THE SQUAWKING OF shorebirds through an open window woke Bennett from a sound sleep, just when he’d been planning to sleep in this Saturday morning. Usually, he woke before dawn to start his day with a run on the beach or attend a city event, but today he was relishing a chance to catch up on sleep. Closing his eyes, he burrowed his head back into his pillow just as his phone rang.
“Go away,” he mumbled, pulling a pillow over his head. Then, remembering his civic duty, he slid out a hand. It could be something important. When he glanced at the screen, he saw it was his friend Flint. Bennett groaned and rolled over.
“Hey, Flint.”
“Where are you, buddy? Thought we were meeting at Java Beach this morning?”
Bennett yanked the pillow off his face and pummeled it against the wall. His assistant kept his mayoral schedule, but he’d forgotten about the promise he’d made to Flint, to whom he owed several favors. Flint had hosted a party for him with friends in Summer Beach during his election campaign, and he’d referred him to a local radio station who’d interviewed him on the air. They’d also gone for a few runs and gotten coffee together. Flint was a good guy, and he hated to let him down.
“Oh, yeah,” Bennett said, trying to sound awake. “Your sister’s place, right? Can I meet you there?”
“It’s just a few blocks away, but I’m ashamed to say I don’t know the address. How quick can you get here?”
“Give me a few minutes.”
“Hurry up. I finished my coffee. Meet me at the hardware store next door.”
Bennett rolled out of bed and eased into his jeans. He pulled on a T-shirt and cap, ran a toothbrush over his teeth, and headed out the front door.
He still lived in the same ridgetop home that he and Jackie had bought after they’d married. It wasn’t one of the new mansions that were sprouting up along some of the beach communities, but the view was incredible—from Catalina Island and Long Beach all the way to Tijuana. And he couldn’t ask for better neighbors.
As he walked to his SUV, a couple of his neighbors called out. “Morning, Ben.”
He waved at them. “Good morning.”
Celia and Tyler had retired in their late thirties after selling their tech start-up in Silicon Valley. Now they spent their time sailing and investing in other young companies along the California coast. Tyler had told him they were anxious to stay relevant, a term Bennett usually heard from older residents, but that he supposed reflected the rapid pace of change in the technology sector. “Getting an early start on the gardening? Thought you’d be out on the boat.”
“Nah.” Tyler motioned to his towering palm trees where a couple of young guys with special equipment were scaling the trees. “Getting rid of the dead fronds. Heard that Santa Ana winds will be blowing through here soon. Want them to trim yours?”
“Sure, thanks.”
One of the workers shook his head and spoke to Tyler. “They’re booked for a couple of weeks. That okay?”
“Sure, give them my number. See you around.”
When Bennett arrived at Nailed It, he strolled inside and grinned at the owner. “Hey George, be careful waiting on that guy.” He jerked a thumb toward his buddy Flint, who was wearing a navy blue Padres baseball cap. “I hear he’s been banned from home repairs.”
Flint gave him a bear hug. “Woke you, didn’t I?”
“First time I’ve been able to sleep past five in the morning, and you have to call,” Bennett said, giving him a punch on his muscular arm. “Ow. Pretty buff for an old guy.”
“Look who’s talking.” Flint paid for some wood adhesive and other supplies. “Take my truck?”
“Sure. How’s your work going?” Flint was a marine biologist, or more specifically, a marine mammologist. He was as likely to don scuba gear for underwater research as he was to be teaching at the university or writing an academic journal paper.
“I’m taking a team of PhD students out next week to follow an interesting pod of dolphins.”
They were still talking when Flint pulled up in front of a 1950s beach bungalow shrouded by eucalyptus trees.
Bennett was surprised. “Your sister bought this one? Didn’t even know Darla had it for sale.”
They stepped from the truck.
“It’s the one next door. Come on.” Flint started off.
“Wait right there.” Bennett clamped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “What’s your sister’s name?”
Flint laughed. “I’ve got three, didn’t you know that? This house belongs to my sister Ivy. She’s recently widowed, and—hey, you might like her. She’s—”
“Look, buddy,” Bennett cut in. “I don’t know how to say this, but your sister Ivy and I aren’t exactly—”
“What’s he doing here?” Behind him, Ivy’s voice was knife’s edge sharp.
“Told you I was bringing a buddy to help,” Flint said, looking perplexed. “You two know each other?”
Bennett took a step back. “Hey bud, I’d like to help, but this isn’t such a good idea. I should leave.”
Ivy’s green eyes blazed. “That’s the most considerate thing you’ve said so far.” Ivy spun on her heel and charged back inside the house.
“What happened between you guys?”
Bennett jerked his thumb toward the house. “I had the listing on her house. You can see the condition it’s in now. When I got the listing, it was even worse. I did what I could, but your sister wouldn’t approve any expenses. I tried to be straight with her, but she wouldn’t communicate with me.”
