Chapter 2
2
“ W atch your head,” Ivy said to her sister as they stepped through the plastic sheeting that divided the music room from the hallway.
Shelly ducked through the zippered opening and into the room under renovation. Her long chestnut hair was piled into a messy bun. “This place is such a wreck. At least it’s intentional this time. Remember when we took hammers to the old brick wall?”
“That moment changed everything.” Ivy grinned as memories surged through her. The paintings they’d found sent news of their fledgling inn zinging through the art world, bringing the guests they desperately needed to keep the business afloat.
The inn would soon be completely closed. Her brother Forrest had fast-tracked the renovation and put his son Reed in charge.
Ivy peeled a piece of blue painter’s tape from her sneaker and tossed it aside, brushing her hands on her worn jeans. Most of their guests had checked out, except for one in the rear cottage and their long-term guest, Gilda.
The book clubs had also pleaded for one more meeting there. Reluctantly, Ivy relented. Since the Summer Beach library was damaged and closed, Ivy provided space for library patrons to meet at the inn.
Shelly sneezed from the dust. “This renovation is getting serious now.”
“Reed’s crew is working on electrical issues now,” Ivy said. “Guests will be able to use hair dryers at the same time without blowing fuses.” She grinned at a memory, although it hadn’t been funny at the time. “Remember the Wilson wedding?”
“How could I forget?” Shelly made a face. “The ceremony was delayed so the bride and bridesmaids could dry their hair. That cost us a couple of free nights and extra appetizers while everyone waited.”
A sense of relief coursed through Ivy. “Those incidents are nearly behind us.”
“We’ll have to find higher-class problems, like temperature control in my yoga space. Some guests complain it’s too hot, but I tell them it’s good for stretching.” Shelly reached out and flicked a light switch several times. She nodded with satisfaction. “Look, no more flickering lights.”
“Or midnight plumbing calls,” Ivy added, reminiscing with a strange fondness for the old house’s original dilapidated condition when they’d first seen it.
Shelly bumped Ivy’s shoulder. “Just when I was getting good at plumbing emergencies. That’s a life skill I finally sort of mastered. Does this mean I won’t need my pipe wrench anymore?”
“Don’t toss it just yet,” Ivy replied. “I’m sure you could be on call for any number of folks in town. There’s always Darla.” Ivy jerked her head toward their neighbor’s home.
“I didn’t say I wanted to do it, only that I can.” Shelly laughed. “Mitch appreciates it, though. He’s better in the kitchen, so we balance each other. His customers at Java Beach don’t care if he can’t handle a hammer as long as he can work that fancy espresso machine and whip up breakfast.”
Ivy gazed around the room, pleased with the progress. Construction would shift into an even higher gear after the last guest checked out in a few days. The sooner they finished, the sooner they could reopen for the high summer season.
A good-looking younger man wearing work clothes and boots stepped through the plastic sheeting. “What do you think, Aunt Ivy?”
“You and your crew are doing a beautiful job, Reed, but…” She bit her lip, hating to bother him again, but a guest had complained. “It’s Dr. Kemper in room 114. Could your crew begin later in that section? Or work more quietly?”
“I told you we shouldn’t have rented any rooms,” Shelly said, shaking her head. “It’s not like me to turn down the money, but this place is a wreck. I wouldn’t stay here.”
“It was good enough for you for a long time,” Ivy said, nudging her.
Shelly grinned and poked her back. “You know what I mean.”
Ivy shook her head at her sister, although she wasn’t upset. Shelly was being her usual contrarian self, and Ivy had learned to laugh at most of her comments and antics. At least, she tried.
As for Dr. Meryl Kempner, the woman had arrived for her granddaughter’s birthday and found there were no other options in town. Her family members had taken every available room and couch at her son’s home. After one night on a small air mattress, she’d pleaded with Ivy, citing her aching back from an injury sustained during her military service.
Ivy was friends with the family, so she readily agreed to accommodate the retired woman.
Reed stroked his chin. “How about we work on another part of the house in the mornings?”
“That would be great,” Ivy replied. Her nephew had accommodated their guests as they wound down the reservations.
“Our visitors will only be here through the weekend,” she added. “We have no more bookings after that.” They had sent many guests to the Seal Cove Inn. Others had delayed their visits.
Ivy thought renting rooms in the rear cottage, which once housed the housekeeping staff, would be alright since they were on the other side of the pool.
Yet, the noise in rooms was still plenty loud.
After discussing the work Reed’s crew needed to do in this room, they threaded their way through the hallway. The floors were covered in paper to protect the wooden floors before refinishing.
“I’m sorry about the noise,” Reed said. “Were you disturbed, Aunt Ivy?”
