Page 13 of Christmas Treasures (Sugarville Grove #6)

MAX

O n the way into town, Max and Charlie had agreed to start their shopping day at Willow & Fern, Ivy’s home furnishing shop across from Clever Fox Books.

He parked on the street and soon they were headed inside, a jingle of sleigh bells above the door welcoming them.

He loved the smell of the place this time of year, breathing in the scent of clove-studded oranges.

Twinkle lights sparkled from evergreen garlands strung across shelves, and snow-dusted wreaths lined the front windows, and a fir tree displayed ornaments for sale.

Charlie stepped in behind him, her coat tucked neatly over one arm. “I love this place.”

“I haven’t been in here often,” Max said.

“Ivy helped me decorate my house after the remodel. Do you know her?”

“Yes, we went to school together.” Ivy MacRae had grown up in Sugarville Grove and went to a design school in Boston on a scholarship.

She returned to town about the same time as Max and opened her own shop and design business.

He didn’t know her well, but what he remembered of Ivy was a sweet, quirky personality.

A free spirit. Artistic and sensitive. She’d designed the sets for all the high school plays when they were students.

The shop immediately calmed his nerves. Creamy wool blankets were folded into baskets, oversize lanterns glowed on the floor, and clusters of candlesticks and hand-thrown pottery ran down the center of a long wooden display table.

At the back, a vintage bed was made up in pale linen and yellow floral prints, surrounded by shelves of framed art and paper star lanterns.

A rustle from behind a display of handmade wreaths revealed the shop owner herself. Ivy emerged, smiling brightly, her wild auburn curls caught up in a plaid ribbon, cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Oh my goodness, Charlie, it’s so good to see you.” Ivy wiped her hands on her linen apron.

“It’s good to see you too,” Charlie said.

“And Max, how are you?” Ivy asked. “I haven’t seen you much. Is the store busy?”

“I’ve been good, and yes, thankfully, the store’s been busy,” Max said. “And I have a big task for you today. I’m about to welcome an eight-year-old little girl into my home, and I want to put together a bedroom for her.”

Ivy clasped her hands together. “How wonderful. And you’ve brought Charlie to help. Good choice. She has exquisite taste.” Ivy sent a knowing glance at Charlie.

“We had fun putting my place together,” Charlie said. “But mostly it was Ivy with the exquisite taste.”

“Thank you. You give me too much credit. But I would love to help.” Ivy waved them toward a long wooden worktable scattered with fabric swatches, color samples, and notepads. “Come sit. Tell me everything about this little one.”

Max sat down, feeling out of place. “The thing is—I don’t know her well. She’s the daughter of a good friend of mine from Italy, and she’s coming to live with me permanently.” He didn’t know how to explain the situation succinctly.

Charlie stepped in to help. “Bianca’s recently lost her grandmother and is now coming to live with Max. She’s grown up in Italy, so this is going to be a big change for her.”

“Okay, no problem. We can figure this out,” Ivy said. “Max, I like to start with narrowing down the essence of a person and designing their spaces accordingly. What do you know about her?”

“I haven’t seen her since she was five, but I know her favorite color is yellow.”

“What did she like to do?” Ivy asked.

“Let me think.” Max closed his eyes, hoping to recall something he’d forgotten or set aside as unimportant. An image of a five-year-old Bianca running through a field of sunflowers came to mind. Guarda, Max! Girasoli! Sono gigaaaanti!

She had twirled around, arm outstretched in the middle of a row. Sembrano felici, come se stessero ballando col sole.

He’d asked Lucia what she’d said, and she’d translated: They look happy, like they’re dancing with the sun.

Another image surfaced. Bianca curled up in the window seat at the trattoria with her black cat.

“She loved sunflowers,” Max said, opening his eyes.

“We took her to a field of them one day, and from then on, she was always drawing them. And she loved this old cat that belonged to the trattoria.” He suddenly remembered her dancing in a pink leotard and tutu. “And ballet, I think.”

“A sunflower theme?” Ivy’s eyes lit up as she reached for a sketchpad. “Okay. Sunflowers. Yellow is her favorite color. She had a beloved cat and once loved ballet. We can work with all of that.”

Charlie leaned in beside Max, her tone thoughtful. “She’ll need comfort. Familiar things. But also wonder. Something that makes her feel safe and special.”

Ivy scribbled notes with a pencil tucked behind her ear. “Let’s build a palette—sunny yellows, creamy whites, maybe soft blush or lavender for contrast.” She stood and crossed to a nearby cabinet, riffling through drawers. “I have the perfect bedding.”

