She couldn’t let Lydia get to he
r. She had a show to do tonight and she needed to focus on her music, not on what Blake might or might not be doing while she was onstage.
“Ivy,” Miss Adelia said as she came into the room with Winston in tow. “It’s good of you to wait. I had to get Winston to help me get the jacket out of the attic.”
“It’s not a problem,” Ivy said, standing to greet her. “Lydia let me in.”
Miss Adelia narrowed her eyes at Ivy for a moment, then gestured for Winston to give her the coat and let them speak privately. “That was thoughtful of her,” she said cautiously. “I thought Hazel might answer, since she actually lives here. Of course, Lydia has been to the house so often, it’s almost as if she does. Sometimes I think she’s eyeing the de´cor as though she’s planning how she’ll change it.”
“I don’t know why she would change a thing. It’s a lovely home.” Ivy tried to shrug off the awkward encounter with Lydia. “I see you found the jacket,” she said.
“Yes. It might smell a touch like cedar and mothballs, but it’s in good shape.” Adelia rounded her desk and laid the jacket across the blotter.
It was Blake’s letterman jacket from high school. Ivy didn’t know how many times she’d worn that coat while they were together. She was always cold at school. She reached out and ran her arms over the red fabric and white leather. The name Chamberlain was stitched across the shoulders in white with the school’s panther logo beneath it.
“Kevin thought I should wear this jacket for the finale. I’m debuting a new song.”
“Is it about Blake?” Miss Adelia asked with a sly smile.
“Yes, but it’s a nice song this time.”
Miss Adelia smiled and patted the jacket. “You’re welcome to use it. And give it to Blake when you’re done. I certainly don’t need it here. It seems like all the children leave their junk behind when they go. Oh,” she added, picking up a smaller, fabric-covered box on the edge of her desk. “Here are some photos, too. Kevin asked if I had any they could use in the show.”
Ivy draped the jacket over her arm and picked up the box of pictures. “Will you be at the show tonight?”
“Heavens, no. I’m sure it will be lovely, but that’s just not my cup of tea.” She placed her hand on Ivy’s shoulder and smiled. “I hope everything goes well tonight. I think bringing you and Blake together for the fund-raiser was a stroke of genius on my part.”
Ivy smiled and nodded, although it seemed an odd thing to specifically mention bringing them together for the fund-raiser itself. Not that she was pleased she had reunited them. Or that she was happy they were dating. It took her a moment to figure out why it bothered her—Lydia’s taunt at the dance about how Miss Adelia had fixed them up for the fund-raiser to earn more money. She had called and personally requested Ivy, so that, at least, was true. Whether she was forcing Blake to be with Ivy while he secretly dated Lydia was another matter.
Damn Lydia for being able to get her wound up about nothing.
Miss Adelia looked down at a large open envelope on her desk and placed her hand on top of it. “You remember the chat we had over tea, don’t you, Ivy?”
“Of course.” How could she forget? It had been an eye-opening discussion.
“Then you remember what I said about not letting anyone interfere with what you want.” Her sharp gaze looked meaningfully into Ivy’s.
“Yes, ma’am.” And she was right. She couldn’t let Lydia manipulate her and ruin what she had with Blake. She wouldn’t. “Good. Now, I am very confident that things are going to go well this evening and I don’t anticipate any more problems for you and Blake. But if anything were to happen tonight, you feel free to tell me, please. I will handle it. Sometimes ladies like us need help, but we’re too stubborn to ask for it.”
Ivy looked down at the desk and the envelope Miss Adelia was idly tapping with her fingernails. What was she alluding to? And what did that envelope have to do with it? “Yes, ma’am.”
“Excellent. I’m sure you need to be on your way, then.” Miss Adelia walked her to the front door and waved at Ivy as she got into her car. “Good luck tonight.”
Ivy smiled and waved back, but as she drove the long, winding road back into town, she couldn’t shake the ominous thought that she might need it.
Blake might very well be the luckiest guy on the planet. From the edge of the stage, he could see out into the sea of people who had swarmed into Rosewood for this concert. He had no doubt the school would have a state-of-the-art gym and athletic facility in no time.
But even if he taught in a mud hut, he’d still be blessed because the woman out on that stage—the one who drew thousands of cheering fans—was all his.
Last night, she’d left the game with him. The Buckmans had opened up Scoops so the whole team could have an after-hours ice cream party. She’d mingled with the players like a pro, laughing, praising them, and tapping their egos down if they got a little too big. His team was a part of his family, and he was grateful that Ivy seemed to fit in so seamlessly as well.
Now he watched her perform onstage with a sense of awe. The crowd sang along with every song. She was beautiful, talented, funny, smart . . . Not everything in his life had gone to plan, but if he had anything to say about it, he would have Ivy by his side for a very long time.
The distance would suck, but it would be inevitable at first. Once she got her album done, perhaps she could spend time in Rosewood, jetting back and forth for promotional events. And maybe during the spring and early summer, when football took a backseat until training camp, he could spend time in California. Or New York. Or Dubai—hell, he didn’t care.
It was like he was riding high on a wave of adrenaline every time he was near her. Touching her was like scoring the game-winning touchdown in overtime. He couldn’t wait for the show to end. He knew exactly what he was going to do. The minute she stepped off stage, he was going to scoop her into his arms and kiss the daylights out of her, just like she’d done to him after the game.
And once all her obligations for the night were done, he was taking her back to his place for a private concert.