“We’re early risers. Bennett was already on the beach for his morning run.” Ivy and her husband made their home in the old chauffeur’s apartment above the garages near the other cottage rooms. Although Reed’s early morning footsteps woke her, she gave him a reassuring smile. “The work has to be done.”
The hundred-year-old inn, once owned by art collectors Amelia and Gustav Erickson, was long overdue for a restoration. Thanks to her friend Viola in San Francisco, who lived in the Erickson’s former primary home, a mansion in Pacific Heights, their fundraiser for the repair and community preservation had been phenomenally successful. Viola’s friends had turned out to support her cause.
Ivy also had enough savings to update some furnishings for guest and community rooms.
They should finish just in time for the high season.
As they entered the foyer, Poppy looked up from the front desk. “We just had a call for another reservation. When I suggested she call the other inn, the woman told me she’d tried. With our referrals, the Seal Cove Inn is full now. But this woman is persistent. I explained the construction situation, and she seemed okay with it. She said she can sleep through anything.”
Ivy had heard that one before, but it wasn’t always true. “We had planned on closing during this phase.” Even as she spoke, a distant memory tickled her mind.
“I know, but she seems eager to stay here,” Poppy said, pulling her silky blond hair into a ponytail as she spoke. “She’s been following Shelly’s blog and social posts about the inn for a long time. I thought we could make an exception, just for the weekend.”
“I don’t know,” Ivy said. Aside from the noise, she was concerned about the potential liability. What if a guest tripped over an electrical cord? Ivy had impressed upon Dr. Kempner the need for caution, showing her the safe areas to walk.
“I thought we could put her near our other guest,” Poppy said. “Besides, Reed and his crew won’t work on the weekend.”
Reed looked skeptical. “We are now if we want to make the deadline before summer.”
“Surely she can find something nearby,” Shelly said with a dismissive wave. “Even though I’m flattered she’s been following me.”
A guilty look washed over Poppy’s face as she turned to Ivy. “The problem is, she’s not far away. I’ve already booked her into a room. You told me to embrace decision-making, so I did.”
“Then let’s welcome her,” Ivy said. If she were going to delegate tasks to others, she also had to trust them.
Looking relieved, Poppy turned to her brother. “Reed, could your crew work a little quieter this weekend?”
“We’re doing our best,” he replied, brushing white wallboard dust from his thick, wavy hair. “Your timeline is aggressive. We’ll move to the other side of the inn, though. I’ll talk to them now.”
“Thank you for doing that,” Ivy called after Reed as he hurried away. She knew he would work as quickly as possible under the guidance of his father, Forrest. Ivy’s brother managed larger construction projects, so Reed had grown up in the business.
They would have to make their remaining guests as comfortable as they could in what was rapidly becoming a major construction zone. However, they couldn’t afford vacancies for long. That was why the inn would close during the most disruptive work. Reed promised his crew and other subcontractors would work as quickly as possible.
Even without guests, there was still plenty to do at the inn. Shelly would overhaul the grounds and prepare the garden, while Poppy would create the summer marketing campaign. Ivy would manage the budget and answer questions Reed needed resolved.
Ivy turned back to Poppy. “Who is our new guest?”
“Libby Connors.” Poppy beamed. “She sounds very understanding. I don’t think she’ll pose a problem. And it’s only for the weekend. I’ll make sure to keep her out of harm’s way.”
What was another few days? Ivy knew what it was to be without a place to stay. After her husband died suddenly, she’d sold their Boston condo she hadn’t known was so highly mortgaged. She’d had difficulty finding another home. Having been a stay-at-home mother for years, she had little verifiable income aside from teaching part-time art classes.
Without cash deposits and a source of income, she couldn’t rent an apartment. So when she discovered a room for rent in a professor’s home, she had to take it for a few months until she could figure out her life. She had never felt so adrift. Her eldest daughter lived with roommates, and her youngest was traveling Europe for the summer.
Ivy pressed a finger to her temple as a flood of emotions filled her. Although it hadn’t been easy, she had managed to transform her life. When she opened the inn, she had vowed not to turn away anyone who truly needed a place to stay.
Still, she was concerned about having guests now.
At least she didn’t have to worry about Bennett, who was taking it all in stride. As the mayor of Summer Beach, he spent every day at his office. On the weekends, he kept busy with his boat or community events.
He’d done his share around the inn, helping keep it in good repair, even though it was Ivy’s asset. Once, when she’d protested, he said, If I can help make your life easier, why wouldn’t I?
He was definitely a keeper.
Shelly nudged her. “Are you okay?”
Ivy had to trust the process and her team. She swept a hand over her hair. “Sure.”
“Then why do you have that look, Ives?”
Ivy was a little perturbed her sister could read her so well. “What look?”
