Chapter 1 #2
Inwardly, Ivy groaned. Bennett had obtained the city council’s approval for the event and earmarked part of the city’s tourism budget for it. She hated to think what the committee she chaired would say.
“Poppy has already sent out the invitations and press releases,” she replied. “The event is well underway.”
Looking slightly panicked, Shelly glanced around the property, which was in various stages of destruction. “We’ll just do what we can, I guess.”
Ivy kicked the knotted root with her sneaker, a little frustrated with Shelly’s lack of urgency. Was her sister even trying to find solutions?
On the other hand, their niece was very efficient. Not that she’d have it any other way, though. Poppy’s marketing skills kept their occupancy rate up.
Ivy’s own work had also taken a backseat. She had an important painting commission arranged by a gallery in Sausalito to finish for clients, but that might have to wait. At least they were in Italy right now and didn’t seem concerned about delivery.
Or so she hoped.
“How are she and Andrew doing?” Shelly asked, adding a fistful of weeds to her pile.
Ivy bit back a comment about her changing the subject. But they weren’t finished.
“Poppy doesn’t share much about that. Either they’re only casually dating, or it’s more serious than she wants anyone to know. She’ll talk when she’s ready.”
Poppy had been talking to Andrew, an attorney in Los Angeles who helped people recover stolen property and assert ownership of items such as looted paintings and dormant Swiss accounts.
They’d met through his aunt, the current owner of another property in San Francisco, also built by the Ericksons, the original owners of this beach house.
Ivy wondered if Poppy might move to L.A. someday. Long ago, she’d learned that change was inevitable. That would be a huge loss.
She paused, feeling winded now. Resting her hands on the shovel, she breathed in the scent of fresh, earthy soil mixed with sea breezes. “If I dig much deeper, I might hit another bunker.”
Shelly squinted up at her. “We never know what we’ll find around here. I’m hoping for something useful. Like an underground irrigation system in perfect condition.”
Ivy grinned as she loosened the shovel. “Dream big, Shells. I’ve put that project out for bid. We should know the cost soon.”
“I hope we can find the money for it. Maybe we’ll find buried treasure this time.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
They’d found plenty of historical artifacts in the rambling old beach house since moving in a few years ago and transforming it into an inn.
A few silver dollars surfaced in the old maid’s quarters that they could keep.
But they’d returned the priceless paintings and crown jewels to their rightful owners.
Ivy paused and rotated her neck. She hadn’t made as much progress as she’d like, yet her muscles were screaming. “I thought you’d dug up every bit of these grounds by now.”
“Seems like it, but no. Just enough to plant flowers to camouflage other imperfections.”
Ivy knelt to scrape soil from the root ball before picking up her shovel again. “You didn’t tell me this was going to be so much work.”
Shelly rocked back on her heels. “You sure complain a lot. Do you need some help?”
Ivy held out the shovel. “I’ve been wrestling with it long enough. You can try.”
Shelly quickly worked around the root ball, loosening it.
Ivy watched, intent on learning something. Her sister had studied horticulture in college, and she’d always liked working in the dirt and raising plants. In New York, she’d spent years creating extravagant floral decorations for large weddings, exclusive parties, and charity events.
While resting, Ivy glanced around the expansive property.
The landscaping had been old and neglected when they’d moved in.
Shelly had worked wonders trimming and coaxing what landscaping she could back to life, but it was time for serious improvements, especially after destructive weevils had killed two of their palm trees, leaving flattened tops and brown fronds behind. Those palms had to be removed.
Yet, the majestic queen palms that lined the entry to the inn still swayed in the ocean breeze. “I’m glad the queen palms survived the weevil infestation. Why was that again?”
“Women are stronger, of course,” Shelly replied with a smile. “Actually, that type of palm is impervious to the weevils. Isn’t always like that, though.” Shelly grinned as the old root ball released its grip and came free. “That wasn’t too hard.”
“I must have loosened it for you,” Ivy replied, grinning.
“Mitch couldn’t dig one out of our yard, either. It’s all in the technique. You’ll finish these before the Spring Fling.”
“That long?” Ivy groaned. “Let’s teach Bennett how to do this.”
Shelly jabbed her in the ribs. “Come on, Ives. Our husbands have plenty to do, besides their jobs. We’ve got this, but if Vanz keeps up his grades, I’ll see if he wants to earn some extra money. When he lived with us, he helped me in the yard. He caught on fast and seemed to enjoy the work.”
