“THANK YOU ALL for coming,” Ivy said as she gazed across the converted ballroom, which comfortably held the crowd that had gathered. Feeling confident, she raised her glass, taking care not to catch Bennett’s strangely intense gaze.
Instead, Ivy looked at her mother, who had a proud smile on her face. “Here’s to a new chapter of Amelia Erickson’s Las Brisas del Mar, which we now call the Seabreeze house. A place for gathering and relaxing on the shores of Summer Beach.”
“Here, here,” Nan said as she began clapping. Arthur joined in, as did many other people.
When the applause subsided, Ivy went on. “Speaking of Seabreeze, we’re hoping for a cool breeze right now, in fact.”
A chuckle rippled across the crowd. “An early summer,” someone called out.
Ivy fanned herself. “And please welcome our first iBnB guests, Megan and Josh from Seattle, who have joined us, too.” She fluttered her fingers in a little wave to the young couple, who were seated nearby.
As it turned out, Megan was a documentary filmmaker, and an idea was quickly forming in Ivy’s mind. Amelia Erickson was a fascinating character shrouded in mystery. Maybe there was a story there for Megan.
Ivy refocused her attention and carried on. “Our ultimate goal is to turn this house into a gathering place for the community,” she said. “This summer, I’ll host painting classes, and Shelly will give gardening instruction and tours. But we want to do even more for the community.”
Shelly put her tray down and joined her. “Amelia Erickson was a patron of the arts,” Shelly said. “We want to continue her legacy by welcoming artists of all kinds. We’d like to host book clubs and authors in the library and musicians in the music room. We can host dinner parties and small events, and also provide lodging for your friends and family members. But to do all that, we need to be more than an iBnB host.”
“We need your support to transform our vision into the new Seabreeze Inn,” Ivy added, letting her passion imbue her delivery. “I’ve already filed the paperwork for rezoning, and I hope we can count on your support to realize our vision, which will be such an asset to the community.”
A murmur rose across the crowd, and Ivy cast a glance at Darla. Her arm shot up, nearly dislodging her sparkly visor.
Here we go, Ivy thought. “Yes, Darla?”
“What about the noise and parking? This is a residential neighborhood.” Darla’s tone was already confrontational.
“Just across the street is the beginning of the town’s seaside village,” Ivy said, summoning every bit of patience she could. “And if we’re given permission, we can enlarge our parking court on the side of the property, safely out of view of your home, Darla. And we’ll be sure to adhere to noise curfews.”
“More than anything, we want to be good neighbors,” Shelly said. “This is also our home.”
Without meaning to, Ivy caught Bennett’s gaze. Feeling heat rise in her cheeks, she averted her eyes and took another question.
“What we really want to know about is all that artwork you found,” Jen said. Her husband elbowed her good-naturedly in the ribs as she spoke. “Did you get to keep any of it?”
Ivy laughed. “We wish, but no, we turned over everything we found to the FBI, who will be tracking down the rightful owners and heirs.”
Behind her, a sudden hot breeze lifted the sheer curtains at a tall window, sending yards of fabric billowing out in a cloud of white. A stack of paper napkins ruffled in the gust like a deck of cards and took flight. Poppy dashed to catch them. Ivy brushed her windblown hair back in place. “Wow, what a gust. Must be the Santa Ana winds. Any other questions?”
“May we tour the house?” Jen asked.
“This floor is open, and we left guestrooms upstairs open for you to look at, too.” Ivy grinned at her new friends and neighbors. “Except for Josh and Megan’s room.”
Shelly added, “And be sure to say hello to Gert and Gertie in the kitchen, our twin turquoise refrigerators. They’re old, but they’re as chill as ever.”
“If you want to talk to Shelly or me, we’re around the house a lot, so come and visit.” Ivy stepped into the crowd, which was already flowing throughout the downstairs rooms.
She was proud of how Shelly was handling herself. Her sister was talking to neighbors, though Ivy noticed that she had been avoiding Mitch. She wondered how she could get them together.
Outside, the wind was picking up, and Ivy saw a chair blow over. Motioning to Poppy, she asked her to secure the chair and close a couple of windows.
After talking with a few guests, Ivy sought out her parents. “Mom, Dad, what did you think?”
