Chapter 22
I vy stood in the room she realized was Ken’s office, looking at the slanted cursive writing. Once enlarged, the words were clearly legible.
She had little doubt that Ken’s grandfather was the man in Kiko’s photograph. The patient Hana had loved. They’d carved their initials into the potting bench, and she’d given his name to an orchid she nurtured until she died.
In speaking about the woman his grandfather loved, Ken had used the word “lost,” not “died.” Nor did he call her his wife.
What had happened between Hana and Basil?
Ivy’s heart ached as she thought about what Hana had been through. And now here was Kiko, falling in love with Basil’s grandson, without knowing any of this.
The relationship would make them cousins. Distant, but still cousins. Would that matter to them?
Ivy pressed her fingers to her temples. Should she tell Kiko? No, she couldn’t, not now, not during the Spring Fling in front of all these visitors.
This wasn’t the moment, or even this evening. It was too public. Kiko deserved to hear this in private to have time to absorb it.
Still, Ivy couldn’t hold this secret for long, and she needed advice. She hurried outside into the sunshine. Bennett saw her face and came to her side immediately.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice low.
“I’ll tell you later,” she whispered.
Ken appeared beside them. “Before you return to the inn, I have an invitation for you. Ivy, would you, Bennett, and Kiko come by tomorrow? I have something I’d like to give you in appreciation for allowing me to share my family’s labor of love. It will be quieter tomorrow.”
Ivy looked at Kiko, who nodded.
“We’ll be here,” Ivy said.
When Ivy and Bennett returned to the car, he waited until they’d left Ken’s home to ask, “What did you want to tell me?”
Ivy shook her head. “It can wait until tonight. It’s a long story.” She wanted to confide in him, but not like this. She needed to organize her thoughts.
They drove back to the inn, where the patio was already filling with visitors returning from the tour. Mitch had set up a coffee-and-dessert bar on the covered terrace, and people were spilling onto the patio and out onto the beach. Bennett was immediately pulled into conversations.
As Ivy walked through the crowd, she overheard rave comments about Shelly’s arrangements and all the houses on the tour.
“Such a lovely place…and that greenhouse is gorgeous…”
“Carol Reston’s home was incredible…”
“I could move into the Sandvik’s home…but the Japanese garden was so serene…”
The garden club teens were clustered near the greenhouse, photographing each other next to the plants they’d put in the ground.
Poppy and Andrew joined her. “Did you enjoy yourselves?”
“We did,” Poppy said, holding his hand. “And Andrew has met the entire family now.”
“Your father is a little scary,” Andrew said.
Poppy smiled. “You don’t know him yet. He was just teasing you.”
“That might be, but he’s tougher than most opposing counsels I’ve met in the courtroom.”
They all laughed at that, and Ivy was touched by the sweet looks they exchanged.
Most of the immediate Bay family was there, along with Bennett’s sister and her husband and son. Everyone was having a good time, locals and visitors alike.
Even Pixie made her entrance, trotting across the patio in a tiny floral outfit that Gilda had bought for the occasion. She behaved herself for about ten minutes, sitting primly beside Gilda’s chair and accepting attention from guests.
Ivy caught a glimpse of the tiny dog from the corner of her eye.
Pixie trotted away when Gilda wasn’t looking. She jumped onto a chair and then onto a table.
“Oh, no,” Ivy said, but she was too far away.
Pixie had spied an arrangement on a table near Mitch, with a shiny satin ribbon loosely wrapped around it.
The theft was swift and bold, and no one noticed until the flowers crashed onto the patio.
Pixie snatched the ribbon in her teeth and bolted, streaming the satin ribbon behind her like a victory flag as she raced through the garden path, past the laughing guests, and around the greenhouse in a full lap.
“There goes Pixie,” Sunny yelled.
“Woo-hoo, look at her go,” Shelly cried, laughing. She bounced Daisy on her hip, and the little girl squealed with glee.
The cousins started cheering her on. “Go Pixie! Pixie for the win!”
The crowd loved it, and Poppy captured the whole thing on video.
When Pixie sailed by again, Ivy and Sunny headed her toward Gilda, who scooped her up and retrieved the crumpled ribbon.
Gilda scolded her in a sweet, loving voice before turning to Ivy. “I’m sorry about the flowers. She’s been doing so well in therapy.”
