
Was she supposed to sit? If she refused, and instead simply stood here while Lexus shouted at her, she’d at least have the advantage of height.
She could imagine how it would play out: Lexus would loudly point out all of Ivy’s flaws, possibly from the top of her hair to the bottom of her boots, possibly from the vague to the glaring, possibly alphabetically. She would mention each imperfection, each sign of unworthiness, and remind Ivy that she was not cut out to date a wealthy, handsome, successful man. Which Ivy remembered very well from the last time she was in a relationship with a rich guy.
Lexus clicked off her phone and set it on the low table in front of her. She patted the couch cushion beside her and gave Ivy a smile that was beautiful enough to trust, almost.
Ivy sat.
How, she wondered, was a person supposed to prepare herself for the kind of barrage that was coming? Was she expected to explain herself? Would Lexus even allow it?
When Lexus tossed her hair over her shoulder, Ivy felt her back stiffen as if she would need to defend herself from a physical attack. She felt her arms tense up. Did she really think Lexus would hit her? Just in case, Ivy’s glance flicked from face to arms and back to face.
Lexus picked up her mug, took a tentative sip, and managed not to get any foamy cream on her lips. From that perfectly made-up mouth came a sentence Ivy had not been expecting.
“The company is prepared to make you a significant offer not to talk about what you know.”
Ivy shook her head in confusion. She wanted to say something elegant and carefree, but what came out of her mouth was, “Huh?”
The smile disappeared from Lexus’s mouth. “I’m not buying the dumb act,” she said, her voice low. “If you’d like to play hardball, I have a highly skilled legal team at my disposal. I can simply not imagine how that would end in any way that could benefit you. You need to sign this,” she said, pulling a sheaf of papers out of her expensive-looking leather bag. “And you need to remain silent on all things related to Titus Cameron and Cameron Enterprises. No commentary, no online postings, and no answering questions from the press.”
Ivy took a moment to process Lexus’s words.
“You came here so I’d sign this pile of papers? And agree—for money—not to talk to anyone about Bentley’s work?”
Exasperated didn’t adequately describe the look on Lexus’s face. “Obviously.”
Ivy shook her head. “It’s not obvious to me,” she said. “This is crazy-person talk.”
Lexus breathed in and out through her nose as she uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. “No. It’s business.”
Ivy couldn’t help herself. “Is everything business to you?” she asked.
“Not everything. But the important things.” She said it without an ounce of irony.
Ivy allowed herself to feel sorry for Lexus Hollis for a minute. Maybe a minute and a half. Then she pulled the pen out from behind her ear and the sheaf of papers across the table toward herself.
She flipped through the papers, eyes flitting across each page. She was in no state to take in and understand the legalese of the document, but she had heard the words “significant offer,” and she’d seen movies. There was money involved. It made her feel a little bit dirty, this scan through the paper to see how much her silence was worth to Cameron Enterprises.
She knew enough about how brains worked to understand that if she was looking for digits, the words would slide past without registering in her conscious mind. She made her eyes slide across every line anyway. But when her eyes landed on a figure—an extremely large figure—she felt a gasp escape her mouth. She covered it with a cough.
“I should probably have my lawyer look over this,” Ivy said. Then, under her breath, “I’ve always wanted to say that.” She glanced at Lexus for the barest second—enough time to see her hide her grin. It only lasted a second, but it did the trick. Lexus became a real person.
All the times Lexus had been in the shop, watching Bentley work, staring around her with a superior look, she’d scared Ivy to death. That perfect hair, those perfect clothes, and the perfect disdain for the lowbrow, common people around her made Ivy shrink into herself, sure that she was being judged and found unworthy.
But now, this tiny, hidden grin, brought out by something funny Ivy had said, touched the terrifying perfection and made Lexus human. Ivy signed where the little sticky flags pointed, occasionally glancing up from the forms toward Lexus’s face. There was no repeat of the smile. Lexus didn’t take her eyes off the paper, making sure Ivy signed every nece
ssary line.
When Ivy finished, Lexus picked up the packet, flipped through each page, and finally gave a nod of satisfaction. She knocked the papers against the table to straighten the edges and said, “I’ll get you a notarized copy of this document in the next few days.” She stood. “And you should see the first portion deposited in your account within twenty-four hours.”