“We thought you presented your side very well,” Carlotta said. “You have your detractors, but you’ll just have to win them over.” She nodded toward Darla and lowered her voice. “She’s not a fan of yours.”
“How well we know. Darla doesn’t like many people in town. Except Mitch, for some reason.” Ivy sighed. “Think we have a chance?”
“There’s always a chance,” Sterling replied. “Start documenting and collecting data on your community service and guest reviews. Be ready to defend your vision.”
Suddenly, an even stronger gust blew over a potted palm tree. Poppy raced to the windows to close them.
“It’s the devil winds,” Sterling called out. “Santa Ana winds are blowing hot inland air through the canyons. We’d better secure the windows on that side of the house, or you’ll have half of Summer Beach’s sand on your floors to clean up.” Her father took Flint’s sons with him to make sure the windblown side of the house was tightly closed.
Ivy cast a worried look outside, where palm trees were bending against the heated onslaught. Santa Ana winds. They were right to be worried. SoCal writer Joan Didion once wrote that these hellish blows delivered “incendiary dryness.” It had been a long time since Ivy had felt the wrath of these winds, but she hadn’t forgotten.
Overhead, the chandeliers began to flicker. Ivy gazed up just as the lights snapped off. Though it was barely dusk and not too dim inside yet, they’d soon have a problem. She saw Bennett head outside and remembered that he kept lanterns in an emergency kit in his truck.
“Everybody stay calm. We’ll check the power,” Ivy called out. A circuit breaker had probably been tripped. She’d seen a breaker box in the kitchen.
“I’ll get the flashlights we bought ready,” Shelly said.
Ivy started after Bennett, who was striding toward the kitchen. Since he’d cleaned the house before they moved in, he knew where the breaker box was.
When she reached Bennett, he was already inspecting the breakers, which were in a metal box inside the kitchen and behind a door. He hardly gave her a glance. “Everything’s fine here. There’s another one outside.”
“I appreciate this—” She stopped. Bennett was already out the door.
Ivy hurried after him outside, where the wind whipped her hair around her face.
Bennett looked around. “I don’t see any lights on at your neighbors. I’ll bet the problem is farther up channel. We may have a general power outage in the neighborhood.” Bennett pulled his phone from his pocket and made a call.
Crossing her arms, Ivy waited for him, drumming her fingers on her arm and growing perturbed. He didn’t seem to care whether she waited for him or not. But this was her house, her lights, and her party. She needed to know what was going on and what to tell people.
When he hung up, she asked, “So?”
“Citywide outage.”
“How long will the power be off?”
“I’m no expert, but once the fellows find the problem and take care of it, I imagine you won’t be put out for too much longer.” He turned to go back inside.
“You were right, but Shelly made a mistake,” Ivy blurted out. “It was a draft blog post she was working on that wasn’t supposed to go out. And I’m sorry I accused Mitch.”
Bennett paused at the door. “Well, okay then.”
“Is that really all you have to say to me?”
He stopped and turned back to her. He remained quiet for a long moment as if contemplating a momentous statement. Instead, he said, “This was a nice gesture—opening the house and inviting your neighbors and the community in like this.”
Ivy continued tapping her fingers. “What about us? Can I count on your support to operate as an inn in the future?”
“Ivy, you have to understand the process for zoning changes. I’m not the sole decision-maker.”
She stepped squarely in front of him and put her hands on her hips. Though she tried to remain calm, her heart was hammering. “But you do have a voice in the matter. And an opinion.”
Finally, Bennett looked her in the eye. “I think you’ve made a compelling argument, and your intentions toward the community seem honorable.”
He had on his mayor’s mask, and that disturbed her. “I sense there’s something more that you’re not saying.”
“I’ll be straight with you,” he said, his voice dropping a notch. “Your husband stirred up the residents and cost this community a lot of money. You can hardly blame them if they don’t fall into your arms the first time you ask them for a favor. You and your sister have to prove yourselves. You’re the newcomers.”
Ivy nodded. What he said made a lot of sense, even though it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “And we will. Thanks for the advice.”
Figuring there was nothing more she could say, Ivy twisted her windblown hair from her face and turned to go back inside.
Suddenly, an enormous, sun-dried palm frond with sharp, spiky edges hurled toward her. Bennett pulled her aside, though an edge of the frond scraped her bare shoulder.
