Page 38 of Holly versus Mr. Ivy
Hollylikedme? Well, what do you know. My magic had worked. Or maybe it was just my persistent charm. A river of warmth swam around my chest. Just call me the grump-whisperer. I pulled up my text app, clicking on Jack’s last message.
Jack:NO. Don’t even think about it. When you come over Friday morning, I’m making sure that photo is nowhere on your phone or cloud. Understood?
Rhett:It’s like you don’t trust me or something.
Jack:RHETT!
A satisfied grin came over me. I easily pictured the way Jack said my name. It was the same frustrated tone he’d used often throughout our friendship.
Rhett:Relax. You know I’d never do you dirty like that. I’ll see you Friday morning, and maybe you’ll update me on your next steps?
Jack:Maybe.
“Your order’s ready.”
I slipped my phone in my suit jacket pocket and grabbed the two boxes of pastries. A small box, containing a single donut, was piled on top. That must be Holly’s. Noah was nice to keep hers separate from the rest.
“Thanks, guys.”
“See you at Deidre’s!” Noah hollered with a wave.
Yes. Yes, he would. I don’t know what it was about Holly or her family, but something pulled me to them, begging me to insert myself into their life. I wasn’t certain about the reasoning, except for that feeling in my gut that hadn’t let me down in my life so far. I planned to keep following it, no matter where it led.
Chapter 16
Holly
Mystomachhadtieditself into knots since Tuesday morning. First, it was stress over coming up with a new menu. I had a few recipes I’d held onto from my pre-Mom’s-illness exploratory phase that I’d forgotten about until Monday night. But no one liked them. My chefs and I went back and forth forhoursdeciding what the new menu should be.
I still preferred to test each item before officially adding it to the menu, but the chefs and Rhett all agreed the new selections would be better than the rarely ordered offerings we had now. The Monday the week of Thanksgiving, the new menus would arrive, and hopefully people would order and like what we’d come up with. If not, we’d just wasted a ton of time and money, which would not help us reach our goal.
Once we settled the food, my stomach decided to take on the next worry plaguing me: firing Darby and Josh. I’d eaten hardly anything except toast and tea the past two days because my nerves were doing a number on my digestive system. I’d gone through way too much toilet paper lately.
As I sat in my office, my hands went clammy and my stomach clenched. Rhett should be here any minute. Originally, I’d said I could handle letting Darby and Josh go on my own. That I wanted Rhett in the room, but would do all the talking. At this point, I’d be lucky to even get a word out past my constricted throat.
I jerked my head up at the sound of knuckles tapping against my office door and looked up to see Rhett, who held a small bouquet of cream, rust, and gold dahlias, ranunculus blossoms, and aster flowers.
I tipped my head to the side. “Who are those for?”
Rhett stepped fully into my office, placing the vase tied with cream and burlap ribbon on my desk. “You. I figured with everything going on today, you could use some preemptive cheering up.”
Warmth oozed from my chest and seeped down to my toes. He’d already brought me (well, the staff) donuts, and now flowers? I loved my friends, but I never gave them this many presents. “Is your love language gift-giving?”
Wrinkles creased Rhett’s forehead. “My what, now?”
Heat seared across my face and neck. “I didn’t mean to say you loveme,“ I squeaked. “I was referring to…you know what”—I waved a hand in front of my face—“just pretend I didn’t say any of that. Thank you. That was very kind of you.”
He eyed me with furrowed brows. “Are you okay?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I’m super nervous.”
“I know.” He sighed. “I’m not looking forward to today’s meetings either. But I’m here. I’ll do whatever you need me to, okay?”
I stared at my keyboard, noting the glossy spots where my thumbs tapped the spacebar. “I feel like I should be strong enough to do this, but I’m chickening out. Sorry for asking you to be the bad guy, but will you do it? Will you tell Josh and Darby they’re being let go?”
Rhett sat, one ankle resting on his opposite knee. “Yes. And don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing to do it.”
“You don’t think less of me for not scrounging up the courage?” A part of me was upset with myself for not being able to set my feelings aside and do what needed to be done. It further proved I sucked at being a manager. Letting these two employees go was for the better. I knew that. I truly did. So why did the act of firing them sting?
