Chasing Ivy (Oak Hill 1)

Abigail was probably the only other person in the office other than my boss, Mr. Daniels, who had actually tried to be friendly with me. The tellers—they weren’t so thrilled with me getting this job over them. Seniority and all.

I get it.

But I was also really good at my job, so whatever.

“So, The Hawk is coming in for a meeting with you.”

I crinkled my brow, looking around my small, 5 x 8 room. “Who is The Hawk? I don’t know codenames yet.”

She groaned through the phone. “Her name is Debbie Connors. I don’t really know much about her since I only moved here a year ago with Chase, but her husband owns the real big dealership in town, and she’s such a pain to work with. Like, seriously, even Mr. Daniels avoids her.”

The only words I heard Abigail say were “Debbie Connors” and “dealership.”

“She’s coming, like, now, so get your freaking game face on.”

“Hah,” I mumbled. “Thanks for the heads up.”

If anything, I didn’t need my game face – I needed a freaking shield and sword.

This couldn’t be a coincidence. The pit deep within my stomach from the little intel I’d gotten from Mia and Dawson last night, referring to Breanna’s mom working at St. Joseph’s, was growing even larger.

I swallowed, evening my breathing and cracking my neck a few times. This was going to take every ounce of energy out of my very, very tired body to play nice with her.

Every little jab she’d said to my parents when I was younger was flipping through my mind like the pages of a text book. Every glare and roll of her eyes when my parents would walk into a sporting event for me flared over my skin.

I thought I hated Breanna, but it turns out, I really just hated her mother.

My door opened with a cheerful-looking Abigail, red hair pulled into a low pony. “Ivy, Mrs. Connors is here to speak with you regarding some of her and her husband’s accounts.”

Slowly, I stood up from my chair, taking my hands and smoothing my dress down the front of my legs. “Ah, yes, thank you.”

And then… she walks in.

I had a momentary lapse of time where I traveled back to the past and pretended that I was sick this morning, calling off work, so I could avoid my current situation. I would have stayed in bed all day and convinced Dawson to do the same. He would have made me a big breakfast in bed, and then we would have had each other for a lunch. It would have been perfect.

But, here I am, in this tiny office, smelling of more flowers from my ex-boyfriend, whom I still had not talked to, a fake smile plastered on my face staring at Breanna’s mother.

I wonder if she knows.

Probably.

“It’s so good to see you, Mrs. Connors,” I said with as much excitement as I could muster up. Which wasn’t much, let me tell you.

“Hello, Ivy dear.”

“Please sit.” I ushered her to the chair furthest away from the door; that way if I had to escape, she couldn’t trip me on my run out the door.

“Thanks, Abigail,” I said, glancing at my coworker. She made sure Mrs. Connor’s back was turned before rolling her eyes and mouthing, “Good luck.”

I held back a snort.

“So, if you just give me a quick second,” I intoned, moving back behind my desk and sitting down on my comfy chair, “I’ll pull up your accounts. Is this regarding the dealership or your personal accounts?”

Her voice was like ice being flicked at my forehead. “There’s no need for that.” Her sentence was blunt and to the point. I slowly peeled my eyes away from the computer, heart thumping with anger.

“And why’s that?”

Mrs. Connors and her stupid, bleach-blonde hair pulled into a stupid, tight bun on the top of her head, with her stupid, matte lipstick and matching shirt, sat back in her chair, her shoulders pulled back and a conniving grin on her face.