Page 4 of Meet Me in Ivy Falls

When I was five.

‘Sorry, Amos, I’m in sort of a hurry. Isabel has my checks for the auction.’

‘Did you see my message on the sign?’ His hearing had never been very good. ‘Pretty clever, right? I think we’re going to win.’ His cheeks pinked up as he nudged my side with his elbow.

‘It’s cute,’ I offered.

He arched a wiry white brow at me. ‘Hmmm. Not impressed, huh? I’ve got funnier ones coming!’

I scanned the corners of the room, surprised by how few people shifted around the space. The bank was usually humming with people looking to talk to the loan officers or making deposits for their local businesses.

‘Looking for your dad?’ Amos followed my shifting gaze.

‘No.’ The word burst from my lips too quickly.

This was the exact reason why I tried to avoid Amos every time I walked in the door. He and my dad grew up on the same street. Were on the town council together. He was like a beloved old uncle who told the same two stories over and over. By now I knew how to smile in the right places, laugh at the same jokes, because that was the sort of thing you did for the people you cared about. But being interrogated every time I stepped in the door had me rethinking my decision to have my business accounts here.

Not that I had a choice: my dad’s bank was the only one within twenty square miles of Ivy Falls.

As if sensing my distress, Isabel appeared near the row of teller booths and waved in my direction.

‘Gotta go, Amos.’

‘Sure. Good to see you, kid.’ He opened his mouth, hesitated like he wanted to say something but shook his head. I’d gotten that a lot in the last six months.

I rushed over the beautiful white oak floors toward Isabel’s desk. It wasn’t until I fell in love with architecture during my senior year of high school that I noticed the beauty of this old building. The stark white crown molding. The hand-carved cornices in every corner of the room. A true show of craftsmanship from Marcus Bosworth who’d built most of the early buildings in Ivy Falls after it was incorporated in the late eighteenth century. It was buildings like these that I was trying so hard to save.

I slid onto the chair and leaned in. ‘Can we make this quick, Isabel? I’m running late and I give Amos two minutes before he tells my dad I’m here.’

‘Of course, sweetie. I’ll get you out of here lickety-split.’

She slid open her desk drawer with a polished red fingernail. One of my dad’s smarter decisions was to hire Isabel fifteen years ago. People were surprised when they learned she had a Harvard law degree but was working in such a small town. As she explained it, all the schooling in the world could get you places, but those places were worthless unless you loved being there.

It took one month, and a hot-off-the-press high school diploma, before I left Ivy Falls. Much to my father’s chagrin, I’d picked the college with the most miles between me and the small Tennessee town where I grew up. But when my mom was diagnosed with colon cancer two years ago, and my little sister’s husband left her with two small children right after, Ivy Falls yanked me back quicker than a sudden spring tornado.

‘I made the checks out for the exact amounts you wanted. When you give Diego your winning bid,’ she winked, ‘fill in the payee info and you’re good to go.’

Her eyes narrowed and I braced for it. The quiet lecture about how I’d disappointed everyone. How it was sad that a hometown girl would say such awful things about the place she grew up, but the smile she trained on me was anything but bitter.

‘Alabaster Cream?’ She pointed to the white paint caked to the end of my ponytail.

‘No,’ I said, reaching for the twisted bit of hair that hung over my shoulder. ‘It’s called Winter Moonlight. I painted the inside of the house on Parkview in this color. It makes the dark wood accents look clean.’

She leaned in, lowering her voice. ‘I know you miss Phoenix, but you’re starting to make a real difference in this town.’ Her lips pinched together and her gaze went weary. Maybe I was going to get a lecture. Instead, she pulled in a heavy breath and said, ‘This place needs…’ She broke off. Shook her head. ‘What I mean to say is that you should get a little recognition for taking on the hard projects. Making good changes in Ivy Falls.’

I tried not to laugh. What this town really wanted was to string me up by my thumbs after what I’d done to embarrass them.

‘All I need is to win the property at the auction today. Since Huckleberry Lane went into foreclosure, I’ve been dreaming about all the ways it can be beautiful again. How I can restore the intricate ironwork on the widow’s walk. Rebuild that wraparound porch so the new owners can sit on it and have a cool glass of sweet tea on a summer afternoon. It’d be my first major project since I’ve been back.’

‘If Diego had any sense at all, he’d sell you the place outright. I know Huckleberry Lane was one of the first big houses that was built in Ivy Falls after it was incorporated. It’s a darn shame it’s gone to rot.’

There was a tense roll to her words that was odd for the usually laid-back Isabel. I wondered if my dad was in one of his ‘moods’ today.

I wished she was right about Diego and Huckleberry Lane but lately too many homes in town with decades of history were put on the market. I saw each one as a living, breathing manifestation of Ivy Falls’ history. Through the grit and grime, I visualized the potential to turn each property back into beautiful showpieces again.

The renovation vultures who attended the auctions were another story. As soon as they saw the listings, they descended like soulless ghouls with visions of bland, cream-colored duplexes that’d turn Ivy Falls into just another plain and charmless town. I couldn’t let that happen, especially to the house on Huckleberry Lane.

It was a bad idea to get attached to any home with sentimental value because it messed with your business brain, but I didn’t care. Huckleberry Lane was my last shot at redemption. A chance to earn back the town’s respect, as well as re-establish my reputation, after I’d become a one-hit wonder on the internet.