She opened his dresser drawers, lifted up his white T-shirts, looked under his perfectly folded rows of socks. Who folded socks like this, anyway? She was lucky if she found a matching pair in her drawers. Of course, she did her own laundry and rarely bothered folding socks. More and more, she realized just how much her dad was a true weirdo. Men do not fold socks unless they’re . . . weird. There was a name for superneat people like him, but she could not remember what it was. She would have to ask Roxie. If she didn’t know, she would make a point to find out for her.
She had gone through all the drawers and still no phone. She got down on all fours and looked beneath the bed. Nothing. Not even a dust bunny. More evidence her father was a weirdo. Who didn’t cram stuff under their bed?
She would have to search the den and be quick about it. He’d already been gone twenty minutes, so she did not have a lot of time left. His den was as neat as the rest of the house, excluding her room. Her room was clean, but not nearly as clean as the rest of the house. She opened the large filing cabinet against the wall behind his desk. Nothing in there. She moved to his desk, sitting in his chair, which was super comfy. No wonder he spent so much time in here. It was cozy, with the fireplace and all. She tried the bottom right drawer, but it was locked. Then the left, and it, too, was locked. The long middle drawer was not deep enough for their old-fashioned phone, so she scanned the bookshelves and saw nothing but his old yard-work books.
Maybe he’d hidden it in the garage? He probably took it out through the back door, hid it, then came in to tell her he was leaving. She looked at the clock on her father’s desk. It was old-fashioned, too. She had twenty-three minutes left. Before she could overthink the situation, she raced out the back door to the garage.
“Crap,” she said to herself. If the phone was here, no way would she have enough time to search all the possible hiding places. And if she found it, by the time she brought it back inside, plugged it in, and called Roxie, her dad would be home.
Defeated, she went back inside and had no more than sat back down at the table than she heard her father’s truck pulling into the garage. She had barely made it and decided she would have to settle for writing Mrs. Pellegrino a note. She would start now, before she forgot all the things she wanted to ask her.
In her big loopy handwriting she began:
Dear Mrs. Pellegrino:
I need to find out what happened to my mother. Dad does not allow me to talk about her. I am very afraid that he might have done something to her. Like killed her and put her body somewhere. Roxie said you knew my mom. Could you please write me back and give the note to Roxie to bring back to school Tuesday. He will not let me use the phone. I am trapped in this house. Just in case something happens to me.
Sincerely,
Holly Greenwood
Quickly she folded the note and stuffed it in her back pocket. Her dad would kill her if he found it. She heard the back door open and took a breath. Her heart was beating very fast. She focused on the fractions.
“Holly, come and help carry this stuff inside!” he called.
She should add slavery to her long list of complaints, too.
“Be right there,” she said. She turned her math book over on its spine so that he would not be able to see that she was still on the same page. In fact, it would be a good thing if he did, because she would tell him how hard it was and it would take her years to get through the book. She changed her mind, then, and flipped it back over.
She stepped out the back door. Her dad had three grocery bags in one hand and the telephone in the other.
Ass, she thought. “Why do you have the phone out here?” She would act like she was surprised. He knew she would have used the phone the second he left, that was obvious, but she wanted to call his bluff, so she acted surprised. She took one of the large paper bags from him.
“Guess,” he said as he opened the back door. He stood to the side so she could enter first. She looked over her shoulder. She did not trust him at all. He could have a hatchet or something, ready to smash her skull in.
Inside, she hurried to the kitchen and placed the heavy bag on the counter. He placed his bags next to hers. “Want to help me put this stuff away?”
Like I have a choice. “Sure.” She began to empty the bag. Just the usual stuff. Frozen dinners. A bagged premade salad. Some apples. Milk. Cereal. Nothing worth eating.
“I thought we could go out for lunch today,” he said, surprising her.
Holly almost fell to the floor. “Why?”
