Chapter 19
T hree days before the Spring Fling, Kiko walked into the kitchen where Ivy and Poppy were reviewing the event checklist and threw up her arms.
“I quit my job.”
Poppy’s pen froze mid-sentence, hovering in the air. Ivy pushed her coffee aside.
“When did you decide?” Ivy asked, gesturing for her to sit with them.
But Kiko was still wound up, pacing the room.
“Yesterday,” she said, shaking her hands. “I called my boss and told him I’m going freelance. I have enough clients lined up to keep me afloat, and I’ve been thinking about this for months. Coming here made me realize I was staying in that job out of habit, not passion. It was time to leave.”
“That’s a big move,” Poppy said, looking impressed. “Good for you.”
“It’s sort of terrifying.” Kiko stopped to pull out a stool to sit with them at the stainless-steel island. “But this is also the most alive I’ve felt in a long time.”
“What made you decide?” Ivy was curious. Was it this house? Or the ocean breezes that swept away the clutter of daily life so you could think clearly?
“It happened when walking on the beach yesterday morning,” Kiko replied. “The sun was coming up, and I thought, I can either go back to San Francisco and sit in my cubicle under fluorescent lights, or I can figure out how to live like this.” She gestured around the room and toward the beach.
“Hard to argue with that,” Poppy said.
“Right?” Kiko tapped her forehead. “My best friend thinks I’ve lost my mind. She told me I’m having an early midlife crisis.”
“More like an awakening,” Poppy said.
Kiko laughed. “Once I hit thirty, my goals shifted.”
“Trust me, they seem to change every decade,” Ivy added. She knew just how that felt.
“Does this mean you’re staying longer?” she asked.
“If you have availability.” Kiko clasped her hands on the counter. “I know summer is your busy season coming up, but I thought maybe we could work out a weekly rate. Something reasonable for both of us. I can work from anywhere with my laptop and a decent internet connection.”
Ivy did the math in her head. They had vacancies now that wouldn’t fill until the summer rush hit in June.
That would be a slow bleed on the budget.
A steady guest was always better than silence echoing down the hallway.
This spring, Kiko had become part of the inn’s daily life, joining the morning beach walks, helping find Pixie’s secret stash of guests’ belongings—including her own—and even pitching in to arrange flowers with Shelly.
“We can make that work,” Ivy said, citing an amount.
Kiko’s face broke into a smile. “That’s great. I really wanted to be here for the Spring Fling. After watching what you, Shelly, and the garden club have put into it, I feel like I’m part of it all. I can’t leave before I see how it turns out.”
“You are part of it,” Poppy said, already typing something on her laptop. “And if you’re sticking around, I need someone at the check-in table who can handle people and stay calm under pressure. Would you like to pitch in for a couple of hours with us?”
“Sure, that sounds like fun,” Kiko said, beaming.
“You’ve probably guessed, there’s another reason I want to stay.
I still haven’t discovered her reason for wanting me to return.
But I feel like it’s right there, at the edge of something I should be able to see.
If I leave now, I’ll never know what it was. ”
“The answers aren’t going anywhere,” Ivy said. “They’ve waited decades. They can wait a little longer. It will come to you.”
“I hope so.” Kiko touched the pendant at her neck. “And there’s Ken. We’re having such a good time together. Today we’re going to drive to Encinitas. He’s been raving about the San Diego Botanic Garden there. There’s also an orchid exhibit. In fact, he’ll be here soon, and I’m not quite ready.”
“Have a great time,” Ivy said.
Poppy looked up from her laptop and caught Ivy’s eye.
After Kiko left, Poppy shifted on her stool and rested her chin in her hand. “I know we were supporting her decision just then, but now I’m wondering if quitting her job and staying here is wise?”
“That depends. I think Ken is part of it. But not all of it.” Ivy picked up her coffee cup. “Some people come to Summer Beach for a reason or a need they don’t understand until they’re here. By the time they figure it out, they don’t want to leave.”
“Like you did.”
Ivy smiled at that. She remembered arriving in Summer Beach with nothing but a broken heart and a set of keys to a house she’d never seen. She hadn’t planned to stay, either. And now she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
“Exactly like I did. Sometimes you have to ask more of life.”