“Do you need an account number or something?” Ivy asked. The reality of what was happening would flit into her head like a soap bubble and then pop and disappear. She couldn’t hold on to a thought. Had she really just entered into a legal agreement? And what exactly had she promised? She wasn’t sure. But it didn’t matter. She wasn’t planning on talking to him ever again anyway. Or about him. Seemed like that would cover it.
Lexus shook her head. “I have access to all your information.”
That could be threatening, but Ivy didn’t think it was meant to be. Lexus worked for Bentley’s company, and so did Ivy, and therefore all the information was accessible. Lexus was simply used to her ability to get everything she wanted and needed. Must be nice.
Then the thought settled into Ivy’s mind: By tomorrow I’ll have more money than I’ve ever had before. In exchange for not talking to Bentley again.
She felt a twinge of regret which didn’t go away like most twinges. More like a deep, sharp twist of regret that felt like it would stay there, in the middle of her chest, somewhere near her heart. Possibly directly over her heart. Forever.
She shook her head to clear away any thoughts of hearts or regrets. When she weighed the pros and cons in this strange new situation, she always came out the winner. So, she couldn’t talk about Titus Cameron. Big deal. She could help Lucille pay for a new place to live. So, she may or may not have promised, in a legal document, never to speak to, listen to, call, text, look at, or breathe the same air as Bentley Hollis (she’d really have to read the words of the contract she’d signed eventually, she thought). She’d lived without him just fine before he showed up in her coffee shop. His coffee shop. Whatever.
Only when she heard the bell over the door ring did Ivy realize that Lexus was gone.
Ivy looked around the shop, everyone around her experiencing a normal weekday afternoon. She stood up and straightened her apron. Would any afternoon feel normal to her again? She took a deep breath. “And so begins my Hollis-free life,” she said. “First order of business: Stop talking to myself.”
Right.
She slipped in behind the counter, washed her hands, and greeted her next customer. She felt like a robot, hitching a smile onto her face and going through the motions to give everyone what they asked for.
Meanwhile, her brain spun with the unknowns of the new arrangement she’d entered.
When she looked at the clock, she was relieved to see that she only had thirty minutes left.
The door chimed again, and she smiled as Walt walked in. He didn’t say his usual line, though. “Hi, Walt. Do you know what you want today?”
“Do you have a minute?” he asked, pointing to a table in the corner.
She looked a question at Elizabeth, who nodded. “I’ve got this,” she said, possibly the nicest words she’d ever spoken in Ivy’s presence.
Walt held out a chair for Ivy, and she sat. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Are you?” he repeated.
She nodded. “Fine. Weird day.”
He put his hands on the table. “I know.”
She looked at him and felt the truth of that sentence. She didn’t know how to respond, so she waited.
“Ivy, I’m Walter Hollis.”
She felt her brain screech to a halt. No words came to her mind.
Walt, her sweet coffee shop friend, the guy who let her choose his beverages, was Walter Hollis? Of Hollis Holdings? One of the most wealthy and successful businessmen in the country? And, most strangely, Bentley’s dad?
Could this be real?
But he was so normal.
He continued. “And I want to apologize. I feel like I haven’t been upfront with you.”
She wanted to laugh. Of course he’d not been upfront. But since when had “upfront” described anyone in that family? She sat still and said nothing.
He cleared his throat and gestured around the shop. “This place is one of my investments. As such, I’m interested in how it works, top to bottom. I go into all the locations, but this one is my favorite. For reasons that I hope you understand,” he added, with a gentle smile. “And since it is my favorite, this is the one I suggested Bentley come to work at.”
Ivy felt herself flush at the mention of his name. She looked down, hoping to hide it.
“And I fear that I’ve made things uncomfortable.”
Finally, something Ivy felt she could comment on. “None of that was your fault,” she said.
He shrugged, and for a second, Ivy could see Bentley in him. “I stay a polite distance from my kids’ business affairs—and their personal ones—as a matter of principle.” He shook his head. “But since I’m not going to be coming here so often, I wanted to say goodbye. And thank you.”
She breathed out a sigh that resembled a laugh. “What for?”
“You make this place work,” he said simply. “You understand what it’s all about. People,” he clarified. “You’re connected, and you make customers feel connected, too. So,” he said, pushing his chair away from the table, “I wish you continued success. And I hope that you’ll keep sharing your good ideas. The best things come from unexpected collaborations, you know.” He patted her shoulder and said goodbye.