He had never taken her out to lunch, at least not that she could remember. “Because I know what it’s like being grounded, and having your parent forcing you to study when you’d rather be talking on the phone.” He glanced at the phone he’d placed on the counter. “Or reading. I thought you might enjoy getting out of the house, but if you’d rather not, I can make us a sandwich.”
“No, I mean, yes, that would be fun. I’ll put my math book away and go brush my teeth.”
“Be ready in ten minutes,” her dad called out.
Maybe he wasn’t such a mean ass, after all.
Chapter 20
Ivy could not remember the last time she had eaten in a restaurant with a friend. She occasionally went to dinner with her father, but that was it. Socializing made her feel guilty. Lots of things, in fact, made her feel guilty. Survivor’s guilt, the shrinks called it. She agreed with them, but she was turning over a new leaf. So, again, one step at a time.
She found The Blackberry Café and parked in the parking lot at the rear. She hoped she would recognize Sarah when she saw her. Certainly, she did not sound the same. She entered the café, scanned the few tables, and stopped when she spied Sarah looking over the menu. She had not changed even one little bit. Ivy walked over to the table and pulled out the chair. “Hey, there,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Oh, my God, you look exactly like you did in high school!” Sarah exclaimed. She stood up and gave Ivy a big hug.
“Thanks, you do, too,” Ivy said, feeling a bit bashful all of a sudden.
They both sat down.
“Isn’t this the cutest place ever? I remember my mom picking up her dry cleaning here,” Sarah said. “It smelled so bad, I’d always get a headache when she would send me inside to pick up the clothes.”
Ivy nodded. “It’s perfect, though I would never in a million years have thought someone could turn the old cleaners into such a quaint little spot.” Ivy took in her surroundings. The walls were painted a pale lavender, and paintings of blackberry bushes covered one wall. Shelves displaying cookbooks for sale, along with jams and jellies and aprons, gave off an air of hominess. A large glass case opposite them held all kinds of cakes, pies, and cookies. The tables were white wicker with blackberry-colored cushions. Definitely nicer than the dry cleaners. There were three other tables occupied besides theirs. Not too busy for Saturday afternoon, and that was fine with her.
“I’m so glad you looked me up. I wanted to call you . . . after, but I didn’t,” Sarah said.
“I got your card and the flowers. They were beautiful.” And they were. “Thank you for remembering me.” This is not how she wanted their lunch to start, but maybe it was best to get it out of the way first. Sort of like the elephant in the room. It was there and hard to ignore.
“You’re welcome, Ivy. It was a sad day in the world for all those people.” Sarah was always genuine and kind—not a mean bone in her body when they were in high school. Ivy could just look at her and tell she was as special now as she was then.
“Okay, let’s talk about us,” Sarah announced. “You need cheering up, I can tell.”
Ivy laughed. “Am I that obvious? And here I thought I was putting on a good front. Seriously, I’m glad we’re here.” She looked around her. “I need to start enjoying life again. It’s hard. I feel so guilty. Sorry, I know you do not want to hear this.”
Sarah nodded. “Of course I want to hear what you have to say. It might he
lp to talk about what’s been going on. I’m fine, Ivy. You can’t wipe away the past like you wipe down a chalkboard. If it were only that easy.”
A young girl around eighteen or so appeared at the table. She wore jeans, a purple T-shirt that read THE BLACKBERRY CAFÉ, and a cream-colored apron with hand-painted blackberries on the pockets. “Can I get y’all something to drink?”
Ivy smiled at Sarah. The girl’s accent was so heavy, it was hard to understand what she said. But they had both been born and raised in North Carolina, so they got it.
“I’ll try the blackberry tea, iced,” Ivy said.
“Me too,” Sarah said.
As soon as the young girl stepped away from their table, Sarah laughed, and said, “Did I sound that Southern?”
“Worse,” Ivy said, and they both burst out laughing.
“Seriously?” Sarah probed.