Later, Sunny left to attend a lecture at the university. Ivy and Poppy finished updating the final promotional campaign for the big event.
Ivy stretched her hands. “I think I’ll check on Shelly and see how the greenhouse is progressing. It won’t be long now.”
Poppy closed her laptop. “It’s pretty quiet, but I’ll watch the front desk for Sunny and finish posting these work-in-progress and Spring Fling videos.”
Ivy stepped outside, checklist in hand. The landscaping they’d done over the weekend was settling in. Now, all the activity was centered around the greenhouse.
For days, the sounds of Fritz and Mac working had drifted through her studio window as she painted. The steady tap of tools and their continual banter kept her company. Usually, there were more guests strolling around or book club gatherings on the lower level. She enjoyed the activity.
She’d forced herself not to peek as the two men worked, preferring to see the reveal, not the mess in between.
The sounds had tapered off this afternoon. Their truck was still parked at the curb, but their tools were packed away, and the brothers were standing outside the greenhouse with Sage, looking satisfied.
Fritz saw her coming and straightened. “The greenhouse is ready for you.”
Ivy stopped at the edge of the path and looked up. They’d done even more work on the exterior. The greenhouse stood before her, transformed.
“Oh, my gosh,” Ivy said, her hand going to her mouth.
“I was speechless, too,” Shelly said, walking over to join her. “Isn’t it amazing?”
New glass panes gleamed where cracked and clouded ones had been. Fritz had mixed clear horticultural glass with the restoration panels he’d recommended, and the effect was perfect, emphasizing the period charm.
The structure looked refreshed without looking new. Some panes caught the sunlight, throwing reflections across the lawn.
Fritz and Mac followed them to the structure.
“We rebuilt the vent mechanisms along the ridge,” Fritz said. “Mac sourced brass hardware from a salvage dealer we know.”
Ivy shaded her eyes as she looked up. The new fittings gleamed against the steel framework.
“The vents move smoothly now,” Shelly said. “They open and close so easily.”
Fritz continued, pointing out what they’d done on the frame.
The original lacework pattern was intricate, the type of decorative metalwork that few made by hand anymore. The scrollwork caught the afternoon light, casting delicate shadows onto the glass below.
“I should paint this,” she said, the words slipping out without her even thinking about it. She had sketched it before, but this was even more inspiring.
She looked at it with fresh vision now. The crumbled mortar between the stones was replaced, so the structure stood solid once again.
Fritz smiled beneath his mustache. “She was a pleasure to restore.”
Ivy turned to the men. “How did you do this so quickly?”
“We have an experienced team,” Mac said.
Sage put her hands on her hips, looking pleased. “I told you they were good. Come on in.”
“Wait a minute,” Ivy said. At the entrance, where there’d been nothing but bare dirt a few weeks ago, a new jasmine vine bloomed.
“You planted this?”
Shelly grinned. “Some things belong in certain places. Wait until you see the interior.” She pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Inside, Ivy stopped short. Light poured in from every direction. Not the dim, filtered gloom she’d gotten used to, but sunlight that reached into every corner. She felt a light, high breeze circulating, carrying a hint of salt from the ocean through the new vents.
“And look down,” Shelly said, gesturing to the tile.
The vintage tile floor in a blue-and-white pattern had also been cleaned and regrouted. Fresh gravel had been poured under the plant shelves.
“Just look at your happy plants,” Ivy said. “I can almost hear them.” Not quite, but she certainly felt a shift in the energy in here. It seemed much happier, if that were possible.
Shelly laughed. “I might talk to plants, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard them talk back. You’re starting to beat me in the woo-woo department.”
“Everything looks so neat,” Ivy said, looking around.
Shelly’s seedling flats lined the benches in rows, already basking in the improved light conditions. She’d reorganized everything since the work began, arranging her tools and potting supplies on new hooks and shelves Mac had installed.
Shelly stood in the center of it all, her hands on her hips, tears glistening in her eyes as she gazed up at the restored ceiling.
