Chapter 1
I promise you’ll be interested in this, Nan had told her, refusing to say anything else until Ivy arrived. She wondered what Nan had put aside for her at Antique Times in the village. Likely, it had to do with the renovation of the Seabreeze Inn. She’d been searching for vintage fixtures and parts for replacements.
Ivy walked toward the stucco façade ablaze with flaming pink bougainvillea flowers fluttering over the doorway. Once inside, the scent of lavender potpourri emanated from a crystal bowl warmed under a Victorian lamp.
Her friend looked up from the glass countertop she was cleaning.
“Hi, Nan. What treasures did you find for me?”
Nan hurried to greet her, her red curls fairly bobbing with excitement. “I have it right here.” She opened an old scrapbook and pointed to a yellowed article. “Read that.”
Ivy inclined her head. “But I thought you might have crystal doorknobs or light fixtures for me.”
“Trust me, this is what you really want to see,” Nan replied, tapping the article.
Her husband emerged from the office and greeted her. With his English accent and proclivity for Hawaiian shirts, Arthur was a delightful addition to Summer Beach. He gestured to the snipped column. “Go on, read it.”
“Just a moment.” Ivy couldn’t imagine why they were staring at her with such rounded eyes. She brought her orange butterfly-print reading glasses from her straw tote and peered at the old article.
In an instant, she realized why they’d called her.
Her chest tightened, and she could hardly believe what she was reading. “Why have I never heard anything about this?” She looked up at the proprietors of the shop.
“Well, it was a long time ago,” Nan replied. “That article is from early 1939.”
“A century-ish ago now,” Arthur added, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. “It was another time, yet in many ways, not so very different from our own. People don’t change much.”
Nan clasped her hands. “They still love to read.”
Ivy tucked her hair behind an ear and reread the short piece. “This reports that Amelia Erickson had plans to build a library here. What exactly did that mean?” Mildly frustrated, Ivy blew out a puff of air.
Why hadn’t the journalist been more specific? Ideally, Ivy needed a location, plans, and a large bag of gold coins hidden under a mattress.
Arthur flipped through the old file of articles he and his wife had collected in their research on Summer Beach. “Amelia Erickson was quite civic-minded. Remember how she spoke of purchasing the defunct Seabreeze Shores Airfield?” He tapped an article. “It’s right here. She planned to dedicate that land for a community park.”
“And now it is,” Ivy said. Not long ago, the residents of Summer Beach came together for that effort. “Does she mention a library in that piece?”
Arthur shook his smoothly shaven head. “Sadly, no.”
A strange sense of energy sizzled through Ivy. She shivered slightly, even though it was a warm spring day in the small beach town. Yet, this feeling was also familiar, especially when she stumbled on one of Amelia Erickson’s unfinished projects. The woman’s presence still infused the old inn once known as Las Brisas del Mar, which had
been her beach home. Everyone felt it, including her sister Shelly, their niece Poppy, and her daughters Sunny and Misty.
Occasionally, even guests.
Still, Ivy wasn’t ready to admit that publicly, as that would brand the Seabreeze Inn as haunted. She had worked too hard to revive the old property her late husband intended for his mistress for people to fear visiting.
Nan touched Ivy’s hand. “We thought you might like to know. Maybe you can sway the mayor with this information.”
Ivy smiled at the idea. “I wish it worked like that, but my husband is committed to doing what’s best for Summer Beach. That includes fiscal responsibility.”
Arthur chuckled. “Indeed he does. I remember when Bennett blocked your application to turn the old house into a bed-and-breakfast.”
Nan joined him in laughter. “It took a natural disaster to convince him that time. The two of you might never have fallen in love if he hadn’t been forced to relocate to the inn after the fire.”
“It was something like that,” Ivy said, smiling. “I hope funding a new library doesn’t take another disaster.”
“Faulty wiring destroyed the old one,” Arthur said, shaking his head.
That occurred late last year. Ivy had taken it upon herself to return the community’s support of the inn by welcoming former library patrons to its public spaces. Meanwhile, she had been lobbying the city for a replacement library.
So far, she had failed, and that was a sore point between her and her husband. But she wasn’t giving up.