“She just made the Spring Fling memorable,” Ivy said.
“Daisy thought it was hysterical,” Shelly said. “Don’t worry, flowers aren’t meant to last forever.”
“That dog is the best marketing we’ve ever had,” Poppy said, replaying the footage. “I bet this will get more engagement than everything I’ve posted this month combined.”
Ivy checked her watch, and Poppy nodded. “It’s time, Aunt Ivy. I’ll introduce you.”
Poppy welcomed everyone and introduced Ivy to those who didn’t know her.
Chairs scraped on the patio as the crowd turned to see her. Ivy smoothed her dress and stood near the pool.
Nearby, Arthur, Nan, Louise, Paige, Roy, and Leilani were seated at a table, each of them wearing their committee badges.
The Sandvik couple were seated at another table with friends, and they looked eager with anticipation.
“Thank you all for making the first annual Spring Fling a tremendous success,” Ivy said. She looked out at the faces, the residents who’d opened their gardens, the visitors who’d traveled to see them, the committee who’d been patient when trusting her was hard.
“This event is about more than beautiful gardens,” she said. “It’s about our community and the beauty that’s created when people care enough about a place to pour their hearts into it. Each one of these owners is an artist, and we honor all of you today.”
When the applause died down, she continued with the awards. “In third place, for outstanding traditional coastal design, the Sandvik residence.”
The applause was immediate and genuine. The Sandviks accepted their plaque with grace.
“In second place, for modern garden excellence and creative vision, Carol Reston Jefferson and Hal Jefferson.”
“Thank you, thank you all,” Carol said. She stood and blew kisses to the crowd while Hal raised his glass of sparkling water and acknowledged the committee.
“And in first place, for exceptional Japanese garden design honoring decades of family tradition, goes to Ken Fujiwara and the legacy of his father and grandfather.”
The applause was the longest and loudest of the afternoon. Kiko squeezed Ken’s hand before he joined Ivy.
“This honor goes to my grandfather, who designed the original garden. I believe you all knew him as Buck Taylor. And to my father, Kenzo, for continuing and expanding his vision. Finally, to the man who devoted himself to this garden and teaches me now, Takeo. I am honored to be the next to care for this lovely, peaceful place.”
Takeo stood on the edge of the crowd, humbly deflecting the praise.
“My grandfather built this garden to find peace,” Ken said. “My father tended it to find purpose. I’m continuing it to honor both. This award belongs to them.”
Ivy’s eyes stung with emotion. She looked at Kiko, who stood in the crowd with her hand over her heart.
After the ceremony, as the crowd thinned and the afternoon faded, Ivy relaxed with Bennett on the patio. She drank a chilled Aperol spritz, unwinding as Mitch’s team cleaned up, and the last guests drifted toward the parking area.
The garden club membershelped Shelly bring in the arrangements from the patio. Tomorrow, she would take them to the local hospital and nursing home.
“I think we can count this as a success,” Ivy said. Arthur had told her that they exceeded their ticket sales goal.
“On several levels,” Bennett said. He nodded toward Andrew and Poppy, who were perched on a low stone wall by the beach, their heads bent close. He would drive back to L.A. this evening.
Bennett sat beside her. “An incredible day, indeed.”
“It was.” She took a sip. “But I need to tell you about what I saw today.”
She glanced around, making sure they were out of earshot of any lingering guests. Kiko and Ken had already left.
She told him about the photograph in Ken’s office. “Ken called him Buck. That sounds like a nickname.”
Bennett was quiet for a long time. “It is. It’s coming back to me now. So Ken’s grandfather is the man Hana fell in love with.”
“I’m sure of it. Everything connects.”
“And Kiko doesn’t know yet.”
“No.” Ivy set down her glass. “Ken asked us to come back tomorrow. He said he has something to give us. Maybe he’s put the pieces together, too.”
“Why invite us with her?”
“Emotional support, maybe.”
Bennett took her hand. “Are you going to tell her?”
“Ken might tomorrow. It’s really his place, not mine.”
Kiko might be heartbroken, but Ken would be a newfound relative. Knowing how Kiko felt about Ken, though, troubled her.
They sat together on the terrace and watched the sunset. The garden was quiet now, and the greenhouse glowed against the night sky.
Tonight, the Spring Fling was a success. Yet, tomorrow, everything might change for a guest they’d all become so fond of.