Chapter 17
I vy put away the last of the breakfast serving platters in the kitchen. “Sunny, would you lead the beach walk this morning for guests? Sage should arrive soon regarding the irrigation.”
Sunny let out a sigh.
“Did you have plans?”
Her daughter wrinkled her nose. “No, it’s just that you’re better with people.”
“How do you think I learned?” She put her arm around her youngest and hugged her. “Ask them about themselves. People love to talk about where they’re from, what they do, and family. It’s that or you’re tending to the irrigation.”
Sunny made another face. “Can I wear your sandshoes?”
“Go on. Have fun. And don’t let anyone get swept away by a wave.”
As Sunny was leaving, Ivy saw Sage’s white truck turn into the car court.
The truck doors swung open. Sage hopped out first, clipboard in hand and baseball cap pulled low to block the sun.
To Ivy’s surprise, two older men followed, pausing in the drive to take in the dilapidated greenhouse facade.
“Ivy, these are my uncles, Fritz and Mac,” Sage said. “As I mentioned, they’re semi-retired. Fritz does glass and restoration work, and Mac handles the structural side. They decided they were curious enough to take a look after all.”
“Glad you changed your mind,” Ivy said, extending her hand in greeting.
“Only about the visit,” Mac said, his grip firm from years of work.
He wasn’t what she’d expected. Broad shoulders, silver hair, and skin tanned from years outside. He’d probably never bothered with sunscreen.
Fritz, taller and lean, pushed his sunglasses atop his thinning hair.
Ivy watched him squint at the roofline, his eyes narrowing.
“Sage told us this greenhouse needed a lot of love.”
“I think she’s still got some life in her,” Ivy said, hoping that was true.
She led them across the drive and the lawn, sidestepping the marker flags Briar and Fern had planted yesterday.
The path, which had been a tangle of dirt and tools not long ago, was finally starting to look like something.
Ivy felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this place could come together after all.
But would the greenhouse survive to see it?
When the greenhouse came into full view, both uncles stopped.
“Oh, boy,” Fritz said. He removed his sunglasses and stared.
Mac gave a low whistle. “Would you look at that?”
They moved warily toward the greenhouse. Fritz circled the outside, running his hands along the steel frame, bending to check where the supports met the stone. Mac crouched low, inspecting the base for signs of settling or water damage.
“The steel frame looks to be in good condition for its age,” Fritz said. “You don’t see craftsmanship like this much anymore. This was made by someone who cared about beauty, not just function.”
Mac stared up at it. “This is a classical, early 20th-century style. These were popular in Southern California at the time. The foundation is stone, which is crucial at the beach. Whoever commissioned this brought in good materials.”
Ivy shot a look of concern at Sage. “Good enough to restore?”
The two men exchanged a look.
“You bet,” Mac replied. “We like to get our hands on things like this. Sage convinced us to come, and she was right. This has some interesting history.”
“The Ericksons built the house and all the outbuildings,” Ivy said, feeling relieved, although she didn’t know what this would cost her.
“They came from Europe and spared no expense. Their architect was quite accomplished; she chose this for them.” She added the story about the architect who also built Hearst Castle.
Fritz pulled out his measuring tape. “That explains a lot.”
Shelly appeared, drawn by the sound of new voices. When she saw the two men circling her greenhouse, she practically sprinted across the lawn.
Ivy was glad she hadn’t told Shelly about their doubts earlier.
“Are you the greenhouse specialists?” she asked.
Fritz straightened and extended his hand. “Guilty as charged. You must be the horticulturist Sage told us about.”
“I’m Shelly. And this is my favorite place on the entire property.”
“I can see why,” Fritz said. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, with Mac right behind him.
Ivy and Shelly followed. Sage hung back near the entrance with her clipboard, taking notes.
Inside, the uncles moved through the space methodically. Fritz examined each glass pane, tapping some, checking the putty on others. Mac tested the vent mechanisms overhead, opening and closing them to assess their movement.
“The tiles are original,” Shelly said, kneeling beside Mac. “These are vintage Mexican style. We want to preserve those.”
“They’re in remarkable condition considering their age,” Mac said, running his thumb along a grout line. “Some are loose and resealing is needed, but we can work with them.”
Fritz was standing at the ridge vent, looking up. “These vent mechanisms are the original design. The hardware needs replacing, but the vent frames themselves are sound. I can rebuild these.”
