Page 7 of Meet Me in Ivy Falls

I pulled into an empty spot across the street. Torran hopped out of her truck and raced to the line forming in front of the door. There was still the same bounce in her step – like she heard one of her favorite alternative songs on repeat in her head. She rushed up to a guy standing on the sidewalk who could have been the Rock’s body double.

A sudden ache whipped through me. Was he her boyfriend? Husband?

My hand hovered over the gearshift. All I had to do was put the car in drive and go. But this was where the auction was being held. I could go inside and casually watch as someone bought my old house. If I did run into her, I could say a simple hello. No big deal.

I waited another beat and then another until the sharp rise in my pulse forced my legs out of the car.

What the hell was I doing? Things ended for Torran and me years ago, but I could never get her out of my head. Forget the way she smelled, kissed, stood on tiptoe to whisper in my ear. No matter how many women I dated, they never quite measured up to her, which wasn’t fair. I mean, who really gets over their childhood sweetheart?

Chapter Four

TORRAN

My Best Dream And Worst Nightmare.

‘Right on time as usual,’ Manny teased even as the lines around his eyes deepened. ‘Did you get the checks?’

‘Yep, right here.’ I patted at my front pocket.

‘Good.’ His broad linebacker shoulders relaxed as he gazed at a sea of worn John Deere hats, paint-splattered coveralls and skin worn brown by the late spring sun. ‘Man, there are at least thirty people here.’ He tilted his chin toward the cracked sidewalk leading up to a small yellow bungalow that housed Gold Star Properties, the site of today’s auction.

I stood on my tiptoes counting. ‘Twenty-nine,’ I huffed out.

He gave a good yank on the brim of his Titans baseball cap. ‘Where’d they all come from?’

‘I don’t know but I wish half of them would go home.’

Ferris Johnson turned around and gave me an irritated glare. Around town ‘Fixer Ferris’, as the ladies in the knitting circle liked to call him, was known as a jack of all trades. Helping out widows with overflowing toilets and front doors that squeaked. It was only in the last year he’d turned his interests into renovating houses. He shuffled forward as the line moved, grumbling under his breath about the evils of the internet and green paint.

No matter how much time passed, the locals still gave me trouble about my disastrous TV debut. They could shoot me dark looks, whisper unkind things under their breath as much as they wanted, but I wasn’t going to run away. I wanted this property and no one was going to shame me into giving up.

As the line grew, I recognized a few other contractors who’d challenged me at these auctions over the past year. The rest were out-of-towners whom I guessed wanted a quick turnkey place to make a little cash.

It was hard not to laugh. Had they seen any of the houses listed today?

When the renters moved out of Huckleberry Lane, I might have done a little trespassing. At dusk one evening, I shimmied inside an open window. The putrid stench hit me first. Two steps inside the kitchen and I had to hold my T-shirt up to my nose to breathe. The place was a complete disaster. All the appliances were gone. Sledgehammers had destroyed anything the past tenants couldn’t steal. All the sinks and tub drains were filled with cement. They’d even left gross little surprises in all the toilets which explained the smell.

I’d seen some horrific properties since I first started working with a small construction company back in Phoenix several years ago, but Huckleberry Lane was by far the worst. None of that mattered. I’d loved the house for a long time even if the memories of it made me slightly nauseous.

‘Folks, sign in, grab a numbered paddle, and then follow me to the courtyard outside. We’ll start the auction in five minutes.’ My old classmate, and local real estate magnate, Diego Morales called from the doorway.

People scooted in through the entrance and took their turn scratching their name on a clipboard. When I made it inside, I showed Diego’s assistant, Brittany, my cashier’s check for ten thousand dollars, a requirement to be part of the auction, and a second check showing proof of funds. Once she confirmed my signature, she handed me a bright yellow auction paddle. Manny took it from my shaky hand.

‘What’s going on with you?’ he said, guiding me down a set of brick steps. Magnolia trees flush with bright white blooms circled the cobblestone courtyard providing some much-needed shade. Manny chewed on the corner of his lip. His gaze flicking to me every few seconds. ‘Did you get into it again with your dad?’

‘No,’ I lied. ‘I’m fine.’

His lips formed into a thin line but he didn’t say any more. He knew by the tone of my voice that I didn’t want to talk about it.

The courtyard filled up quickly and I steadied my feet like I was readying for battle. Although I hated it, construction was still a man’s game. Like at every other auction, I had to prove I could stand toe to toe with the men who treated me like a fly who’d dive-bombed into their grits. I’d already renovated several historic homes in town that nobody else wanted, and I’d keep buying and restoring each one until the history of Ivy Falls came alive again.

Even though I’d put on a brave face, I couldn’t help the nervous tap to my foot. The way I knocked the plastic paddle against my leg. I needed this house. If I could bring the property back to its original state, it would shout to every busybody in Ivy Falls that I was committed to this town no matter what I’d said on that video clip.

My mother’s voice floated through my head.

Make it right, Torran.

One of her last wishes was for me to help Ivy Falls, and I’d screwed that up with the video. This house was my final chance to set things right.