“Everyone misses gathering at the library,” Arthur said. “Small as it was, it was important to people of all ages. After all, what’s a town without a library for books and news and a place to meet without the admission price of a cup of coffee?”
“You’re a fine one to talk.” Nan nudged him. “You’re quite happy to go to Java Beach every morning. You and your gossiping cronies.”
Arthur put his arm around his wife and squeezed her to him. “It’s not like that, my pet. I’m performing a service for Summer Beach, listening to residents’ concerns. I daresay you have the ear of the mayor, too.”
“Excuse me?” Nan raised her brow in faux shock. “Not like Ivy does.”
Though their midlife shenanigans were charming, Ivy cut in, grinning. “Okay, you two, that’s enough. Sadly, I don’t have any power over city matters.”
During the week, Nan worked as the receptionist at City Hall. She had plenty of influence, too, but neither of them could conjure more funds in the budget to rebuild a library. The owner’s property insurance in the library’s leased space hadn’t been enough, and the community couldn’t make up the difference.
She turned back to the article about the library. “Are you sure this is the only mention of the project?”
“That’s all we could find,” Arthur replied. “By chance, might there be extra funds from the renovation project?”
Recently, Ivy held a gala fundraiser to restore the old property as a centerpiece of the community. “I’m afraid those finances are committed.”
That’s what Bennett said about the city budget, too.
“Well, then, do you still want the vintage wall sconces for the ballroom?” Nan asked, changing the subject. “They’re such a good match to the ones you have. We were lucky to find them.”
“Fortunately, those are in the budget,” Ivy replied, nodding.
“We’re always watching estate sales for you,” Arthur said. “We know the effort it takes to keep up the older properties in town.”
“I appreciate that.” Another shiver touched Ivy’s neck, and she rubbed it. “You’ll let me know if you find anything else about Amelia Erickson’s plan for a local library?”
“Of course,” Nan replied, though her expression was doubtful. “And best of luck with your city council presentation tonight.”
“Thanks. I’ll need heaps of good fortune this time.” Ivy smiled at the couple’s genuine, heartfelt encouragement for her second attempt. She was leading this library proposal for the small town, and she hated to disappoint the kind people who had been there for her since she’d arrived when she was newly widowed, cash-poor, and in desperate need of a fresh start in life.
So many
strangers-turned-friends had supported her efforts, sending friends and family to stay at the fledgling inn. Darla, the grouchy neighbor who’d once sued her, had become an ally. She was still nosy, but she meant well. Darla was especially fond of Ivy’s brother-in-law, Mitch. Darla considered him a son.
Ivy paid for the sconces and left the shop to walk back to the inn, wondering what she might have overlooked. She had identified additional state grants and a small private donation. Would it be enough this time?
As she approached the old house, her heart tightened. If ever she needed some of Amelia Erickson’s guidance, it was now.
“Finally, this is the life.” Ivy kicked off her sneakers in the vintage convertible as Bennett drove along the coastline. With the top down, the 1950s cherry-red Chevy was open to the clear blue sky, and she shook back her hair in the breeze.
She hadn’t felt this relaxed since before her bid for a new library had been denied again at City Hall last week. That disappointment had become an undercurrent in their marriage, but she was trying to rise above it. As mayor, her husband had a duty to the city that had nothing to do with her.
At least, not usually.
Since sunrise, they’d been clearing guest rooms of furnishings, shifting boxes and furniture from one block of rooms to another in preparation for tomorrow’s construction kickoff. She was physically drained, but in a good way.
Bennett rested an arm across the back of the bench seat. He caught a strand of her hair and twirled it. “We needed this little getaway. I’m sorry about the budget—”
“Let’s not mention it. I know it’s out of your control.”
“You know I love you, and if it were within my power to give you what you wanted, I would.”
“I know,” she said softly. It seemed they couldn’t do much about this project that was so close to her heart and many others in Summer Beach. “Can we start again?”
“Good idea.” Exhaling, Bennett rested his hands on the large steering wheel and lifted his chin toward the crashing waves they passed. “This view always makes me happy.”
“Me, too.” Feeling a measure of relief, ...
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