“I THOUGHT YOU needed to sell the house,” Bennett said, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
“What I need is income.” Ivy felt dazed at the decision she’d just made to move into the house. Ideas were whizzing through her mind like comets, and she hadn’t felt this alive in a long time. Maybe that’s why her pulse kicked up a notch every time he spoke.
Ivy gave him a dismissive smile. “Thank you, Bennett, but we’ll call a ride.” She drew her phone from her purse. She had just enough battery power left. She tapped a ride-share app that she’d used from the airport. There was a car two minutes away. Perfect. Two minutes and she’d never have to see Bennett again.
He stood gaping at her. “If you can’t afford the upkeep, why would you move in?”
“Why not? Looks like a good cleaning and a few plants are all it needs. We can do that.” Ivy could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth, but after she’d spoken, the idea sounded entirely plausible to her. Why was she paying rent to crowd herself into a professor’s extra bedroom when she owned all this lovely space? “I’m taking Las Brisas off the market.”
Shelly stared at her with rounded eyes. “I thought you needed to sell the house to pay the property taxes. And buy your condo.”
“Bennett couldn’t sell it, and he doesn’t think it’s going to sell anytime soon,” Ivy said, anxious to get on with her plan. “As for the tax situation, I have other ideas.”
Shaking his head, Bennett dropped the keys into Ivy’s outstretched hand and shoved on his sunglasses. “Call me when you change your mind.”
“I won’t.” Ivy spied their ride-share car easing to the curb. “But thank you for everything.” Eager to leave, she rushed to the car and slid into the back seat. Shelly followed her.
Bennett swung into his SUV and left.
Sighing with relief, Ivy watched his taillights dim in the review mirror before leaning toward the driver, a young man with an awkward cowlick who was nervously checking his phone. “Hi, we’re heading to—”
“No, you have to get out,” the young man cried. “My wife—she just went into labor. I’m sorry, call another ride. I have to go. We’re having a baby!”
“Okay,” Ivy said. She and Shelly slid out. “Hurry, but drive carefully,” she called back at the nervous young man.
“Are you feeling all right?” Shelly asked.
“Sure, why?”
“What’s this about moving into…what’s it called?”
“Las Brisas. Spanish for sea breezes.”
“That’s easier to remember,” Shelly said. “Like the cocktail. But are you serious?”
“I am.” Trying to regain her usual efficient balance, Ivy tapped her phone. “I’ll get another car.” Her phone blinked, then powered down. Pressing her fingers to her temple, she said, “Shelly, I need your phone. I forgot my portable charger.”
“Mine’s dead, too.” Shelly angled her head toward Bennett’s SUV, which was now a distant speck on the road. “And there goes our luggage. I could use one of those Sea Breezes now.”
Ivy smacked her forehead. “How could I have forgotten?” She was the Great Organizer, the one who remembered every detail, who’d packed a family of four for a month’s vacation on Nantucket and didn’t forget even a band-aid. “I just wanted to get away from Bennett.”
“I thought he was nice. What’s up with you two?”
“If you have to know, I used to have a crush on him. He surfed with a friend of mine one summer.”
“And?”
“And nothing.” Ivy shrugged. “I don’t think he ever knew I existed. Well, except for one time.” And that heartbreak had been her first, though nothing in comparison to her husband’s death. She shook her hair back. No, Bennett Dylan was nothing more than an irritant. And that’s all.
Shelly stared at her with an incredulous look on her face. “Twenty-five, almost thirty years ago, right?”
“About that.” Still, how could such old, forgotten emotions have lain dormant all these years?
Standing at the curb, Shelly spread her hands. “What’s gotten into you? You’re supposed to be the sane one.”
“And look where that’s gotten me.” Ivy plopped onto the low stone wall in front of the house. Looking up at the forlorn old house, she began laughing.
Shaking her head, Shelly sat next to her. “I think the champagne has gone to your head. Did you win the lottery? Because otherwise, I have no idea how you’re going to come up with the money for your property taxes.”
“I’ll figure it out.” Ivy pushed aside her thoughts of Bennett. Except for getting their luggage back, she was finished with him. She poked her sister in the ribs. “Come on, you can stay as long as you like. Tell Ezzra you’re helping me clean house.”
At the mention of Ezzra’s name, Shelly folded her arms. “That’s exactly what I need to do—starting with Ezzra. I’ve let this one-sided commitment go on far too long.”
Ivy slid her arm around her, thankful that Shelly was seeing the truth of her relationship with Ezzra now. “There’s the fearless girl I’ve always loved.”
Shelly tapped her forehead against Ivy’s. “What have I been afraid of for so long?”