“She was pretty broken up about her husband’s death, plus he left a mountain of debts for her to sort out,” Flint said with a trace of anger in his voice. “They had two children just out of college, and my sister was forced to sell their home in Boston and rent a room in someone else’s house. They’d had that home for years, but he’d mortgaged it to the hilt. I tell you, I never thought much of the guy. Jeremy might have been a tech genius, but he was flashy. Always spent a lot of money. You know the type. He left her in pretty bad shape.”
Bennett hadn’t known about Ivy’s children or that she’d had to sell her primary home and rent a room. That explained a lot about her attitude and her blow-up at the zoning department. “This house is worth a lot of money, but it needs work. Think she could get a loan on it?”
“Doubt it,” Flint said. “Ivy’s been a stay-at-home mom and a freelance art teacher. That’s why we’re all pitching in. It should do well on iBnB.” A look of concern shadowed Flint’s eyes. “Hey, that’s allowed here, right?”
Bennett nodded. “It’s not zoned for an inn, but we do have a lot of Summer Beach residents who post their extra bedrooms and guesthouses on iBnB, especially during horse racing season. What with prices going up as they are, many of our elderly residents use that money to supplement their income.”
Now he felt guilty. He should have thought to mention that to Ivy when she’d inquired about turning Las Brisas into an inn. But once her luminous eyes had locked onto his—furious though she was—he’d found it hard to think straight.
Unnerving, that’s what she was.
The picture Bennett had of Ivy shifted. He’d pegged her as a wealthy, selfish woman, but now he understood why she wanted to operate the house as an inn. He shot a sideways look at Flint. “I met Jeremy, you know.”
Flint hitched up his jeans and put his hands on his hips. “Yeah? What’d you think of him? And you can be honest. He was never my favorite.”
“My real estate partner, Claire, represented the Erickson estate and sold this property—Las Brisas—to him. He wanted to tear it down and build a resort monstrosity, but Las Brisas has a historic designation. The residents like Summer Beach the way it is. His lawsuit cost the city a lot of money, but we prevailed.”
Flint looked perplexed. “We still can’t figure out why he drained his retirement and stock accounts to buy this place.” He glanced behind him and lowered his voice. “When you met him, was there anyone else with him? A man doesn’t just buy a place like this out of the blue. I wouldn’t mention it to Ivy, but do you think there was another woman?”
Bennett rocked on his heels, weighing his friend’s question. Should he answer that? Now wasn’t the time to get into that story, and besides, what good would it do?
“I’ll take that silence as a yes,” Flint said, shaking his head.
Just then, the front door of the house slammed, and Ivy stalked outside toward the Jeep. As she passed, she said to Flint, “Your crew is making good time without you. I’m off to buy more paint.”
“Relax, Ivy. I’ll be there in a minute,” Flint said.
She slipped on her sunglasses and glared at Bennett. “Why are you still here?”
Bennett held his hands up. “I was told you needed more hands on deck.”
“Nope. We’ve got this.” She slid into the Jeep, slammed the door, and took off.
Flint chuckled. “She’s got it in for you. But we really could use your help.”
Looking up, Bennett shaded his eyes against the morning sun and considered the old house. Most of the neglect had occurred after Jeremy had bought it. The exterior had suffered the most; an exterior paint job was long overdue. “So you’re painting the house, too?”
“Only the interior,” said Flint, following his gaze. “The exterior is a job for professionals. Will need scaffolding to reach that height, and I can’t imagine that’s in the budget. Forrest can give her a deal through his company, but he’s still got to pay his employees. And she has to furnish the place before she’s ready.”
Bennett thought about that. If only Ivy had shared her troubles with him in the zoning office, he could have been more helpful. That’s what he had vowed to do when he was sworn in as the Summer Beach mayor. Irritated with himself, he kicked the ground and sent up a puff of sand. She had every right to be angry—on several levels. But Ivy was resourceful, and he admired that.
Flint adjusted his Padres baseball cap. “I’ve got to lend a hand inside. Are you coming or not?”
“Ivy’s upset with me, and she’s got enough to deal with without worrying about me being underfoot,” Bennett said.
Flint chuckled. “You’re probably right. When my sister gets an idea in her mind, it’s hard to change it.”
“You stay here. I’ll walk back to the hardware store and pick up my vehicle.” Bennett slapped Flint on the back and promised to see him again soon.
Bennett walked back, stopping first at Java Beach to get his favorite coffee from Mitch before continuing past Antique Times. Nan and her husband had a shop full of customers, so he didn’t stop but waved and went on.
He took his coffee and sat on the pier watching folks who were fishing reel in their morning catch. As he watched, he thought about what he could do to help Ivy. Strictly as a mayor for a constituent, of course.
If she ever spoke to him again, that is. The only problem he could see was that Ivy—stubborn as she seemed to be—might not accept his help.