“Close, but not as bad,” Ivy said.
“I have a couple of kids in my class who are hard to understand, but it’s a regional thing, and it’s what they’re used to. I do try to make sure the students use hard consonants though, and no slang. They always roll their eyes when I explain this to them, but they’re young still, and learning. I give them a break whenever I can. I’ve got a good class this year.”
Sarah had opened the door for the real reason Ivy had suggested that they meet for lunch. “Do you remember Rebecca? Her mother was Mom’s nurse?”
“Of course I do. I have one of her boys in my class. Thomas, brilliant little guy, too.”
Now, how to go about telling her story? Start at the beginning, she thought, the beginning.
“Last night, I had a strange visitor,” she started, then plunged ahead. “I think she’s in your class. Her name is Holly Greenwood.”
Sarah’s face brightened more, if that was even possible. “Holly? I didn’t know you knew her?”
“I didn’t until last night. Apparently, she was out alone and got lost in the woods behind my place. She was very frightened when she called her father to come pick her up, and he was not the friendliest man I have ever met, either.”
A shadow filled the entrance, and Ivy was stunned when she saw the very man she had been talking about filling the doorway. Sarah’s eyes followed her own.
Ivy whispered, “Speak of the devil.”
“Daniel Greenwood. I have had my eye on that man for months. A hunk, don’t you think? I was thinking about inviting him and Holly over for Thanksgiving dinner this year. I just haven’t figured out how to approach him yet.”
Ivy felt like she had been kicked in the gut. She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. Holly saw her and Sarah and practically ran over to their table.
“Hey, Ivy. Hello, Ms. Anderson. I didn’t know you two were friends,” Holly said, all smiles now. Where was the frightened child who’d appeared on her doorstep last night?
“We have known one another since high school,” Sarah said. “We were just catching up on old times. Why don’t you and your father join us. We haven’t placed our orders yet.”
By this time, Daniel Greenwood stood towering over their table. “Mr. Greenwood? Would you like to join us?”
A shadow of annoyance crossed his face, and his reply sounded impatient. “I guess I can. I need to talk to you, anyway, so it might as well be here.”
Ivy glanced at Sarah. Her friend’s face was pink with embarrassment. This guy was incredibly rude. Why Sarah would want to invite him for Thanksgiving dinner was a mystery.
Holly’s voice was laced with exasperation when she said, “Dad!”
“Sorry, I mean, sure, we would like to join you two ladies.”
Ivy could not keep quiet. “If it’s inconvenient for you, please do not feel obligated.”
She barely knew this man, and already she did not like him. Not at all. What kind of man lets an eleven-year-old child roam the woods at night?
“No, it’s fine, really. Let me grab a couple chairs,” he said.
“It’s so cool to see you outside the classroom. Aren’t you supposed to be grading our quizzes for Monday?” Holly asked.
“I finished up this morning,” Sarah told her. “And do not tell anyone I told you, but you did very well. I’m super proud of you.” Sarah gave Holly’s hand a quick squeeze.
“Math?” Ivy asked.
“How did you know?” Sarah asked.
“We talked about it a bit last night,” Ivy explained. “Holly says she prefers spelling and English.” Ivy smiled at the little girl. She was going to be stunning in a few years. She could almost feel sorry for her father, but didn’t.
“I was lost and saw Ivy’s lights on last night. She let me use her phone,” Holly explained to Sarah.
“Well, that was very kind of her, but why were you in the woods after dark?” Sarah asked, concern on her face.
Daniel Greenwood appeared with a chair in each hand. He placed them on either side of the table. He motioned for Holly to sit down; then he sat down.
At least he has manners, Ivy thought. Or is this just an act for Sarah’s sake?
“Why don’t you tell Ms. Anderson why you were out last night?” Daniel’s voice was that of a stern father, and he never took his eyes from his daughter’s face.
