Page 2 of Welcome Home to Ivy Falls (Ivy Falls #3)

Since we were little girls playing dress-up and having imaginary tea parties, Maisey has had the keen ability to read my mind, understand my inner turmoil. It was unnerving at times.

‘Yes. I’ve been saving up for a while, and I’m still getting money from the trust my parents left for me.’

She swirled the straw around in her drink while I went back to washing glasses. ‘Joe’s boss renovated those two apartments above the law practice to bring in extra income. I could ask what the rent’s like.’

‘That would be great.’

She tapped her fingers against the counter. Took another gulp of tea. ‘I know I say this a lot, but I’m so glad you’re home,’ she sniffled.

‘Don’t get all weepy, Maise. I swear I’m not going anywhere.’

‘I know.’ She wiped at her cheeks. ‘Sorry. I’m exhausted because my body hasn’t quite figured out how to deal with the kids not sleeping in the afternoon.’

She took another long pull on her drink, draining it down to the bottom again.

‘Want another?’

‘Sure. I’m going to take my time before I have to go home.’

Silvio called to me across the room and pointed to his empty glass. As I started another drink for him, Old Mrs Vanderpool rushed to the counter.

‘Piper, can you please make that a decaf? Dr Sheridan says Silvio needs to cut down on caffeine because of his high blood pressure.’

‘Don’t you think he’ll notice?’ I said.

She gave a lazy wave. ‘He likes the foam and sugar more than the caffeine.’

Maisey chuckled as I agreed to the request.

Old Mrs V hovered near the bar, her lips twitching like she had more to say. ‘You going to see Miss Cheri this week?’

‘Yes, but I’d bet ten bucks you already knew that.’

That made Maisey chuckle again.

‘Well, good,’ Old Mrs V said gruffly. ‘You be sure to tell her your thoughts. How you can bring a fresh set of ideas to the show.’

Ever since I’d expressed interest in the volunteer director position for the theater’s upcoming production of Mary Poppins Jr .

, Miss Cheri, who managed the theater, and Old Mrs Vanderpool had been hounding me about it.

When I first came back to Ivy Falls after rehab, people gave me those lingering, worried stares.

Nothing was a secret here. Pretty much everyone knew I’d been the cause of the destruction of the Huckleberry Lane house, which almost cost Torran, Beck and Manny everything.

Old Mrs Vanderpool never gave me those judgy looks though. Instead she quizzed me about my jobs, and later about my interest in the theater, even commenting on how she’d loved the shows I’d been in as a child.

She leaned in as if her authoritarian voice could somehow be contained. ‘You’ve got this, hon. I see something special in you. The town will soon see it too.’

Maisey nodded along even as Old Mrs Vanderpool huffed at her eavesdropping.

‘Thank you,’ I said quietly. ‘Let’s just see how the meeting goes.’

She gave another quick glance in Silvio’s direction before scurrying back to her meeting.

‘Isn’t she laying it on a bit thick?’ Maisey said.

‘She was close to my parents when they lived here. Since I’ve been home, she’s been kind, like she thinks I need another person in my corner. Which is nice, because I’m pretty sure most of the ugly stares I got when I first came back have all but disappeared thanks to her.’

‘Yeah, I’d much rather have Old Mrs V in my corner than against me.’

‘That’s the truth. Remember how she practically ran that guy out of town when he said he wanted to start a nightclub inside the old knitting shop?’

‘That was one hell of a town council meeting. Never seen so many red faces and irritated stares in my life. Thought for sure Amos was going to launch himself over the council’s table and grab that guy by the lapels.’

I shook my head. Town meetings were notorious for being equal parts serious business and sideshow antics.

‘Oh, Amos would have if Deputy Ben hadn’t been giving the guy his own stare down,’ I said.

‘Old Mrs V was in rare form that night. I think it took two sentences about picketing and chaining herself to the door and that guy couldn’t get out of here quick enough.’

