IVY STRETCHED IN bed, savoring the sunshine that streamed through her windows and puddled on the floor, warming the old oak wood floor where the sandals she’d worn to the party last night lay.
The sandals she’d worn to dance with Bennett.
She pulled the white cotton duvet up to her chin and wiggled her toes with happiness. The memory of last night came rushing back to her and filled her with joy.
She couldn’t believe that Bennett had turned out to be so fascinating and fun, or that he brought out emotions she’d never thought she’d feel again.
Dancing in his arms, she had felt feminine and desired, though entirely respected. A romantic relationship was the last thing she thought she’d find in Summer Beach, but Bennett had awakened long-dormant feelings. More than that, being together seemed so natural.
The cell phone on her bedside table buzzed.
It was her daughter Misty. “Hi, you! What’s up?”
“You sure sound happy.” Misty paused. “Is everything okay?”
“Why? Because you haven’t heard me be happy for so long?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Ivy sighed. What a poor example to set for her children. Still, it had been a year of grieving. Though it was too soon to tell her children about how excited she was over the possibility of a new man in her life. Besides, they hadn’t actually been out on a date yet.
“How’re you doing, sweetie?” Ivy asked.
Misty let out a little squeal. “I landed a great part in the new theater production.”
“Why, that’s wonderful.” To make a living acting and singing was Misty’s dream. She hoped it was a paid gig so that she could leave the diner she worked at during the day. “When does it open?”
“Next weekend. I was the understudy, and the actor broke a leg snow skiing in soft spring sludge, so she packed and left.”
Next weekend. That might just work. “Would you like for me and your aunt Shelly to come on opening night?”
Misty let out a squeal. “Oh, my gosh! Could you really? You’d have to get a flight right away.”
“We need to return anyway.”
“You sold the house?”
“Not exactly.” Ivy didn’t want to go into her plans over the phone. “I thought I’d stay here longer.”
“So what are you doing there?”
Ivy wished she could tell her about the artwork. As a creative person, Misty would appreciate it. “Making a few house repairs.”
“Sure hope it sells fast. Hey, how’s Nana?”
“She’s fine. You should have seen her leading a conga line last night. She and Gramps are taking off in a couple of months to sail around the world.”
“Really? That’s amazing. Do you think they’re up to it?”
“I do.” Just yesterday she’d had her doubts, but after seeing their vibrancy at the party, she’d set her concerns aside. They were both expert sailors and knew how to prepare for a long voyage. She had to trust that they were going to have a wonderful time. And as her father had said, If not now, when?
“Have you heard from Sunny?” Ivy had been worried, but she’d learned not to nag.
“Sure, she posts on social media all the time. Mom, you have got to check it more often.”
“I will,” she promised. “It’s been a little busy out here.”
“Oh, hey, our table is ready. Gotta run, Mom, loves you, bye.”
Before Ivy could even say loves you in return, Misty had hung up. Ivy supposed she should be glad she got a phone call at all. She smiled. It didn’t seem that long ago that she’d left home and often forgotten to call her mother.
She flipped off the covers and padded across the hall. Shelly’s door was open, and she was on her computer.
“Good morning,” Shelly said. “I was just posting some photos to my blog.”
“What kind of photos?”
“Before shots of the garden here,” she said, pointing to the screen. “The After shots will come later, but I’m sharing my landscaping plan.” She grinned and stretched her arms overhead. “What a great party. You and Bennett sure danced a lot.”
Ivy flung herself onto the bed next to Shelly. “I had a great time. How about you?”
“Actually, I spent a lot of time with Mom and Dad,” Shelly said. “I’m really going to miss them. It’s different when your parents take off. Even though they’ve always traveled a lot, I’ve always expected them to be there. In the back of my mind, I’ve always thought I could go home. Now home will be rented out to some other family.”
Misty and Sunny probably thought the same thing, if they bothered to think about her much at all. “So we make our own home. That was a big place for them to keep up anyway.”
“Guess they’d rather be traveling the world than dusting furniture,” Shelly said, making a face. “Go figure.”