“Can you match the original movement?” Shelly asked. “I need to control temperature and humidity for my seedlings.”
“Better than the original, actually. Modern hardware has a better range of motion and smoother action. You’ll be able to dial in your climate exactly.”
Shelly turned to Ivy with an expression of barely contained joy. Ivy knew what that look meant. Whatever these men quoted, she and Shelly would find a way to make it happen.
“What about the glass?” Ivy asked.
Fritz stroked his chin. “I’d recommend a combination approach. Clear horticultural glass where you need maximum light for growing. And for a few accent panels, especially at the entrance and along the sides that face the garden path, restoration glass would be fitting.”
“What’s restoration glass?” Ivy asked.
“It’s manufactured with slight imperfections that mimic antique glass.
Small waves, bubbles, a little distortion.
It catches the light differently than modern glass.
” Fritz smiled. “Part of the charm of a structure like this is its history. You don’t want it to look like it was built last week.
You want it to look like it’s been loved. ”
“Oh, it has been,” Ivy said.
Shelly nudged her. “I already love these men.”
Ivy chuckled. “Can you give us an estimate?”
Fritz and Mac exchanged a look and nodded.
“We’ll take measurements today,” Fritz said.
“We’ll have figures for you tomorrow. But I’ll tell you this upfront.
A project like this is rare for us. Most of what we get now is repair work on modern structures that were built to look Victorian but aren’t.
This is the real thing. We’d rather do this kind of work than anything else, and we price accordingly. ”
“Meaning?” Ivy asked carefully.
“Meaning we’re not going to charge you resort prices,” Mac said. “We do this because we love it, and that greenhouse deserves to live another century.”
Something loosened in Ivy’s chest. The greenhouse was the project she’d kept at the bottom of the list, mostly because it was the one she was sure they couldn’t afford. But maybe Fritz and Mac would make it possible.
Shelly stayed with the uncles as they began measuring and photographing.
Ivy spied Kiko on the patio. She’d been watching, clearly curious about the activity.
Ivy joined her on the patio. “Before they start their restoration work, I’d like you to come inside with me. Take one more look.”
“I’m not sure why.” Kiko seemed a little surprised. “I’ve been in there several times now, trying to feel the inspiration.”
“Have you explored everywhere?”
“Well, no. I haven’t searched it, if that’s what you mean.”
Maybe this was none of Ivy’s business, but she felt Kiko had unfinished business here.
And she hated to see anyone miss out on what could be, the way she’d almost passed on this old house.
What if she’d sold it instead of keeping it and transforming it into an inn?
She and Bennett might have never connected.
This life she loved would never have been.
She shivered at the thought.
She tried again. “Your grandmother wanted you to visit the greenhouse, and the psychic told you to find a house of nature. We’ve been through the albums and went to Arthur’s shop. But you haven’t done the one thing your grandmother specifically asked.”
Kiko folded her arms. “You think there’s something in there I haven’t found?”
Ivy thought about the jasmine she’d smelled when nothing was blooming. She recalled Daisy’s invisible friend, and she didn’t even want to think about the odd feelings that crept along her neck.
But those were all real on some level she didn’t understand.
Accepting them was another challenge.
“I believe that sometimes the answers are in the last place you’d think to look,” she said. “For whatever reason, your grandmother thought this greenhouse was special. If she told you to go here, maybe you should listen.”
Kiko studied Ivy’s face for several seconds. Then the corner of her mouth lifted.
She glanced toward the greenhouse at the far edge of the garden. The morning sun hit the old glass at an angle, and for a moment the panes caught the light and blazed.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s go see what Hana wanted me to find.”
They crossed the lawn together. Fritz and Mac had moved to the exterior and were measuring the south-facing wall, leaving them the interior.
Ivy stepped inside and felt the change right away. The air was thick and warm, sweet with the green scent of Shelly’s seedlings and the deeper, loamy smell of old soil. Morning light slipped through the glass in soft patches. Some panes were clear, while others were cracked and clouded.
Ivy pulled on a pair of gloves and handed Kiko a pair. “Let’s look in here like your grandmother would have.”
“She was thorough, that’s for sure.” Kiko moved through the space, searching this time.
She ran her hands along the supports and checked behind the plant shelves.
Ivy knelt to tap the cracked Mexican tiles.