“See? That look.” Shelly grinned in triumph. “Like you forgot how fabulous this place will be when the work is complete. This is what we’ve needed. It’s what you envisioned the first time you saw this old beast of a place. I still remember standing in the front yard when you had your epiphany about keeping the house and moving in. I was reluctant, but you knew what you wanted.”
“It wasn’t like we had any other place to go.” Ivy chuckled at the memory. “Bennett was shocked, but we made it work for us.”
“No thanks to him in the beginning,” Shelly added, quirking a grin. “He thought he’d made a sale. Still, he turned out okay in the end. Bet you never thought he’d be your future husband.”
“Not for a minute,” Ivy said, slinging an arm around her sister. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Or you, Poppy. You two are the marketing brains.”
Their niece’s delicate face flushed. “I love working here with you two.” Poppy paused, frowning a little. “I’ll sort of miss the old shabbiness, though. I hope it’s not so fancy that guests are afraid to track sand from the beach inside.”
“I want it to be comfortable,” Ivy said. “Only with plumbing that works, lights that don’t flicker, and windows that don’t whistle in the wind.”
Shelly laughed. “That’s true luxury.” Something outside caught her eye, and she peered from the window. “Chief Clarkson and Imani just pulled up.”
“They’re here to help Gilda move,” Ivy said. “Since Jamir started medical school, Imani has extra room.”
Jamir had helped her youngest daughter, Sunny, stay focused on her studies.
In the end, that had paid benefits. Sunny graduated and was awarded a scholarship for a master’s program in hospitality. Now, she was away on a fieldwork assignment, consulting at a major hotel under her professor’s tutelage.
A staccato clatter erupted on the stairs in the foyer.
“Pixie is loose,” Shelly cried.
“I’ll get her,” Ivy said, racing to catch the Chihuahua before she escaped. Pixie and her guardian were relocating during the construction. “Would you direct Clark and Imani round the back to the car court?”
Ivy tried trapping Pixie on the last stairstep, but the dog broke through her clutch. Ivy gave chase.
Pixie round the corner and headed for the music room, leaping over electrical cords with nimble moves. She stopped in front of a wall, sniffed it, and began to bark.
Ivy swept her into her arms. “You almost made a break for it, didn’t you? Silly dog, barking at walls.” Cuddling the shivering little creature, she turned back to Shelly, who’d followed her.
Shelly frowned with concern. “Gilda and Pixie will return when the work is finished, won’t they?”
“They’re like family now,” Ivy said, nodding. “Would you look out for Poppy’s last guest? I need to return Pixie and see how Gilda is doing. She’s feeling unsettled and displaced.”
After Shelly agreed, Ivy climbed the stairs to Gilda’s room.
Keeping a tight hold on Pixie, Ivy peered into the open door.
“Where in the world is your rhinestone collar?” Gilda muttered, rummaging through items strewn across the bed. Her bracelet, heavy with travel charms, jingled with every movement. “I swear I just had it in my hand.”
Ivy suppressed her laughter. “If that belongs to Pixie, why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“Good heavens, I thought she was right beside me. She wriggled out of her collar again.”
“And she made a break for it. Likely for the beach.” Ivy didn’t want to concern Gilda with Pixie’s strange behavior in the music room. “I think Pixie is jealous of Brother Rip’s surfing collie.” She handed the wayward pooch to Gilda and peered under the bed. “I see the collar way in the back. I can reach it for you.”
“Pixie must have hidden it, didn’t you, my sweetikins?” Gilda kissed Pixie’s nose. “She’s so anxious about the move. I need to schedule a therapy session for her.”
Ivy scooted under the bed to retrieve the flashy dog collar. After returning it to Gilda, she surveyed the room, which still wasn’t packed. “The chief and Imani just arrived. Do you need help to finish packing?”
“Oh, goodness. The time has slipped away, what with having to tend to Pixie, who doesn’t understand what’s happening.” Gilda gave Ivy a look of gratitude. “A little help would be wonderful.”
Ivy shut the door to keep Pixie inside and began to fold hoodies before placing them in an open suitcase on the bed. This guest room had been Gilda’s home since the Ridgetop Fire in Summer Beach. It looked bare without her magazine article awards and travel photographs on the walls. Those and the knickknacks she’d collected filled boxes by the door.
Gilda put Pixie down and picked up her phone to make a call. “It’s dead. Now, where did I put my charger?” She looked at every outlet, but didn’t find it.
Ivy saw the tiny Chihuahua dart into the closet. “You might check in there.”
“Pixie!” Gilda called her, and a few moments later, the Chihuahua emerged with a pink charging cord dangling from her mouth like a prize.
“Why, you little thief! Come to Mommy.”
The dog pranced away, clearly enjoying the chase, then skittered under the bed and disappeared.
The door creaked open, and Imani looked inside. “Poppy sent me up. Anything ready to go into the pickup yet?”