“Watch out,” Bennett cried as another one blew toward them. Grabbing her arm, he spun her into the safety of his arms and pressed his back against the house for shelter.
“Ouch,” she cried, pressing into him. Above her, palm trees were arched in the wind, their large, dried fronds peeling off and taking flight in the gusts. “Those fronds are dangerous.”
Holding her in his arms, he looked at her shoulder. “Not too bad, but you need a bandage on that. Do you have a first-aid kit?” He pulled a white cotton handkerchief from his sports coat.
Ivy winced as he pressed the cloth against her skin to stem the trickles of blood oozing from the scrape. “Not yet. It’s on the list.”
“What am I going to do with you?” he murmured.
He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. “What do you mean by that?” Ivy stared into his hazel eyes. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure he could hear it.
Bennett applied the slightest pressure to the small of her back and lowered his eyes.
For a split second, Ivy lost her focus, and lifted her face to his, imagining the feel of his lips on hers.
Only a breath of space separated them.
“You need to see to your guests,” he said brusquely and pulled away. “But first, I’ll put a bandage on your shoulder. Come with me to the truck.”
Taking her hand, Bennett led her into the wind. “Watch the fronds,” he called out, though the winds whipped his voice into the air. He kept his head down and pulled her close to him.
As the stiff wind tangled her skirt around her legs, Ivy clung to him. Whitecaps formed on the ocean, and late afternoon beachgoers raced after hats and umbrellas skipping across the sand like tumbleweeds. The wind held fine particles of sand…and a whiff of smoke.
Bennett unlocked the cab of the pickup and helped her up. She waited, untangling her hair from her earrings and eyelashes while he opened a first aid kit.
“I can do that,” she said.
“You have another scratch on your back that you won’t be able to reach.” Working deftly, he cleaned her wound and applied ointment.
Grateful for his gentle touch, Ivy watched him work. “You enjoy being of service to others, don’t you?”
He paused, his gaze encompassing her face before finally settling on her lips. “At the end of the day, what else is there? The journey is awfully lonely if you have to go it alone.”
“Which you’ve been doing for a while.” For all their differences, the loss of their spouses was what they had in common. She touched his forearm. “I need to know. Does it get any easier?”
“The pain mellows, but the person who is gone remains forever rooted in your life.” He peeled off a bandage. “Hold still.” With a swift motion, he applied the bandage.
Ivy drew a breath, summoning her courage. “Do you think there will ever be room for another relationship to take root?”
While she waited for Bennett to answer the wind whistled through the cab, its force rocking the SUV.
After smoothing the edges of the bandage, Bennett let his hand linger on her shoulder. “I’d grown to think not. But lately I’ve seen widowed friends remarry and find happiness again. I think what they’ve found is good—even better—in many ways.”
They sat shoulder to shoulder while the wind pummeled the vehicle. “Why is that, do you think?”
“More experience, more maturity. Realizing that their one true love was human, too.” He chuckled. “As much as I loved Jackie, she drove me crazy at times with her incessant talking. But then, I also loved that about her, too. She had a lot of friends and was so informed on so many subjects.” He paused, searching her eyes. “Do you know what I mean?”
“I do. Jeremy had his faults, too. Only I didn’t realize the most egregious of them until after he’d died.” She quirked her lips to the side. “He stole the pleasure of screaming at him from me. Not that we had that sort of relationship. Not at all, actually, which makes it so surreal to think about what I know now.”
Bennett shook his head. “I can only imagine.” Glancing out the window, he said, “We should get back inside.”
Ivy twisted her hair to one side to secure it against the wind. “Ready.”
Bennett took her hand, and they raced head-down through a fine spray of sand and leaves blasting them like confetti. The smell of smoke was stronger now, and dark plumes rose from the high ridge that separated Summer Beach from the rest of the county. Bennett glanced up. “Oh, crap.”
Behind them, waves roared against the wind and droplets took flight, pelting them until they reached the house. They burst through the door, panting and flinging bits of debris from their hair and clothing.
Chief Clarkson strode towards them, his face a grim mask. “Mayor, we’ve had a report of fire up on the ridge.”
Bennett’s lips parted. “How bad is it?”
“We’re evacuating the area,” the chief said. “Your house, too.”