IN THE SIDE garden that Shelly had brought back from the wild, Ivy snipped stalks of Hawaiian red ginger, orange birds of paradise, and lacy green ferns in anticipation of their first guests. She admired the colors against the yellow linen sundress she wore and thought what a vivid still life the armload she carried would make, especially framed by the brilliant blue sky above. It seemed unseasonably warm today as if summer couldn’t wait to arrive. Turning her face toward the sun, she thought it was a perfect day for new beginnings.
Ivy glanced toward the ocean, where a few solitary souls strolled the water’s edge. Some people had leashed dogs nipping at the waves, while others stopped to contemplate the swell of the sea. If the heat kept up, the summer crowds would come early.
She paused, fixing the image of a young couple with a yellow Labrador trotting beside them in her mind. He carried a little girl on his shoulders.
She would sketch that later today, she decided.
Carrying her bundle of flowers, Ivy hurried to the front of the house where Shelly was watering a riotous mix of flowers she had just planted on the slope leading to the front steps. Purple and pink petunias were nestled within a border of white alyssum, along with pink hibiscus and lavender buddleia bushes to attract butterflies.
On their flight back from Boston, Shelly had been uncharacteristically quiet. Ivy didn’t know if she was upset over Ezzra or Mitch—or both. Each time she tried to coax conversation out of her, Shelly shut down. But now, out here, surrounded by the nature she loved, Shelly seemed better. For the time being, at least.
Shelly looked up as Ivy approached. “Are you sure the room is ready for the guests?”
“I’ve triple checked.” Ivy pressed a hand to her warm forehead. “I also opened the windows to let the sea breezes in.” She paused. “This is really happening, isn’t it? Our first rental, our first day in business.”
“My insides are leaping like crazed grasshoppers.” Shelly redirected the water nozzle toward another group of new plantings. “I’m giving these plants an extra drink before I leave them. It’s awfully dry for this time of year. We haven’t even gotten to the June gloom yet, and it’s already feeling like summer.”
“Feels like hot Santa Ana winds.” Ivy met Shelly’s eyes. “I hate to say this, but Mom always said unseasonal heat feels like earthquake weather.”
“Don’t even say that,” Shelly said. “Besides, we’re not directly on a fault line here. But we should stock up on bottled water and supplies, just in case.”
“And sunscreen.” Ivy looked at Shelly’s handiwork, which enlivened the entrance and appealed to her artistic sense. “You’re doing wonders with the yard. And these plantings are gorgeous.” Ivy really meant it, and she could see that Shelly appreciated her taking notice of her efforts.
“You should paint these flowers. Those bare walls inside are screaming for artwork.”
“I set up my easel and paint in the atrium sunroom,” Ivy said. She’d even dabbled a bit the day before, and it had felt good.
“Our shipments should arrive soon,” Ivy added. “I’ll hang those first.” Fortunately, most of her paintings of the New England coastline had already been packed from her first move. It was easy to ship them. She’d also brought a couple of small paintings back on the plane.
Shelly sprayed a light veil of water over the freshly planted flowers. “I have a more elaborate plan in mind for a tropical seaside garden to chronical and video, but this was quick.”
Shelly’s mood seemed to have improved, but Ivy still detected a trace of melancholy.
Just then, a car arrived at the curb, and Ivy motioned the guests into the long, curved drive. “Here they are.”
“No more late night dance parties in the kitchen, I guess,” Shelly said. “Or we could invite guests to join us.”
“Darla would love that.” Ivy thought of how Bennett and Mitch had walked in on them that crazy night when they were blasting music, dancing, and attacking the brick wall. The past couple of weeks had been a stress-filled blur, but she’d also had more fun than she’d had in a long time, despite her problems with Bennett.
“Dang, we’ll have to invite Darla to the open house, won’t we?” Shelly flicked the water nozzle off and bent down to pat dirt around the base of a petunia.
“We should.” Ivy glanced next door. “But I don’t know whether to spike her Sea Breeze juice cocktail and risk a vitriolic rage, or serve her a virgin cocktail…and still risk a vitriolic rage.”
“I see your point.” Shelly brushed dirt from her hands. “While you see the guests in, I’ll pour the juice.” She hurried around the back toward the kitchen.
Ivy watched Shelly go and wondered what she could do to help her. She turned to welcome the new guests.
“Welcome to the Seabreeze Inn,” Ivy said to the young couple that got out of the car. They wore beach attire, and the easy way they slung their arms around each other as they walked toward her reminded her of herself and Jeremy when they were their age.
The fond, unbidden memory surprised her. Humans were neither all good nor all bad—they were just human and fallible, herself included. With a full life to look forward to now, her anger at him was lessening.
And after Bennett, she needed to face the fact that she might never find another person to spend her life with.
With gravel crunching under her sandals, she took a step toward the couple. “You must be the Calloways. Please come in.”