I smiled at the memory of her going toe to toe with the guy, her small, resolute chin tipped up as she traded barbs with him.

Silvio waved his mug at me again and I went back to working the espresso machine. As I grabbed the milk from the fridge, my gaze snagged on the cute guy with the sweet tea. He spent a lot of time scrolling on his phone and rubbing at the dark stubble on his chin.

Maisey followed my stare. ‘Guesses on what he does for a living?’

‘In that outfit, he’s either a car salesman or a realtor.’

‘Not with those shoes. They’re Berluti Oxfords. They cost twenty-five hundred bucks.’

I’d argue with anyone else about the price, but Maisey studied fashion design at UT Knoxville, and avidly followed the latest trends at New York and Paris fashion weeks. ‘Um, wow. Okay, then he’s a spy.’

‘Nope,’ she said with a pop. ‘James Bond couldn’t afford those babies on an MI6 salary.’

Just as I was about to suggest billionaire tech tycoon, the preteens came back toward the counter.

Their leader, Dex Swanson, was a head taller than most of them and had a talent for finding trouble.

More than once, Barb and Susan had to walk him out of Sugar Rush for shoving four donuts into his mouth at once and challenging other kids to do the same.

He raced around holding a young-adult book over his head and taunting a smaller blond-haired boy. ‘Mason likes to read about kissing!’

I grabbed Silvio’s drink and moved out from behind the bar.

Dex kept cackling and jumped on his skateboard, careening in my direction.

I spun away but not before he clipped the edge of my sneaker and I stumbled forward.

The glass mug flew out of my hand in a sharp arc, landing with a crack on the arm of the gray chair where the dark-haired guy sat.

Coffee showered the front of his blazer, soaking the crisp white shirt underneath.

‘Oh, shit. I’m so sorry!’

Old Mrs Vanderpool moved from her table, shaking a finger at Dex.

Penny came flying across the room. ‘Out, all of you! And don’t think I’m above ratting you out to your mother, Dexter Swanson!’ Like a bodyguard, she corralled all of the kids out the front door.

Maisey rushed me a handful of napkins. I patted at the man’s shirt and then lower to where his pants were soaked.

Olfactory fatigue reversed, because this guy reeked of vanilla latte.

He shuddered under my touch, and when I looked up he gave me a puzzled smile.

Yeah, maybe touching the zipper on a stranger’s wet pants is a bridge too far.

‘I got it,’ he said, taking the napkins from my hand. His fingers dragged over the top of my skin and my heart took off like a shot.

‘Let me grab you a wet rag,’ I sputtered.

‘It’s okay.’ He gave me an amused smile. Dabbed at his shirt, which was pointless, because he was drenched. ‘What do I owe you for the tea?’

‘Oh no. After this…’ I flung my hand out to the milky brown mess dripping off the chair. ‘It’s on the house.’

‘All right. Thank you.’ He shoved his wallet into his back pocket, a conflicted look crossing his face. ‘Maybe I’ll come back here again. It’s a nice place.’

‘Next time, I promise you won’t get a latte bath.’

The grin he gave me made my insides flare. ‘I’m counting on it, Piper.’

He left through the front door, and I scrambled around the chair to clean up the sticky mess. Maisey knelt beside me and sopped up the brown puddle with a rag.

‘Well, that was interesting,’ she said.

‘Yeah, those kids come in when they’re bored, but it’s the first time they’ve acted so out of control.’

‘I wasn’t talking about the kids.’

‘What do you mean?’

She inched back with wide eyes. ‘You didn’t notice?’

‘Notice what?’

‘If that guy’s a stranger, how did he know your name?’

I arched a brow. Pointed to the stitching on my apron.

‘Oh.’ She huffed out a laugh and went back to cleaning up.

Her question stayed with me though. There had been a soft, yet eager, look in his eyes. Like he had wanted to ask a question but was too afraid to speak another word.