“Look at this,” she said, sniffing. “Just look.”
Ivy joined her. Through the restored glass overhead, the sky was a deep, clear blue, framed by the steel structure.
“Fritz left two panels open at the ridge for ventilation,” Shelly said, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “And the vents work well. I tested them this morning. I can control the temperature and humidity exactly the way I need to.”
Ivy put her arm around her sister, sharing in her joy.
“It means I can grow orchids in here,” Shelly said. “Not just the tough varieties that survive anything, but delicate hybrids. The kind Hana grew.”
“Kiko showed me the sketchbook,” Shelly said, going on.
“She’s been talking to me about her grandmother’s techniques.
Did you know Hana used a toothpick to cross-pollinate?
That’s old-school, and it takes incredible patience and skill.
” Shelly sniffed. “I want to see if I can recreate the same hybrid Hana did.”
“The one she named Basil?”
Shelly nodded. “Kiko has photos of the mature plant. If I can source similar parent varieties, I might be able to recreate it. It would take time, maybe a year or more, but I’d love to try.”
Ivy squeezed her shoulder. “I think Hana would have loved that.”
Through the glass, Ivy spotted the garden club teens piling out of cars. Thorn swung out of his truck with Bud and Blossom, while Fern, Moss, and Vanz poured out of Briar’s little sedan.
Shelly turned back to Ivy. “I know you thought this was too expensive.”
“I said it wasn’t in the budget. There’s a difference.”
“And?”
“I found extra. It was worth it because this place has history.”
The light streamed through the glass, illuminating the restored tiles and the old potting bench where Kiko had found her grandmother’s initials carved into the wood. She thought about Hana, who had loved the greenhouse enough to mention it in her final letter.
Ivy thought about Amelia, who had built it as a shelter for plants that needed protection. And Shelly, who had fought to save it when demolishing it would have been easier.
“Restoring it was the right thing to do,” Ivy said, nodding. “Absolutely.”
Shelly threw her arms around her. “Thank you for trusting me, Ives.”
“Always, Shells. Even when you drive me crazy.”
Shelly pulled back and laughed, wiping her eyes with both hands. “I need to make sure the kids get started on the right projects.”
She and Ivy thanked Fritz and Mac before stepping outside to see them off. Ivy gave them the final payment.
“Call us if you see another beauty like this one,” Fritz said before stepping into their truck.
After they left, Ivy walked the grounds, inspecting each area with fresh eyes. She joined Shelly again.
“Are you happy with how the landscaping and gardens are shaping up?”
“Mostly,” Shelly replied. “We won’t finish everything I wanted, but no one will know that.”
The front lawn, flower gardens, and blooming terrace pots were ready for the event. They looked natural, effortless, and abundant, which meant Shelly and her team had likely spent a great deal of time on them. The newly trimmed palms swayed overhead, their fronds catching the afternoon breeze.
“I want to show you the full approach and the impact I imagined,” Shelly said, leading her.
Ivy walked with her toward the rear patio and the path to the greenhouse. This was the section her sister was most proud of. The walking path led past beds of native wildflowers and joined a curving walkway bordered by fragrant herbs. Around the final turn, the greenhouse was fully revealed.
“I have some benches being delivered tomorrow,” Shelly said. “Guests can sit and read, take photos, or simply enjoy the ocean view and the scent of jasmine.”
“That’s a great idea,” Ivy said. She was through complaining about the budget. If guests enjoyed it and were happy, that’s all that mattered.
Behind them, Thorn yelled, “Hey, Shelly, where do you want the last of the lantana?”
“Check the map,” Shelly called back. “Use your brain.”
“I am using my brain. My brain is confused today.”
Shelly laughed. “Welcome to landscaping. I’ll be right there.”
Ivy smiled, heading back toward the inn. Three days to go. The grounds were ready, the irrigation was working, and the greenhouse looked spectacular. Their family and the high school garden club had helped them pull it off.
Still, she was nervous. She’d seen sudden windstorms rip off flowers and palm fronds, overturn patio furniture, and damage landscaping.
Ocean waves could surge, causing flooding well into the village. Even though that was rare, it had happened before.