Ivy shook her head. “Pixie has been up to her usual tricks.”
The little dog peeked out, looking guilty.
Imani laughed, her warm, throaty chuckle filling the room. “That sassy critter has more personality than most people I know.”
“And better jewelry,” Ivy added, joining in the laughter. “I’ll bet she’s stolen half the contents of this room.”
A voice boomed behind Imani. “Do we have a thief on the premises?” Clark Clarkson, Summer Beach’s Chief of Police and Imani’s boyfriend, stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly filling the frame.
“What can I take now?” he asked, eyeing the stack of half-packed boxes by the door.
Ivy transferred the thick hoodies into the boxes to fill them. “There. Two are ready to go. By the time you return, we’ll have more.”
“My hero,” Imani said, a smile transforming her face. She squeezed his arm affectionately as he bent to hoist the boxes with ease.
“I didn’t realize how much I’d accumulated,” Gilda said. “How long has it been?”
“You moved in right after the fire with just two suitcases.” Gilda lost her home in the fire and decided not to rebuild, saying life was easier and more comfortable here. “We’ll have this done in no time.”
Imani pitched in to help Ivy pack while Gilda emptied drawers. A few minutes later, a whimper drew their attention to the bathroom, where Pixie had created a nest of stolen items: dog toys, a silk scarf, and one of Gilda’s slippers.
“Oh, sweetikins,” Gilda cooed. “Mommy isn’t leaving you. We’ll have a beautiful new room with an ocean view at Auntie Imani’s house.”
Pixie gave her a skeptical look.
Ivy watched the interaction, a knot of worry forming in her chest. Despite the laughter, she was concerned about Gilda’s adjustment. The slightly eccentric writer had become more than a guest; she was family.
And family looked out for one another. Ivy scooped up Pixie’s ill-gotten gains and deposited them into a box.
Clark returned for more boxes, and Imani went with him, carrying the boxes she’d finished packing.
Once they were alone, Ivy continued packing. After a while, she turned to Gilda. “Are you concerned about being comfortable at Imani’s? I know you like to write late into the night, and she’s an early riser.”
Gilda waved away her concern. “I’ve lived in dismal Parisian garrets and splendiferous Italian villas. I once scribbled a travel article from a Mongolian yurt, so I’ll be fine in Imani’s guest room.” The corners of her mouth turned down. “It’s Pixie who’s worried.”
Imani returned as Gilda was talking. “Jamir uses a white noise machine. He swears by it for studying and says it helped him through this first year of med school. I put a new one in your room to take the edge off unfamiliar background noises.”
Ivy felt a rush of affection for her friend’s thoughtfulness. “That sounds helpful.”
Imani nodded at Gilda. “I also put a coffee maker in your room, so you don’t have to emerge until you’re fully caffeinated.”
“Usually sometime after noon,” Gilda said, smiling.
Ivy taped the last carton shut. “Sounds like Imani has thought of everything.”
“Contingency planning is my superpower.” Imani tucked a stray braided lock behind her ear, her expression softening. “Gilda will be fine. We’ll have wine on the deck overlooking the ocean waves and watch the sunset. She can critique my wild wardrobe, and I’ll pretend to understand her articles on traveling lightly.”
Ivy laughed at the vision. “Hope I get an invitation soon.”
These were her people. As different as they were from each other, they had formed a family of choice here in Summer Beach. The inn might be undergoing changes, but the relationships they’d built living together at the inn after the fire were solid.
Ivy walked Gilda to the door of her room. “I hope you’ll return as our first guest when we reopen.”
Gilda glanced back at the room with misty eyes. “I’m counting on it. This old beach house saved me after the fire. I was lost, everything gone. Until a new face in town welcomed us. You didn’t ask questions when I showed up without a reservation.”
Ivy hugged her. “And with a kleptomaniac Chihuahua. We’ve had our good times, and I promise we’ll have many more when you return.”
They went downstairs to the car court with the last of Gilda’s belongings. Ivy watched Gilda and Imani get into the truck with Clark.
Poppy and Shelly joined her, waving as their longest-term guest left. “Feels like the end of an era.”
“She’ll be back,” Shelly said. “Mom always said change is inevitable, but friendship is enduring.”
“I sure miss Mom and Dad,” Ivy said. “They’ll be amazed at the transformation of this place.” They were living their best retired life, sailing around the world together on a long-anticipated bucket trip.
As they watched Clark’s pickup turn onto the street, another vehicle pulled in. It was a vividly painted recreational vehicle. “Could that be our new guest?”
“Probably,” Poppy replied. “She asked if there was a place to park a larger vehicle.”
Shelly let out a laugh. “Oh, my gosh. What the heck is that?”
The artist in Ivy appreciated the unusual paint job. She was even more curious about this new guest now.