Ivy laughed. She told her about Misty’s call and her new part in a play. “Want to go back to Boston next weekend? We can catch opening night and pack all our belongings.”
Shelly shrugged. “Sure. But I have to tell you about Ezzra.”
“Just say no.” Ivy had been through several of her sister’s breakups and reunions with Ezzra.
“Wait a sec. Ezzra texted last night, and then he called this morning. He said he’d really like to see me again. I guess the last woman dumped him.”
“Which he probably deserved. You’re not seriously thinking about seeing him again.”
Shelly scooted her legs up and clasped her knees. “I do have to get my things in the city.”
“Please think about what you’re doing. We have a real opportunity here.”
“I know. It’s just that Mitch…”
“You’re disappointed that he didn’t tell you about his past.”
“I guess we weren’t to that stage yet.” She punched a pillow. “But I was shocked. I thought he was a good guy. An ex-con? I sure can pick them.”
“Maybe he is a good guy,” Ivy said. “He owns two businesses and seems responsible. Have you heard his side of the story about why he served time in prison?”
“I’m sure he has a great excuse. They all do.”
“Now you’re generalizing,” Ivy said. “So you’re thinking of going back to the devil you know? Mitch isn’t the only guy in Summer Beach who’s been checking you out. You should look around. We haven’t been here that long.”
Clutching a pillow in her lap, Shelly picked at a thread on it. “Maybe I need a dog instead,” she said in a forlorn voice.
“Don’t depress a poor dog.” Ivy sat up in concern. “And don’t be Ezzra’s second choice. You choose for a change.” Ivy bounced off the bed, anxious to get Shelly out of her mood. “Come on, we have a lot to do this week, and you don’t have to make a decision about seeing Ezzra right now. Besides, major decisions should never be made before coffee.”
Reluctantly, Shelly shoved off the bed, pulled on her yoga gear, and followed her downstairs.
Over breakfast, Ivy talked to Shelly about her ideas to decorate the house and take the photos that Poppy needed to upload to the iBnB site. When she asked Shelly what she planned to do in the yard, Shelly’s eyes regained focus, and she shared her plans for drought-resistant plants that would thrive in the mild sea breezes.
“Bougainvillea, lantana, rosemary hedges,” Shelly said, ticking off a list in her mind. “And a rose garden and raised herb beds. Some native Australian plants, and so much more, but I’ll take one phase at a time. The main goal is to have the place looking presentable.”
Ivy drummed her fingers on the table and eyed the locked basement doors. “Poppy offered up her brothers and their friends to help us later this week, but is there any reason why we can’t start bringing up a few items from downstairs?”
“I wouldn’t think so. As long as we don’t disturb the paintings.”
“Then let’s set this place up,” Ivy said, giving her sister a high-five. She could see the house exactly the way she wanted it in her mind’s eye. Light and airy, with orange-oil polished antiques, vivid artwork, and an abundance of flowers. A casual luxury experience steps from the beach, which she thought would make a good tagline on iBnB and social media posts. “I’ve got Mom’s linens and towels, and I can ship my artwork back from Boston.”
“Come on then, let’s do this.” Shelly got up and cranked up the volume on her Taylor Swift playlist.
Ivy and Shelly danced their way to the lower level. Pulling off sheets from furniture and opening boxes, they sorted through furnishings and gathered a group of items to take upstairs. Shelly hoisted a headboard, while Ivy picked up a footboard.
“Let’s go,” Ivy said. “First bedroom on the right.”
“Woo-hoo! Won’t need any exercise today,” Shelly called out.
Ivy grinned. But she would need a hot bath with Epsom salts later. Between a week of cleaning and painting, a night of dancing, and another day of hoisting furniture and boxes, this would be the most exercise she’d had in ages. Although she was sore, she felt physically energized and mentally buoyed.
Inside the large bedroom, the two sisters shifted the bed around until they finally decided to position it at an angle to a corner.
