Page 3 of Meet Me in Ivy Falls

Chapter Two

TORRAN

Another Link In The Gossip Chain.

Six months later…

With the chime of the clock tower ringing in my ears, I raced across the wide lawn in front of town hall, dodging kids playing freeze tag and mothers swapping local gossip.

Two more chimes.

Three o’clock.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Being late was sort of my signature move. No matter how early I set my alarm, planned out my day, I was always about ten minutes behind. My mom claimed it was because I was always lost in my own world. Dreaming up designs for beautiful houses with big red doors and backyards big enough for family barbecues. I thought I was being creative. Everyone else thought I was being rude. Mom never pushed me on it because she said even in the womb I was taking my own sweet time, showing up two days past my due date.

God, I missed her.

Sometimes the grief was so powerful I wasn’t sure I could get out of bed. But I’d let enough people down in my life and I had to push forward.

The scent of fresh cream and milk chocolate spilled out of the Dairy Dip as I raced past its wide glass doors facing the center of the square. My steel-toed boots pounded against the uneven brick sidewalk as I picked up my speed. A thin sheen of sawdust and colorful drops of paint covered the toes. Each mark a thrilling memory of the jobs I’d worked on. My younger sister, Tessa, groaned every time I wore them. I didn’t care. They gave me confidence. And on a day like today when the future of my business hung in the balance, I’d take all the positive I could get.

I kept my gaze forward trying not to make eye contact with Old Mrs Vanderpool who stood outside Ginny’s candle shop. Her teacup Yorkie – Baby, who was dressed in a red and green Gucci sweater – barked at me. As I passed by, she whispered out a curse that was just loud enough for me to hear.

Not today. NOT. TODAY.

A few kids zipped past me on their scooters and I was grateful for their smiles. At least there were a few people in this town who didn’t hate me.

My phone buzzed in the front pocket of my overalls. I was sure it was another text from Manny fuming that I wasn’t on time. Again.

A car pulled through the only downtown stoplight. Once it passed, I rushed through the crosswalk, the bubble of the limestone fountain buzzing in my ears.

Every inch of Ivy Falls held a vivid memory for me. Skinned knees on brick paths as I learned to ride a bike. The warmth of my mother’s hand as she led me to Val’s Bakery to buy fresh bread. Even the heated thrill of my first kiss which happened in the tree-lined alley behind the Sugar Rush Café.

My phone buzzed again and this time I started to sprint. When I reached the far corner, I stopped in front of my destination: Ivy Falls Community Bank.

Open An Account With Us. It Makes Cents! was written on the stark white sign planted outside the two-story brick building my dad owned.

Since my father became mayor, he’d started a contest called ‘The Sign Says It All’, encouraging local businesses to be clever with their signage. It was meant to build community spirit. Encourage tourism. But all it did was add to the fiery competition between the store owners who were always trying to one up each other.

If my father’s staff thought this saying was going to earn them a win, they were in for a disappointment.

The scent of freshly waxed linoleum and old copper pennies hit me when I yanked open the wooden door. A few customers lingered in the teller line. When their stares landed on me, I looked away. I should be used to the angry glares by now. The way most people in town treated me like I was the walking plague. More than once my mom’s voice rang in my head, telling me to be the bigger person, but it was hard when practically every resident of Ivy Falls saw me as the local pariah.

Should I have cursed out the town while on camera?

Probably not. But when your heart was breaking you did a lot of stupid things.

With my head tucked down, I made my way toward the corner of the wide square room. I was only steps from Isabel the bank manager’s desk when Amos Tucker locked eyes on me.

From the time I was five, my dad’s best friend and assistant would squat down next to me and ask about school. What kind of trouble I’d gotten into lately. In his regular uniform of a white button-down, khaki pants and bright red suspenders, Amos would plop me onto his desk chair with the squeaky wheels and spin me in a circle. My giggles filled the room until my father scolded us for our behavior. Amos would wait until my father shut his office door and then spin me a couple more times. Even now, twenty-two years after that first spin, he still had a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. He was one of the few people in Ivy Falls who didn’t want me to burst into flames every time he saw me.

‘Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Torran Wright. How are you, darlin’?’ He patted the sparse pieces of white hair clinging to his scalp before reaching into his desk and pulling out a butterscotch candy and offering it to me.

‘No thank you,’ I said.

‘You sure?’ He frowned. ‘These used to be your favorite.’