“Megan and Josh,” the young woman said. They greeted her and followed her inside.
While Ivy quickly stuffed her bundle of flowers into the cut-crystal vase in the foyer, Megan slowly turned around, her eyes sparkling as she took in the soaring ceiling and honeyed parquet floors.
Ivy and Shelly had redesigned the ballroom into a reception room, and they’d opened the bank of French doors on the long veranda to catch the ocean breeze. Chairs facing the sea would be a nice addition, Ivy thought, making a mental note.
Ivy and Shelly had grouped the furnishings they’d found on the lower level into small conversation areas to bring the scale of the room down to a more personal level. Shelly added an array of interior plants, including orchids, potted palms, fiddle-leaf fig trees, and other tropical plants. With large windows and sunlight streaming inside, the room took on an airy greenhouse feeling.
“Wow, your home is amazing,” Megan said.
Ivy was thrilled. As soon as she had stepped off the plane from back east, she had purchased mattresses and bedding for each guest room. This had cost a small fortune, but Nan had wired the money from the sale of the chandelier to Ivy’s bank account. She expected the expense would pay for itself many times over. Per Poppy, a fire pit was also on its way. Next week, the pool would be inspected and filled, and the piano tuned.
“We weren’t too sure about this place,” Josh said. “In the photos, it looked huge, but you don’t have any reviews yet. And right on the beach? Wow. Thought it might be a scam, but then we saw Shelly Bay’s video and thought, why not? My wife follows her gardening channel online. She feels like she knows her.”
Thinking of Poppy’s online videos, Ivy grinned.
Shelly bustled in holding a bamboo tray with two rose-colored drinks in blue-rimmed, hand-blown Mexican bubble glasses topped with lime wedges. “Specialty of the house—virgin Sea Breeze cocktails.”
“It’s you,” Megan said, delighted to see Shelly. “I love your videos. You make everything seem so easy and fun. And your arrangements are so different.”
Shelly thanked her, and they chatted while Megan and Josh accepted the icy drinks.
“Delicious,” Josh announced.
Ivy led them upstairs to their room. Against antique wicker chairs, she’d placed marine blue-and-white cushions with a pop of pink pillows. A white duvet covered the bed, and with the shutters and windows open, sheer white curtains fluttered in the breeze. In the background, the low roar of the ocean was naturally mesmerizing.
In her storage facility, Ivy had found two small canvases she’d painted years ago of Massachusetts beaches, not long after she’d arrived in Boston. Though the shorelines were rocky, in each one the sea was a majestic, curling marine blue kissed with windblown whitecaps. The artwork seemed at home in this room, and Ivy imagined that Amelia would have approved.
“This is beautiful,” Megan said, easing onto the edge of the fluffy, summer-weight down comforter. “We might never leave.”
Ivy smiled, remembering a time when she was first married and was exploring the east coast with Jeremy. From Maine, Rhode Island, Nantucket, and Martha’s Vineyard to South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida. Lobster rolls, Maryland crab cakes, clam chowder… Another unbidden memory, she realized. She shook herself out of it by plumping a pillow on the love seat.
“Where’s a good place for breakfast?” Josh asked.
“All the locals go to Java Beach,” Ivy said. She hadn’t seen Mitch since they’d returned, and Ivy wondered if Shelly was still keeping her distance from him. “Be sure to sit outside on the beach. You’ll have a great view.” She was already speaking like a local.
“We came to get away from the rain in Seattle,” Megan said. “What’s fun to do around here?”
“Besides the beach, you can wander through Antique Times or stroll through the marina. For quick meals, Rosa’s has good fish tacos. And while you’re at Java Beach, ask Mitch about his whale watching trips.”
Megan and Josh were staring at Ivy’s paintings. “We saw the news about the stolen paintings,” Megan said. “Is this one...?”
“Not at all,” Ivy said, laughing. “Those are with the FBI’s Art Crime Team, and they’ll be returned to their rightful owners or their heirs.” Ivy nodded at the seascape. “That’s one of my paintings.”
Megan perked up. “I love to paint, too.”
“I’ll be giving classes here soon.” The prospect of a future here filled Ivy with such joy, but they had to fill the rest of the rooms first. And fast.
After making sure the couple was comfortable, Ivy left them and joined Shelly downstairs on the veranda, where Shelly was sitting on the steps, digging her toes into the silky sand and sipping a Sea Breeze. Ivy sat beside her.
“We’ve done it,” Ivy said. “Our first guests. And the Sea Breezes were a nice touch.”
Shelly offered her a rosy-orange colored juice cocktail. “Brought you one.”
“Virgin or fully loaded?”
“It’s not cocktail hour yet,” Shelly said, staring at the ocean. “I thought we could serve these at the open house.”
“Buttering up the neighbors?”
“Absolutely.”
Ivy lifted her face to the light ocean breeze, letting it cool her skin, while the sun hovered in the midday sky, bathing her in golden sunshine. As she enjoyed the warmth of the spring sun, she remarked, “So this is our life now.”