Within moments, she returned with a buttery yellow quilt patterned in delicate sunflowers, its stitching so fine it almost shimmered.

“This just came in last week. Hand-stitched from an artisan in Vermont.” She held it out toward Max. “Too much?”

Max brushed his hand over the fabric. “No. It’s perfect.” He looked at Charlie. “Do you agree, or am I all off here?”

“I love it,” Charlie said.

Ivy grinned and turned to Charlie. “Now, what do you think about layering this over a white ruffled duvet with little embroidered bees?”

Charlie’s eyes sparkled. “You know my affinity for bees, but Max, do you think she would like that?”

“Who doesn’t like bees?” Max asked. “I mean, they make honey.”

Ivy grabbed more swatches. “We’ll do gauzy curtains in yellow and white, maybe a sunflower wall decal above the bed.

I have a sunflower rug in the back room that I ordered for another client, but they didn’t like it, so I was going to send it back.

I think it’s fate. And we can find some frames to put in photos of her family. ”

Max swallowed, overwhelmed by the enormity of what he was about to do. Or try to do. “I don’t know what photos she’ll bring with her, but I have some on my phone of her mom.”

Ivy’s eyes softened. “She lost her mom too? ”

“That’s right. Lucia was a special friend of mine. She died of cancer when Bianca was five.”

“Oh, how sad. And now her grandmother?” Ivy asked. “We absolutely have to make this room perfect.”

Charlie nudged his arm gently. “I knew this was a great place to start.”

“And what about a reading nook?” Ivy asked. “We could find a little chaise or armchair and stack a few shelves with books.”

“She used to sit in a window seat back at the trattoria,” Max said. “This old tuxedo cat just showed up one day, and Lucia let it stay at the trattoria. Bianca loved to curl up with the cat and a book while everything bustled around her.”

“You can find a stuffed one over at the store,” Ivy said. “One she can hug at night.”

“What about a bed frame?” Ivy asked. “And a dresser?”

“We need both of those,” Max said. “Don’t we?” Actually, he had no idea.

“I was thinking creamy white?” Charlie said. “But how fast could we get a whole set?”

“This is weird, but I just got a load of kid’s bedroom furniture from a client who didn’t need them any longer.

Dresser, bed frame, nightstand, and a set of shelves.

They’re high quality. But they need sanding and painting.

I was going to do the work myself, but there’s no way I could do them in time. ”

“My dad and I can handle that,” Max said. Finally, something he could do that felt comfortable. The Hayes men had refinished a lot of furniture over the years.

“Really? That’s great.” Ivy grinned. “I could use you two around here more often.”

“We can throw them in the back of my SUV,” Max said. “I’ll take them out to my folks’ place this afternoon.”

Ivy made a pretend check mark in the air. “Done. ”

Charlie tilted her head, clearly thinking. “Do you have any of those mini chandeliers for a bit of sparkle? I saw one in a magazine article recently.”

Ivy tapped her pen against her chin. “I don’t have one in stock, but I can order it and have it here by Tuesday. The one I’m thinking of has crystal beads and brass details. Just the right amount of fancy. What do you think?”

“Yes, this gives us enough time before she arrives,” Max said.

“This might be the fastest design job I’ve ever done,” Ivy said. “But don’t worry. I’ll come out and help you both put it all together.”

“Bless you, Ivy MacRae,” Max said.

As Ivy bustled around the shop gathering everything, Max enjoyed watching Charlie.

She was completely in her element, flipping through pillow samples, considering textures.

This was unexpected. That’s what he was starting to realize about Charlie.

She was layered and complex. Perhaps too much for someone as uncomplicated as himself.

He was the class clown back in school, compensating for his lack of academic ability by making everyone laugh.

He could imagine Charlie as the opposite.

Serious and studious, sitting in the front row soaking up knowledge.

Ivy returned from the back of the shop with her arms full—fabrics draped over one elbow, a lamp in the crook of the other, a woven basket hooked onto her wrist, and a pillow with “Bee Yourself” embroidered into the surface and another in the shape of a sunflower.

Ivy dropped everything onto the worktable and started arranging it all. “Tell me if this feels right.”

Max stepped closer, as did Charlie, who immediately reached for the sunflower pillow. It was round and plush, its velvet petals a buttery yellow, with a warm brown corduroy center .

“This is adorable,” Charlie said, hugging it to her chest.

“That’s one of my favorites,” Ivy said. “I had it custom-made for a window display and couldn’t bear to sell it. But I think it belongs in Bianca’s room. Meant to be, right?”

“No other explanation,” Charlie said, smiling.