“Being left alone. Same as me. But better to be alone than to be with someone who doesn’t respect you.” Ivy looped her arms around Shelly. “What made you change your mind?”
Sniffing, Shelly leaned against her. “You did. Seeing how independent you’ve become after Jeremy’s death—even when things didn’t go your way. You inspire me.” Her voice cracking, she added, “If you can overcome challenges on your own, so can I.”
“I’m not perfect.” Ivy dug a tissue packet from her purse and handed it to her sister.
“Perfect is overrated.” Shelly took a tissue out. “I just wanted to have a baby before it’s too late. Did you know that when women over thirty-five are pregnant, the medical community calls those geriatric pregnancies? I’m two years into my advanced maternal years. That’s scary.”
Shelly sniffled into the tissue. “Ezzra swore he wants a child, but every time we take a break from each other so he can be sure our future together is what he wants, he’s off chasing other women. I don’t think he’ll ever change.” Anger flashed in her eyes. “So in my advanced geriatric frame of mind, I’ve decided I’m over him.”
This time, Ivy didn’t offer any advice. Though she’d always seen Ezzra as self-absorbed, she’d thought he was what Shelly wanted. Now Ivy realized she should have spoken up more on Shelly’s behalf. Told her the truth as she saw it.
Running her hand over Shelly’s wavy hair, Ivy grew introspective. That goes for me, too. If she hadn’t relinquished her decision-making authority over their financial life to Jeremy, she wouldn’t be in this position now. He was a software engineer with an MBA; he was good with money—she’d had plenty of excuses, especially when the girls were young and she fell into bed exhausted every evening. Ivy blew out a breath. Spoiled as her daughter Sunny was, she’d had a point.
Shelly wiped her eyes. “You never liked Ezzra, did you?”
“I didn’t think he was right for you. But I supported your decision to be with him.”
“Next time, be honest with me.”
“I promise.” Ivy clasped Shelly’s hand. “As much as we like to support each other’s decisions, we also need to be honest with each other, especially when we see unfair or damaging behavior. Sometimes we miss obvious signs.” Maybe she had, too.
“It’s hard to see the truth with my heart-shaped love blinders on.” Shelly wiped her eyes.
How well Ivy understood that. There were only two men in her life that she’d ever fallen for—Bennett and Jeremy.
“It’s okay,” Ivy said. “The difference between us is that you just made an important decision to change your life. Mine was thrust on me.”
“But look at you now.” Shelly chuckled. “Making crazy decisions all by yourself. So, think you can spare a room here? I’m not quite as deft with a paintbrush as you are, but you should see me wield garden shears. I’m fierce against unruly nature.”
“I’d like to see that.” Ivy laughed and mussed Shelly’s hair, which had almost escaped its messy bun. “You’re on.”
Shelly glanced back at the sprawling old home. “So what’s your plan?”
“Besides teaching painting, I’d like to create serious work to sell. I’ve had a creative block—hardly a surprise—but I have some completed works I can ship out from storage. There are plenty of art fairs along the coast where I can show my work. Plus, I’ve fed and cleaned up after a family for years. How hard could it be to do that for strangers?”
When Shelly arched a questioning eyebrow at her, Ivy grinned. “We can rent out rooms. Run it as an inn. That’s where the money for the taxes will come from.” She pursed her lips. “I am not losing this house.”
Ivy stood up and stretched, feeling fresh energy flowing through her. Being decisive felt good. She didn’t need to ask anyone for permission. “Imagine the parties that were held here. It’s a spectacular venue for events.”
“Put me down for the flowers and decorations.”
“I was counting on it. I might even put to use the skills I learned in all those Sur La Table cooking classes Jeremy used to sign me up for.”
“Please, not the escargot again.” Shelly waved her hand in front of her mouth. “I was breathing fire for a week.”
“I’ve got reading glasses now. It won’t happen again.” She still didn’t like them, but she wore them to read. “I calculated the number of rooms by what I think we can get per night. The summer season here is crazy busy. I’m sure we can make enough to cover the taxes and utilities—with some profit left over. “Are you in?”
“Why not?” Shelly brightened and stuffed the tissue into her pocket. “Surely we can handle a few vacationers. Really, how hard could it be?”
“That’s the spirit. Let’s do this.” Ivy gripped Shelly’s hands. Soon they were whirling around in the front yard like they used to do as kids, screaming and laughing until they fell onto the sandy lawn. Living in the moment and tossing off the baggage they’d each been carrying for so long felt exhilarating.
Shelly landed on her back and flung her arms out. “You’re crazy, you know that? Mom would be so proud.”
“Mom! Oh, I forgot to call her.” Ivy scrambled up. “We’ve got to get back.”
“And get our luggage from Bennett.”
