Ivy couldn't wait to get home, go to bed and forget the night ever happened. Only it wasn't that easy. She couldn't sleep, the guilt kept gnawing at her. It was like something possessed her, the essence of her mother most likely. It was an out of body experience. She was watching herself, screaming at herself to just stop that torrent of insults. But she kept going. She was practically waiting for a presenter to come out and announce – 'And the award for completely humiliating Henry Mills goes to Ivy Belfrey!'

From: SeattleGirl67
To: TruestBeliever
Subject: Late-night introspection

'Do you ever feel you become the worst version of yourself? That a Pandora's Box of all the secret hateful parts - your arrogance, your spite, your condescension - has sprung open. Someone provokes you, and instead of just smiling and moving on, you zing them. Hello, it's Miss. Buttoned-up Bitch. I'm sure you have no idea what I'm talking about.'

From: TruestBeliever

To: SeattleGirl67
Subject: RE: Late-night introspection

'No, I know what you mean and I'm completely jealous. What happens to me when I'm provoked is that I get tongue-tied. My mind goes blank. Then... then I spend all night tossing and turning trying to figure out what I should have said. What should I have said, for example, to the bottom-dweller who recently belittled my existence is… Even now, days later, I can't figure it out. The most frustrating thing about the whole situation is that words are my livelihood, so to speak. I should be able to pull every word, nice or mean, from my sleeve. But instead I remain mute.'

From: SeattleGirl67

To: TruestBeliever
Subject: Re: RE: Late-night introspection

'Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could pass all my zingers to you and then I would never behave badly and you could behave badly all the time and we'd both be happy? But then, on the other hand, I must warn you that when you finally have the pleasure of saying the thing you mean to say the moment you mean to say it, guilt inevitably follows. So, once again the end result would be the same – a sleepless night. Do you think we should meet?'

Like spooked, Henry closed the laptop. Meet? She wanted to meet? He wanted as well, but should they? For the first time he felt like a truly horrible person, a cheater. He had Violet and a failing business and this person, whoever she was, had all the potential of being a life-changing force. It was scary, every change was. 'A hero is always brave, a hero does the scary thing' was somewhat of a saying of his pre-teen days. He would say it to his mom, Emma, whenever he thought she would give up and go back to Boston. He was a kid then, and this was real life. So, he did the cowardly, ungentlemanly thing and ignored the question. All the while, he was hoping he didn't just screw everything up.

Instead, Henry chose to fully focus on the business. He went to new suppliers, gave fliers that offered discounts. Exhausting at it was, it was more tiring to see Ivy Belfrey all the time. She seemed to be everywhere. On his way to work, in the store, the bank… like she moved into his street. She didn't, thank God, because she was definitively not the type of person who would get down from her ivory tower and join the commoners. Regardless of the walking nuisance in his life, his business was not looking up.

From: TruestBeliever
To: SeattleGirl67
Subject: Rain

'Rain always makes me nostalgic. Ever since I moved to Seattle, I guess. When I was a kid my mom and I would spend rainy evening such as this making her famous apple turnover. Over the years, as the family grew, we added hot chocolate with cinnamon to the tradition. I suppose I miss them now more than before since I desperately need their comfort. I need to feel that family atmosphere and hear that everything that's going badly in my life will sort itself out.'

He didn't expect a reply after ignoring her for days but after only two minutes, there it was.

From: SeattleGirl67
To: TruestBeliever
Subject: RE: Rain

'I sensed you'd be online. It sounds like you need some advice. Can I help?'

So, they started chatting. They chatted once, maybe twice. It was always a mail with a response hours or even days apart.

- Can you help? I wish you could.

- I can give you advice. I am great at advice (and sarcastic comments, if need be :)). Is it about love?

- No. My business is in trouble.

- Well, my friend, you have come to the right person. I'm a brilliant businesswoman. It's what I am best at. What's your business?

- We said no specifics, remember?

- That complicates things, but minus specifics, I can say – 'Feelings never do make sense. They get you all confused. Then they drive you around for hours before they drop you right back where you started.' to quote Blair Waldorf.

- What?! I am set to a new course of my life based on a quote from some lame teenage show?

- It wasn't that bad! There were moments… the point is that every fashion icon, fictional or real, is worth listening to. So, forget the feelings and fight. Repeat to yourself – it's not personal, it's business. Oh, and speaking of fashion icons – here's a Prada for you. 'What you wear is how you present yourself to the world, especially today, when human contacts are so quick. Fashion is instant language.'

Henry chuckled. Then the keys jiggled and he logged off.

"Violet!" he called.

"Yeah? I got dinner. From that Chinese place we like."

"Great. I've been thinking. I've decided to fight. Do you think it would be a conflict of interest to get someone to write about the store?"

"Not at all." she sat next to him, "I know a guy."

"A guy?"

"Yes, a guy. We met him at the party then you went for a drink and didn't return."

"Oh, that guy." he wasn't quite sure what guy but it didn't matter. He was starting a new operation and he had to pick a good name.

"'Save 'The Enchanted Forest' and you will save your soul' I mean who writes like that?! It's idiotic." Ivy threw her phone. It bounced off the cushion and fell on the ground. The whole thing started small on some blog, and now it's gone viral.

"It beats 'one, two, three, four we don't want this superstore'."

"Oh, don't get me started on the protesters…" she turned up the volume on TV. Henry Mills was speaking.

"Do you want Hyperion Heights to become one big strip mall?"

"No!" the crowd answered.

"Can we save 'The Enchanted Forest'?"

"Yes!"

Then the montage changed to the interview. The reporter was practically swooning over him. When the hell did that happen? And why was he wearing a tie?

"They have discounts and coffee because people who work there have never read a book."

"He is not as nice as seems on TV." Ivy shared.

As the reporter was delivering the rest of the sap story with Ivy as the face of the villainous superstore, Anastasia commented, "Probably not as handsome as well?"

"I wish. But that doesn't change the fact he's a pain in my neck."

"He has to be. You're sending his ass, cute as well I suppose, to the unemployment bureau."

"I'm sorry but have you met our mother?" Ivy glared at her, "Anyway, it's not personal."

"If you say so."

Now Ivy's face showed up on the television screen, "Now look at me! I was the epitome of poise and eloquence. Listen."

"I sell cheap books. I do. So sue me."

And then nothing. The report ended. They moved on to sport.

Ivy barely registered Anastasia's ill-concealed giggle. What?! That bitch cut off her response completely. Her mother's caller ID popped on her phone. Her heart stopped. Her brain couldn't function for one thought consumed her. "Mother's gonna kill me."