Shelly nudged her. “Way to land on your feet, sis. You were always the smart one.”
“So are you.”
“Sometimes I wonder,” Shelly said, scrunching her eyes against the sun.
“I have no doubt. When I left Boston on the connecting flight to New York, I was so worried that you wouldn’t get on the flight.” Ivy stretched out her legs. “That you would have stayed with Ezzra. You didn’t tell me what happened when you saw him.”
Shelly turned up a corner of her mouth. “Oh, he tried, but I’d heard all those lines before. I told him he needed a new audience.”
“See?” Ivy smirked. “Smart.” Shelly only shrugged, and Ivy could tell she was still upset. “Do you miss him?”
Shelly clasped her knees and stared ahead at the swelling waves. “It’s funny. He’s not the one I really miss.”
Mitch. Ivy caught her meaning, but what could she say?
Lifting her chin, Shelly slid a gaze toward her sister. She held out her fist. “Rock, paper, scissors to see which of us goes to invite Darla.”
“You’re on,” Ivy said.
Ivy crossed the lawn to Darla’s house. She’d lost the rock, paper, scissors game, so here she was, calling on the local dragon lady. Ivy forced a pleasant look on her face and knocked.
Darla answered. The older woman had yet another rhinestone visor clamped around her dark blue hair. Ivy wondered just how many of those she had.
“Now what is it?” Darla asked with a sneer.
Ivy handed her an invitation flyer that Poppy had composed and printed. “We’re having an open house, and we’d like you to come and join us.”
Darla narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to have that loud music, are you?”
Ivy suppressed a laugh. “We plan to show everyone the work we’ve done on the property and talk about the future of the Seabreeze house.” Recalling Shelly’s warning, she made a point not to call it an inn just yet. That would only antagonize Darla, and Ivy wanted her—and all the other residents—to hear their entire plan first. And they needed Darla’s approval, even though they ran the risk that she would complain the loudest.
“I saw some people get out of a car earlier. I hope they’re quiet,” Darla said.
“They’re our iBnB guests. Very nice young couple. And quiet.”
“Humph.” Darla crossed her arms.
“Lots of people here rent rooms to guests,” Ivy said. “If we can’t, we’ll have to sell the house or lose it in a tax sale to a deep-pocketed developer. You know better than I what that means.”
“I fought your husband, and I can do it again.”
“But is that what you want? Wouldn’t you rather see people enjoying the home? I plan to teach art classes, Shelly is going to lead garden tours, and we’ll invite authors in to speak. We want to be part of the community and share this magnificent old home for years to come.”
Darla looked like she was considering her message, so Ivy pressed on, hoping she was making progress against a potential seismic upheaval at the open house.
“A lot of your friends will be there. Nan and Arthur from the antique shop, and Mitch from Java Beach.” Ivy remembered that he had spoken in her defense the first day they’d arrived.
“Maybe I’ll stop by.” Darla snatched the invitation from her hand.
“We’d sure like that. Since we’re neighbors—”
Darla slammed the door.
A dire warning stirred inside of her. Did that woman ever have a good day? If so, Ivy thought, please let it be the day of the open house.
Ivy continued knocking on neighbors’ doors. Shelly had selected another street. Finally, Ivy decided to visit Mitch at Java Beach. Although she still had some reservations, she wanted to make an effort. According to Bennett, Mitch had reformed, but then, Ivy had no idea about the details as to why he had served time in prison, aside from burglary. She hadn’t asked.
The coffee shop was busy, and Ivy waited in line. When Ivy stepped up to the counter, Mitch simply said, “What’ll it be?”
“Hey, Mitch. Coffee of the day, please. She took an invitation from her purse. “We’d like for you to come to our open house, see what we’ve done to it, and hear about plans for the future.”
“I’m pretty swamped.”
“And we were hoping you could provide coffee and pastries,” she quickly added. “For about 50 to 100.” Would Shelly be angry about this? She’d sure seemed happier around Mitch. That would be worth the cost.
“Well—”
“Good, it’s settled then.” Ivy beamed and opened her purse.
Mitch held up his hands. “I didn’t say I’d do it.”
Her eyes flicked across his pastry case. “Your cream cheese pastries are the best, everyone says so. I can’t believe you make them here.” She raised her eyes to his. She wasn’t above begging on behalf of her sister. “Please?”
He heaved a great sigh. “All right. But only if you’re sure Shelly is okay with this.”
“Of course. It was her suggestion.”
Mitch raised his brow.
“Well, I could tell that was what she was thinking, even if she wouldn’t say it.”
“I shouldn’t be doing this, but—”
“Thank you, Mitch.” Shelly would be livid when she found out, but Ivy hoped she’d eventually come around. What would her sister do—storm out in the middle of the open house? Ivy blew out a breath. Yes, she might.