Ivy made a face. “That’s definitely your department.” She held out a hand to Shelly and pulled her up. “Looks like we’re walking.”
Shelly slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses. “We passed a coffee shop on the way. Java Beach. They must have a phone.”
As they ambled along the lane to the village, neighbors on porches waved to them, and people they passed said hello. After the harried bustle of Boston, Ivy welcomed the change of pace, though she knew that in less than six weeks, summer crowds would descend on Summer Beach.
She was betting on it.
“There’s Java Beach,” Shelly said as they neared the coffee shop they’d seen on the way in.
When they stepped into the coffee shop, heads swiveled toward them. Nautical nets were suspended from the ceiling, tiki torches anchored the counter, and vintage Polynesian travel posters of grass-skirted hula dancers covered the walls. Beach reggae played in the background, and the scent of roasted coffee and sweet pastries permeated the air.
An older woman in a gaudy rhinestone sun visor and dyed royal blue hair called out, “Mitch, you’ve got customers!”
A twenty-something man wearing flip-flops and a Hawaiian shirt pushed through a set of doors from the kitchen. “What’ll it be, ladies?” Mitch’s smile was warm and engaging, especially toward Shelly.
Ivy held up her phone. “I’ve got a dead battery. We’re stranded. May I use your phone?”
“Sure.” Mitch pulled his phone from his faded jeans. “What’s the number?”
“Um, I don’t remember,” Ivy said. “Our parents got a new phone number a few years ago, but it’s on my phone. Shelly?”
“Sorry, I never remember phone numbers anymore.”
Sheepishly, Ivy asked, “Do you have a phone charger?”
“Here you are.” Mitch brought one out from under the counter. “Charges are free. You two from around here?”
“We just flew in from Boston,” Ivy said. “And we’re moving into the old Erickson house.”
“Las Brisas.” Mitch let out a whistle. “You’re going to be busy.”
“Why do you say that?” Ivy asked.
“Place needs a lot of work. A real beauty, though.” He grinned at Shelly. “If you need help, I’m pretty handy.”
“We can’t afford much,” Ivy interjected. “We’d planned on doing most of the work ourselves.”
The woman with the rhinestone visor behind them spoke up, and her voice had a sharp edge to it now. “The new owner was trying to tear it down and build some fancy resort. Is that you?”
“No.” Ivy stiffened. “That was my husband.”
“Ladies, meet Darla,” Mitch said, amused at the interchange. “Your new neighbor.”
The woman stood and stalked over to them. Spangled necklaces around her neck jangled with each step. “You tell him that if one bulldozer crosses that property, we’ll stop it in its tracks, you hear me?” She jabbed a bejeweled finger at them. “We’re organized here, and we don’t stand for people thinking they can buy their way in and destroy our community. A high-rise resort, my eye,” she snorted. “This is Summer Beach, not Miami or New York City.”
“I didn’t come here to do that,” Ivy said evenly. “And my husband won’t either. He died last year.”
“Well, can’t say I’m sorry,” Darla huffed. “You better watch yourself in this town.”
“Hey, Darla,” Mitch cut in. “They’re new here. Give them a break, will you?” He turned back to them. “I’m really sorry to hear that. Coffee while you wait?” He poured two cups for them. “Medium roast. Sugar and cream behind you.”
“How much do I owe you?” Ivy asked, ignoring Darla.
Mitch shrugged off her question. “Welcome to Summer Beach. Most of us are pretty friendly.” He dropped his voice. “Even Darla, once you get to know her.” His eyes rested on Shelly again.
“I’ll pass,” Shelly said, turning her back to the woman.
“She’s still your neighbor,” Mitch said.
Shelly threw a look over her shoulder. “Clearly we’re not going to be best friends.”
“Just when I thought things were getting quiet around here.” Chuckling, Mitch nodded toward the deck, where rustic wooden beach loungers were facing the ocean, and the water lapped the shoreline. Beachgoers were strolling or lounging under umbrellas, and children were playing in the surf. “Nice view outside while you wait for the charge.”
Ivy dug out a couple of bills and dropped them into a tip jar that had a Jimmy Buffett Margaritaville sticker plastered to it. “Sounds like my husband made quite an impression here.”
“You might say Jeremy Marin brought the community together,” Mitch said.
Shelly cut in. “Against him, you mean.”
Mitch started to reply, but with a glance at Ivy, he changed his tone. “Awfully big place for one person. Do you have a large family?”
Ivy and Shelly exchanged glances. “We’re going to run it as an inn,” Ivy said. Might as well announce it. They’d need to turn a profit quickly, and word-of-mouth advertising was about all she could afford.
