Chapter 12
W hen Bennett walked into Java Beach, Mitch looked up and grinned. “Hey, Mr. Mayor. Heard this is your town walkabout day, so I’ve got your rocket-fuel java right here.”
He slid Bennett’s favorite coffee across the counter. The entire beachside cafe was decorated in a vintage Polynesian style. Colorful fishing nets and travel posters hung on the walls, and island reggae music played in the background.
Bennett gave his brother-in-law a fist bump and took the cup, grateful for the pick-me-up on his weekly walk to visit local businesses. “News travels fast around here.”
“Like lightning, dude.” Mitch grinned. “At Java Beach, good news travels fast, and bad news travels faster.”
Bennett chuckled but knew it was true. “I won’t ask which category I fall into.”
It was important to Bennett to hear from local business owners about their concerns, as well as ideas about how to make their community more attractive and function better.
Most people didn’t have time to attend city council meetings, or they hesitated to speak up.
On his village walks, he could speak personally to residents and visitors. He learned a lot more that way.
Just then, a child screeched, and Bennett whirled around.
Their neighbor Darla picked up Daisy from her stroller. “She must be surprised to see you here.”
The toddler stretched her arms toward Bennett.
“Hello, Daisy. I’m surprised to see you, too.” Trading his coffee for the little girl, he took her and bounced her in his arms.
Darla leaned closer. “I heard Clarence has been kicked off the Spring Fling board. The word is that Ivy and Shelly told him where to go. Even Pixie was against him.”
Bennett frowned. “I doubt Ivy would use those words.”
“Well, Shelly does. And I wouldn’t be sharing that with you unless it was true. You know I don’t like to gossip. Especially in front of little Daisy.”
The table of women she was sitting with burst out laughing.
Her friend Louise made a zipping motion at her mouth. “What did I just tell you, Darla?”
Bennett knew Louise was on the committee, so there was probably some truth in this. He knew he’d hear the entire story when he got home.
“Bet Daisy would like one of these,” Mitch said, holding out a cookie to her. “Oatmeal raisin, fresh from the oven. Sweetened with applesauce instead of sugar for the little ones. Shelly doesn’t like me giving her anything else. Mothers love these.”
“Daddy, I want cookies.” Daisy cooed and reached for it.
Even away from home, Bennett observed the house rules. “What do you say, Daisy?”
“Please, please.” She waved her hand for the cookie.
Mitch handed it to her. “And what else, Daisy-cakes?”
“Thank you.” She opened her mouth for a huge bite.
Bennett hugged Daisy and handed her back to Mitch, who returned her to the safety of her stroller. He loved Daisy like she was one of his own.
Across the cafe, Tyler waved to him to join them.
Bennett took his coffee from Darla, excused himself, and made his way through the afternoon crowd.
Tyler sat at the best table with a clear view of the breaking surf, as usual. Another man sat at the table with his back to Bennett.
Tyler languished in his chair with the air of a man who’d sold his Silicon Valley tech company and retired far too young.
Because he had. Fortunately, he’d started using some of his funds and intelligence in backing the music program in the Summer Beach school system.
He rose to give him a bro hug with a slap on the back. “How’s it going?”
Bennett stretched his hand toward the sea. “Who could complain with a view like this?”
“But they do, am I right?”
“That’s part of my job.”
Tyler motioned to an empty chair. “Sit with us. You know Ken, don’t you?”
“Of course. Good to see you again.” He shook Ken’s hand.
In his late thirties with still jet-black hair, Ken Fujiwara had recently returned to Summer Beach, taking up work on the Japanese garden his father had tended for years before his death.
After earning an MBA at Stanford, he’d worked in finance in London, New York, and Tokyo.
Since leaving his corporate life to care for his father, who’d had a stroke, he’d moved into the home his grandfather had originally built. Now, he managed his own investments.
Bennett put his coffee down. “I hear your garden is one of the frontrunners. I haven’t seen it for a while. Have you made many changes?”
“My father spent his last weeks on earth giving me detailed instructions,” Ken said. “I never realized caring for the gardens would require so much time, but it turns out that I’m as meticulous as he was. Who would’ve thought?”
Bennett nodded thoughtfully. “He entrusted something he loved to you, and you’re carrying on the tradition.”
“I hear him in my mind when I’m trimming the bonsai. He clipped it as if he was still doing surgery.”
