Page 61 of The Magical Tea Shop

“Did you check with Kate, the new owner of the Hazard Inn? She has lots of downstairs space she might rent out if she only plans to have hotel rooms on the higher floors. Do you foresee relocating your business?”

“Well, we don’t have much choice, do we? What with all the changes, I’m keeping my options open. You never know with a new landlord.”

Lydia was nodding sagely.

“New landlord?” Ivy said to Cece, and glanced at Jaxon.Why did he act guilty?“What are they talking about?”

“Jaxon is selling the building, dear.” Lydia spoke with clear condemnation.

“Haven’t you told her, yet?” said Cece, in amazement. “Really, Jax, bad form.”

“What are they talking about?” Ivy repeated at Jaxon, who shifted backwards, farther from her.

As if swallowing bile, his words came out choked. “I’m…selling the building.”

Ivy took a step toward him. “We negotiated a new lease. Why didn’t you say something? Wait, does everyone know except me?”

He shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”

Cece tsked.

Dart walked up. “When does your cool new job start in Boston, Jax? Great opportunity. I know how you can’t wait to leave, but I’ll sure miss seeing you walk that cute little dog. You’ve been a great neighbor. Sorry to see you go.”

“Go?” Ivy repeated, feeling stupid and out of step.Did everyone know Jaxon was leaving except for her?

“Does Holly know?” she asked the room.

At Jaxon’s chagrined expression, she pushed off from him. She needed to get away. Somewhere she could think.

Everything she’d accomplished paled if Jaxon left. If she had to move her successful tea shop, her uptick in business was for nothing. A rent increase to more than she could afford would drive her out of the town square, causing her business to drop off. She depended on walk-ins. Even if the new landlord honored her newly negotiated lease, and there was no guarantee of that, a year might not be enough to make relocating feasible. She’d invested so much money into decorating her current location. She’d been building her business, or thought she had. And now?

Really, what had she accomplished?

Jaxon had betrayed her. His dishonestly sabotaged her career.

“Why? Why couldn’t you have told me?”

Holly popped in, and Ivy turned her ire on her sister. “You knew. All this time, you all knew he was leaving, and no one said a word to me.”

The perfidy was too much. It was the story of her life—Ivy Wayland, always the last to know.

“Yes, well, it was Jaxon’s place to say something, wasn’t it?” Holly huffed. “You might as well give him that latest batch of theVery Special Cookiesyou baked as a going away present.”

“Ha, you didn’t,” said Lydia in horror. “After we told you it was unwise?”

“Cookies?” said Jaxon, brow furrowed.

The mere thought of giving the man she loved her Very Special Cookiesnowafter his betrayal was too much. Ivy balked. Giving magic cookies to a man who kept relevant truths was abhorrent. He didn’t deserve them. He didn’t deserve her.

The mere idea of him enjoying her magic cookies, inspiring his devotion, made heat rise in her cheeks. She didn’t want devotion. She had the devotion of half the town. From Jaxon, she craved honesty, forthrightness, to be included in what he was willing to tell everyone but her.

Ivy fled.

In the foyer, she gripped the shiny brass doorknob on the towering front door, to jerk it wide, but it held. She tugged again and again, leaning her weight back, but it would only move an inch before slamming back closed, the wind from outside holding it shut, even as she struggled.

“Please,” she murmured, “please, let me escape.” The wind dropped. She flung the door wide, tripping backward as it slammed against the wall. Ivy dashed outside, air currents enveloping her, embracing her, hustling her down stone steps, past flowerpots, toward the towering shrubbery, urging her along, faster, faster, faster. She stumbled into the shade of the oleanders and stopped, breathless, nearly sobbing, to hide in the shadows.

Raindrops splattered, just a bit at first, small ones growing until they were plopping and splashing all around. Rain, promised by that red morning sky, arrived. It expanded, wind gusting its torrents. Ivy could hear the guests squealing at the sudden onslaught and scrambling for cover as the first Annual Hazard Historical Society Fundraiser came to an abrupt halt due to rain.

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