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“Oh, I know what’s wrong, darlin’. The instant HoneyCam came ’round with his sad puppy eyes, I pulled the truth right outta him.”
My shoulders fell. “Oh. Are—are you mad at me?”
She paused to look at me as if I was silly. “Mad at you? Honey, the only person here that deserves any anger is Shep, but that ain’t my place.”
I snuck a glance toward Shep’s office. “Is he here?”
“Haven’t seen him.”
With a sigh, I pulled out a string of lights from another box, plugging them in to make sure they still worked. Ivy sorted through a box of ornaments and smiled brightly when she untangled a string of sparkly gold menorahs. She held them up. “Caleb! Look what I found!”
The man in question laughed. “I forgot about those.”
While Ivy untangled the menorahs, I strung the tree with lights. “I need to speak with Nessa. We have plans Sunday I need to cancel, but I don’t know what to say.”
A quiet smile grew on Ivy’s mouth. “I’m thinkin’ the truth might be good, but it’ll raise a few feathers.”
“I can’t tell her the truth,” I said, appalled at the thought.
She eyed me. “Why not?”
“I—just can’t.”
Ivy made no comment, and we continued decorating. Eventually, she went back to her chatter, which I finally realized was her attempt to distract me.
Bless this woman.
At lunchtime, I took my phone to the chilly alley behind the distillery and made the call.
“Shay, darling!” Nessa said after three rings. “What a pleasure to hear from you.”
“Hi, Mrs. Shepherd—”
“Nessa.”
“Nessa,” I said, digging my fingers into my closed eyes.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“I was just calling about our tea on Sunday.”
“Oh?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I have to cancel it. Something’s come up.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” True disappointment tinged her tone. “Is there perhaps another time that would work better for you?”
I leaned my forehead against the cold brick. “Um. I’m not sure right now. Can I get back to you?”
“Of course, dear. I look forward to hearing from you.”
“Yeah.”
A silence expanded, and I curled an arm about my waist, feeling like I should say more since I’d likely never speak to her again.
“Mrs. Shepherd?”
“Nessa, darling. Please call me Nessa.”