Darla narrowed her eyes. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”
A grin spread across Mitch’s face, and Ivy saw Shelly watching him with interest. “No doubt you’ll have some interesting guests. Tack a flyer on the community board over there. Everyone checks it out. Y’know, that’s a cool idea. Few people have enough room for all their friends that want to visit in the summer. You should be busy.”
“Thanks,” Ivy said. Mitch seemed kind, and he was a welcome change from Bennett.
The two sisters made their way outside and sat under a beach umbrella in a pair of beach loungers on the sand.
“Jeremy sure made a lot of enemies here,” Shelly said, sipping her coffee and surreptitiously watching Mitch inside.
“Another one of his messes to clean up.” Stirring her coffee, Ivy said, “What do you think he meant about interesting guests? Seemed like an odd comment.”
“Maybe this place attracts a lot of characters.”
“Guess so, if Darla and Bennett are examples.” Ivy gazed out over the ocean swells and watched the waves rushing the shoreline. “That house seems like a lightning rod for controversy in this town. Think I’m in over my head here?”
“I’ve watched you handle a lot worse,” Shelly said. “I have faith in you—and your crazy decision.” She chuckled. “I told you I’m in. Not changing your mind already, are you?”
“Course not.” Yet she had an odd feeling that there was more to Las Brisas than she knew.
A few minutes later, Mitch sauntered out to them holding her phone. “You’ve got a small charge now.” He handed it to her. “And here’s my card. I put my cell number on it if you need anything.”
Ivy noticed that Mitch gave his card to Shelly. She attracted men like stray puppy dogs. Mitch clearly liked Shelly, but he also looked a lot younger. Still, it was good to know someone other than Bennett here.
“Thanks,” Ivy said. “First, our luggage.” She tapped Bennett’s name and passed the phone to Shelly. “You’re on.”
Shelly took the phone from her while Ivy looked on. “It’s ringing…wait, what?” Shelly snapped the phone off. “He just sent it to voice mail.”
“Let me see about that.” Ivy pressed his number again. This time it went straight to voice mail. “What nerve.”
“Text him.”
Ivy punched in a message and sent it. She waited a minute, but there was no reply. “How unprofessional. What if I had changed my mind about re-listing the house?” Now, even if she decided to sell the house, Bennett Dylan would be the last person she’d call for assistance. What kind of real estate agent sends his clients to voice mail, declines their calls, and ignores their texts?
“The big question is, how will we get our luggage?”
Ivy flipped through his emails. “Here’s one with an address. But it’s just a post office box. Let’s try again tomorrow. We need to see Mom and Dad.” She opened her ride-share app to call a car. After a few taps, she said, “Ten minutes.”
Succumbing to a strange new desire, Ivy slipped off her loafers while they waited and dug her toes into the warm sand, connecting with the earth just to make sure she was really here and not imagining things. The sun blazed against her shirt, which now seemed too restrictive. She tugged at the stiff, medium-starch collar.
Ivy tented her hand against the sun and gazed back at the tired white structure that loomed on a point just beyond the village, once again wondering why her husband had never told her about this beachfront house. But then, Jeremy had always had his secrets. She breathed in the cool salt-tinged air blowing in from the sparkling bay. Summer Beach was a welcome respite from the cloying summer humidity of Boston.
She had come full circle.
Ivy swung around, drinking in the beach scene that she’d left years before for college. After her last summer on the beach, she’d been anxious to leave—thanks to Bennett Dylan.
Ivy’s parents were quintessential Californians, rooted in the soil they’d been born on, yet she’d grown up watching historical dramas and longing for what she perceived as romantic, old-world traditions. When she was ready for college, besides the local university, those in Boston were among her top choices in the United States.
And so, with her first broken heart, she’d left her hometown beach life behind, drawn to the east coast and the intellectualism of Boston. The summer vacations on Nantucket were the only brief reminders of the life she’d left behind.
She had been enrolled in a fine arts degree program when she’d met Jeremy, who worked for the French division of a major U.S. technology consulting firm.
She still remembered meeting Jeremy in a coffee shop in Harvard Square. He’d been pounding on a computer keyboard, his floppy, chocolate brown hair obscuring his eyes. Another patron bumped her, and she accidentally splashed hot coffee onto his black turtleneck sweater. He leapt up, exclaiming in French until he met her eyes. Later, they would laugh that this was the only way she could’ve drawn his attention from his work. He had a single-minded focus, and when he latched onto an idea, there was no dissuading him.
Is this how he’d felt about the house? If so, why? She wondered what mystery was at the heart of his intentions, or if she would ever know.
Ivy glanced behind her at the woman who’d been so rude to them. Darla, their new neighbor. She sighed. Jeremy had not made any friends here, and it would be up to her to repair the damage.