Ivy held up her hands as if framing an Architectural Digest shoot or composing a canvas. “Imagine open shutters and sheer panels at the windows, a table and two chairs in front of it with a bouquet of roses. A vanity here, an armoire there. Two small bedside tables, one on either side of the bed. A bench at the end of the bed for suitcases or dressing.”
Ivy moved into the en suite bathroom, envisioning everything. “And in here, luxury toiletries. Molten Brown, or maybe an artisan line from a local supplier. Fresh scents like mint or lemon verbena. Or unscented if they prefer.”
Swept up in the excitement, Shelly jumped into the story. “A magnifying mirror, a bowl of fruit, bottled water by the bed. Slippers and robes. Bubble bath and wine flutes.”
“And the all-important corkscrew,” Ivy added.
“We’re going to sell out these rooms.” Shelly whooped and raced back downstairs for another armload.
They brought up what they could carry, leaving the larger pieces for their nephews and their friends to bring upstairs later. “Not that we couldn’t try,” Ivy said, “but I’m not throwing out my back before getting on a flight to Boston.”
The two women were laughing and singing like American Idol wannabes, so the pounding on the front door startled them.
Shelly shrieked and raced downstairs.
“Have to get those door chimes fixed,” Ivy said, catching her breath. She swung open the massive door. Chief Clarkson and the two FBI agents stood in the doorway.
The chief furrowed his brow with concern. “Everything okay in here?”
“Sure, why wouldn’t it be?” Ivy replied with nonchalance. “We aren’t disturbing the peace, are we?”
“You’re lucky your neighbor probably hasn’t put on her hearing aid yet. Back door locked?” he asked.
“It is.” Ivy and Shelly traded looks.
Cecile peered inside. “Anyone else here?”
“No one but us at this party.” As she spoke, Shelly brushed her hair back and twisted it at the nape of her neck.
The chief pressed on. “So what are you doing in here?”
“Decorating,” Ivy said, waving her hand as she stepped aside. An occasional table now stood in the foyer, and on it rested a silver platter and a cut-crystal vase and bowl. She imagined a marine blue cloth thrown over it, with the vase overflowing with pink flowers and the bowl brimming with local fruit for guests. Tangerines, apricots, plums, grapes. Strawberries in season…acquired from a farm not far from here. That’s when Ivy realized she still had on her pajama bottoms and a skimpy tank top.
“We’ll let you get back to it,” Chief Clarkson said. “And we’ll see you in the morning to begin the removal.”
Ivy closed the door and fell back against it while Shelly exploded with laughter.
After they made countless trips up and down stairs, the two sisters sat on the lower level staircase and gazed across the room of antiques. Ivy rested her arms on her knees.
“Guess your masterpieces will be gone tomorrow,” Shelly said.
With a measure of sadness, Ivy nodded. “You know what I would like to do before they go away?”
“What?”
“Promise you won’t think I’m crazy?”
“You know that train already left the station,” Shelly said, nudging her sister.
“Ditto for you.” Ivy stood and brushed her hands. “I’d like to take a few paintings upstairs tonight. When else will I ever have the opportunity to sleep with and wake to a Chagall, Kandinsky, Klee, or Beckmann?” She strolled across the room to one of the standing crates where the agents had returned the paintings. Easing one painting from its place, she sighed in awe. The towering blue horses. “Franz Marc was killed in the First World War,” she said with reverence. “More than a hundred years ago now.”
Shelly joined her and placed her hand on her shoulder. “I’ll help you.”
“We have to be careful,” Ivy said, her hand quivering as she touched a frame. “What if we dropped one?”
“We won’t, I promise.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t.”
“I think Amelia Erickson would’ve approved. You once told me that art is to be enjoyed.”
“You know who else would enjoy seeing this?”
Shelly nodded. “Mom and Dad.”
“Do you think we could get them past our guards?”
“Why not just ask them?”
Ivy drew her lower lip over her teeth in thought. Did she dare? Her mother’s advice rang in her ears. If you don’t ask, you don’t get. She fished her phone from her pocket and was surprised when a call from Bennett came in just as she was about to dial.