She stayed at the table until she heard the door signal his departure. Before she stood, she gathered in a deep breath. She hoped no other Hollis family members were on their way into the shop today.
She didn’t know if she could take it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bentley knew better than to keep up an argument with Lex. She’d cleaned up his mess. She had arranged everything. The least he could do was go along with her decisions. The shop where he’d finish out his contract was far from Ivy’s home, far from Centennial Glen, and—if Lex got her way, as usual—unlikely a place as any for Bentley to accidentally run into Ivy.
He opened the door and walked into the Lincoln Street Velvet Undergrounds shop and looked around. It looked exactly like every other Velvet Undergrounds, which was, he reminded himself, the point. Walking up to the counter, he felt the same glimmer of uncertainty he’d felt the first day he’d started working with Ivy.
Stop it, he told himself. Thinking about Ivy wasn’t productive. Or helpful. But somehow he couldn’t stop.
Ivy hadn’t returned any of his calls. She’d left his texts unread. He’d stopped short of showing up on her doorstep, but only because Lex told him that would be stalker-ish and desperate. And that he wasn’t allowed to by reason of legal decisions.
The barista who welcomed him was nearly seven feet tall with an impressive man-bun. His name tag said Hugh. More like Huge, Bentley thought. “Hi, there. What can I get you?” he asked.
“Hi. I’m Ben.” He stopped himself before saying the rest. He didn’t want anyone in this shop to know he was a Hollis. Hiding that would be easier if he was just Ben. “I’ve been working in a different location for a bit, and corporate issued a transfer.” Why did he feel so nervous and uncomfortable saying that? It was all true.
Maybe because he hated that it was all true.
“Right on,” the guy said. “I’m Hugh. Glad you’re here.” He held out his hand across the counter and Bentley shook it, reminded of his favorite Roald Dahl book from second grade. This guy was definitely a big friendly giant.
Pointing to the touchpad, Hugh said, “Here’s the sign-in.” Bentley put his hand on the pad, and the computer read his prints. He knew that the system was automatically connecting his personnel file to his timecard. It was a pretty slick system, he knew, and made it simple for people to transfer from one shop to another. “So, you know how things
work around here?” Hugh asked, and Bentley nodded. Hugh tossed him an apron. Bentley tied it around his waist and got to work.
He was certain that at least four hours had passed when he next checked his watch. Thirty-seven minutes? Impossible. Or at least improbable. Working in the shop with Ivy, time always flew by. Even when she made him clean the bathrooms and carry out sour-smelling laundry bags, the days passed more quickly.
Now, he thought, it must be time to clock out and go. He checked his watch again. No way.
“You in a hurry?” Hugh didn’t sound annoyed, just curious. He piled a stack of go-cups higher. Bentley wouldn’t be able to reach the top if he kept that going.
“Not in a hurry. Just getting used to the rhythm of a new place.” Bentley untied and retied his apron string. “Do you have a busy time of the day?”
Hugh nodded. “Before eight in the morning is madness. All morning Saturdays and Sundays. There’s usually a lunchtime rush. Afternoons are quiet here.” Bentley didn’t much care about the busy hours. It didn’t matter to him if the time flew or crawled. He would spend it all thinking about Ivy.
Hugh gave a sympathetic nod, as if he knew what Bentley was thinking. “When it gets slow, we pretty much watch each other clean things and try to guess what the odd ones are going to do next. You, for instance, have replaced Len, who you’ll be sorry to have missed.” Hugh leaned against the counter, settling in as if for a long chat. “I didn’t see his name on the schedule for this week or next, so maybe he got a better job.”
He shook his head as if to erase part of that thought. “Not that there’s anything wrong with this job. It was just never quite what Len was hoping for. See, Len is a classic example of what happens when every day holds vast, unlimited possibility and then reality parks on the front lawn. Opportunity ends in regret. Every morning there was a new story about the chance of a lifetime that barely slipped out of his reach, and every afternoon held the possibility for a fast million after work.”
Hugh ran a white cloth along the edge of the counter beside him, his reach impressive, lifting whatever got in the way and setting it back down. “He thought working here would make him Titus Cameron.” He laughed. “Len thought he could get rich by association. Can you imagine? Titus Cameron working in a place like this?”
Always & Forever: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (ABCs of Love Collection, Books 1 - 4) Page 30