“He is certainly missed at the hospital and in the community,” Bennett said. “Your father was a fine man.”
Ken dipped his head. “Thank you for saying that. This garden tour event means a lot to me. It’s not what I’ve done, but the legacy my father left.
The gardens were his refuge, where he relaxed after hours in surgery.
I thought I would maintain the gardens to honor him, but instead, the work became his last lesson for me. I love it now.”
Bennett understood how deeply he cared. “Your father was always happy to share it with friends and visitors.”
“He still wanted more for me. A family of my own. He insisted I leave an area where children could play. At the rate I’m going, it will probably be a dog run instead.”
“I hear that,” Tyler said, turning serious. “Celia and I are trying for a baby now. I didn’t want any part of parenthood before, and now I’m worried I waited too long for Celia.”
No one said anything for a moment. Bennett shared that loss, too. His first wife had been pregnant when she died of a rare illness. He’d been so grief stricken he hadn’t dated again until Ivy arrived in Summer Beach. And that was years later.
Just last year, Tyler had been the quintessential frat boy, all flash and little filter, with a yacht at the marina that had to be larger than anyone else’s.
That was the point.
His marriage to Celia had nearly crumbled under the weight of his excesses.
They’d managed to retreat from the edge of divorce and start fresh.
Tyler had needed a reason to change. He’d joined Celia in community service and found that coaching kids in excellence was more satisfying than anything he could buy.
But he was still a work-in-progress man.
Tyler sniffed before taking a swig of cold coffee. “To take her mind off it, Celia is shoveling money into landscaping at the house. Might as well dig a hole and throw it in.” He stopped himself. “I don’t really mean that. Whatever she spends pales against what I’ve spent.”
“Sounds like an investment that will raise your neighbor’s property values,” Bennett said, grinning. He still owned the house next door.
“Lucky you.” Turning to Ken, Tyler asked, “Why do you take the time to care for your landscaping? You could hire people to do that so you could work more.”
“I find it meditative,” Ken said. “My priorities changed when my father became ill. I still employ a Japanese landscape specialist, but I am just as much student as employer. His father worked for my grandfather, so his techniques reach back to Japan and its old traditions. Yesterday he taught me how to trim the black pines. I’m trying not to ruin fifty years of careful shaping. ”
Tyler seemed to take this in. “That’s interesting. How old is that guy?”
“Eighty-two. He moves through that garden faster than I do.” Ken smiled. “His philosophy is that the trees remember how they were shaped. Our job is merely to remind them.”
Bennett liked that. He wondered what Shelly had in mind for the inn. “I drove past your house last week. With the azaleas in bloom, the front yard looks incredible.”
“It’s been humbling,” Ken said. “But in the process, I’m beginning to understand my father more, and why he made the choices he did. The placement of every stone and plant was important. Each plant, each tree, was positioned to thrive. Like people should be.”
“Wow. That’s some heavy philosophy. But I see what you mean.” Tyler stretched his legs under the table. “Word around town is your garden is the one to beat.”
“It’s not a competition for me. Besides, Carol Reston’s property is much more impressive.”
“I think yours has a real shot,” Tyler said. “It has decades of soul in it.”
“Maybe,” Ken said. “But don’t count out the other entries. The Sandvik landscaping is very nice, and I hear the Seabreeze Inn will surprise people.”
“I’m sure it will,” Bennett said. He had faith in Ivy and those she surrounded herself with.
“I’d like to see what she’s doing with the grounds,” Ken said. “That property has so much history. When I was a kid, we called it the haunted house.”
“You should stop by,” Bennett said. “Shelly would love to talk plants with you.”
Tyler leaned back and crossed his arms. “You two can pretend this isn’t a competition, but I’m telling you, Celia is all in. She even hired a color consultant for flowers. I haven’t seen her that inspired in a long time.”
Bennett smiled. Tyler’s complaints about Celia’s spending had become a running bit, but underneath it, he was proud of her. He’d nearly lost her, and now he backed her passions without hesitation.
Tyler turned back to Ken. “What do you think inspired your grandfather to create such a masterpiece?”
Ken leaned back. “He bought that land after the war and his military service ended. He decided to stay because he fell in love with Summer Beach. It was a very small town at that time.”
Tyler looked a little confused. “I’m not following you, but then, I was never good at history. Why was your granddad here during the war?”
“He was injured in the war, and the inn was a convalescent home at that time.”