Is this his way of silencing her? He is really quite intimidating, Ivy thought. A big man, muscular, though he was handsome in a rugged, mountain man sort of way.
“I went home with Roxie and we had pizza. Then I sneaked over to Miss Carol’s to practice for The Upside’s annual Christmas musical. I was only supposed to be gone an hour, while Kayla and Roxie covered for me. Instead, I ended up getting lost, and that’s when I saw Ivy’s porch light. I followed the light, then I knocked on her door to use her phone. I’m grounded now and have to study math all weekend, plus three hours every night until I bring my B minus up to an A.” After telling her story, Holly proceeded to give her dad a dirty look.
Ivy could not help but grin. Holly was a spunky little thing. Maybe she had jumped the gun. Maybe she was ornery, and her father was putting his foot down.
“The Upside? How did you get involved with that place?” Ivy asked, her curiosity suddenly piqued.
“My dad works there,” Holly said.
Ivy was stunned at Holly’s words.
Her father works at The Upside?
The waitress brought their blackberry teas. “Y’all gonna be eatin’ at the same table? I can bring ya a drink if ya are.”
“We are,” Sarah told the waitress.
“I’ll have an ice tea. Holly?” Her father raised his brows.
“Can I have what they’re having?” she asked.
“Sure,” he answered.
“So a regular ice tea an’ a blackberry tea? Be right back.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Daniel Greenwood replied.
“Mr. Greenwood is a horticultural specialist. He designs all the landscaping for The Upside,” Sarah explained.
“Is that so, Mr. Greenwood? How did you get involved with The Upside?”
He shook his head, his long hair brushing the collar of his shirt. A well-fitting shirt, Ivy thought.
“I studied horticulture in college.”
College? Ivy had misjudged this man by his appearance. She thought he was employed by the cemetery. Not that that was a bad job, but she was glad when he’d said he worked at The Upside.
“That’s interesting. I always wondered about the landscaping there. It’s beautiful. I just assumed they had . . . To tell you the truth, I’m not sure what I thought,” Ivy admitted. She never really discussed her father’s other business ventures. The airline was enough.
“Lawn boys?” Daniel Greenwood said. He actually smiled.
Ivy’s heart lurched. Good grief, the man is beyond good-looking when he smiles. No wonder Sarah is so interested in him.
“No, not exactly. I just did not know. Truly.” And she gave him a genuine smile in return. She had been wrong about this guy. Sarah was right. He was a hunk, probably
one of those dads who had a hard time raising a daughter on his own.
The waitress returned and placed two more glasses on the table. “I can put y’all at a bigger table if you want.” She said the last word like won’t.
“This is perfect, but thanks,” Sarah said.
Ivy felt a slight nudge beneath the table. Sarah wanted to be as close to Daniel Greenwood as humanly possible.
For a split second, Ivy couldn’t blame her.
The young girl stood by the table and patiently took their orders, answering their questions patiently. She was a good waitress for one so young, Ivy thought.
“Now, y’all hang tight, an’ I’ll put this order in right away.”
As soon as she stepped away from the table, they all grinned.
Chapter 21
It had been years, if ever, since Daniel had had lunch with two beautiful ladies at once, longer than he wanted to admit. And Holly was gorgeous, just like her mother, so make that three beautiful women, one much younger than the other two. He was not real thrilled when Sarah Anderson had invited him and Holly to join her and the lady from last night, because he knew that Sarah had a massive crush on him. Word traveled fast in small towns. She was sweet and attractive, and an excellent teacher, but he felt nothing even close to attraction for her.
Now, this other woman, Ivy, she was unlike any woman he’d encountered lately. Maybe even ever. There was something sad and haunting in her green eyes. They reminded him of newly sprouted seedlings, they were such a deep green. Her skin was as white as a fresh-picked gardenia.
He chuckled, realizing that he was thinking like a lovesick puppy.
“Dad, are you okay?” Holly asked. “You look weird.”
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