A few months ago, Mitch’s teenage cousin had arrived. His mother followed, fleeing an abusive home life. Shelly and Mitch had helped them settle in Summer Beach. After an initial adjustment period, they were both thriving after escaping the situation with Vanz’s father.
Summer Beach had a way of taking in strays and making them welcome, Ivy thought, herself included.
There were others, too, including Shelly’s husband, Mitch, who now owned the most popular coffee shop in town, Java Beach.
And Adelina, the artist they’d met this past Thanksgiving, who’d moved from the shelter and come out of retirement to reestablish herself and her art career.
Shelly handed the shovel back to her. “Just imagine how fabulous everything will look when we’re done.”
Ivy sighed and went back to work. To her, this was more difficult than reviewing the financials, planning the marketing program with Poppy, or serving guests.
But Shelly was in her element.
“Tell me again how this will look,” Ivy said.
Shelly laughed. “You saw the plan. Besides the vegetable garden, I’ll fill this main space with native or adapted species that can handle our microclimate.
Drought resistant, low water usage, and easy to care for, but still lush and romantic.
And lots of pollinators for our bee population on the rear of the property, away from guests.
Wouldn’t want them to hurt our lovely bees. ”
“Or vice versa.”
Shelly lifted her chin toward the greenhouse. “I’ll rejuvenate the landscaping around that, too. I have ideas.”
Ivy nodded. At night from her balcony, she could see the moonlight illuminating the interior. “Maybe a water feature like the San Diego Botanical Building near the zoo.”
“That’s a different look,” Shelly said. “First of all, that’s a public place, and it’s a lath design made of redwood slats to allow airflow and filtered light.
Its location is a little bit inland, so that design works better than glass, which heats up.
But here by the ocean, especially with our morning marine layer, the temperature is cooler.
The glass panes protect against salt air, which is hard on my seedlings. ”
Ivy stared at the old structure, warming to her sister’s vision as she realized how crucial it was to her work. They served her seasonal berries, tomatoes, and cucumbers, and so many other fruits and vegetables she produced here.
“This is important to you, isn’t it?”
“In so many ways. We save a fortune since I grow almost everything we use from seeds and cuttings. When plants go to seed, I collect those and start the process again next year. That’s why I choose heirloom varieties.”
Ivy smiled. “I recall those tiny black basil seeds. Who knew anything could grow out of those?”
“You think that’s small, you should see orchid seeds, which are among the smallest seeds there are.”
“This is really your world.”
Shelly grinned. “It’s what I love doing. Like you with your painting.”
They returned to work, and now, hours into it, Ivy’s back was stiffening. She’d have to find another way to get Shelly the help she needed.
While she could always use the exercise, Ivy considered this unnecessary torture, even if Shelly loved the work.
Just then, Daisy screamed. Ivy and Shelly both whirled around.
“Mommy, look at the ladybugs!” Daisy waved her hands in delight.
“I saw them earlier,” Shelly said, looking relieved.
The little girl cooed at her discoveries. “And look, a hummingbird. It’s flying so fast.”
Daisy’s vocabulary had exploded in recent months. She was mimicking words and stringing them together, narrating her world with enthusiasm. Ivy watched her kneel by a flowerbed, carefully examining the flowers and leaves.
“So pretty,” she said to herself. “But don’t eat it.”
“She might turn out like her mom,” Ivy said.
“Maybe. She’s a natural in the water like Mitch. I’m just happy she’s keeping herself entertained while we work. Win-win.”
“Digging can be treacherous work.” Ivy paused to rub her aching shoulder. As she did, she saw their neighbor peering over the fence. Lowering her voice, she said, “Remember when Darla called the police on us for that?”
Shelly looked up, saw Darla, and waved at her. “That was at night in the vacant lot. Of course she was suspicious. That’s why I told her that if she saw us out here digging holes, we weren’t burying bodies. Just doing landscape work.”
“I’m sure that put her mind at ease.”
“Sort of. But then she said, ‘With your track record, I wouldn’t be surprised if you found bodies over there. There’s a reason that place is haunted.’ Maybe I encouraged her a little, but I was only kidding. After all, she’s practically family.”
Ivy was horrified. They didn’t need that sort of gossip to stifle their business. “What does she know?”