Chapter 7
7
T hat evening after Ivy changed and slid into bed, Bennett wrapped his arms around her. “That was nice of you to give the rest of the food to Sophie and David. And to suggest they study here.”
“I’m glad you didn’t mind. They needed a quiet space with their tutor. The scholarships they need to apply for will depend on good grades.”
“Sweetheart, I admire what you do for the community and the passion you have for projects. But I worry about you becoming overextended and passing up paid guest events because of community commitments here. Be careful that you don’t overdo your service to folks. You’re still running a business.”
“That only happened once. Maybe twice, but everyone understood. We made alternate arrangements.” Ivy couldn’t help adding, “I was thinking about the library situation?—”
Bennett’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “We’ve been over this.”
“I know, but with the bookmobile here, it reminds me how much the community needs?—”
Bennett cut in, his tone gentle but firm. “We can’t change that, even for a good cause.”
Ivy tried again. “We talked about a fundraiser, like the gala we gave for Viola.”
“You were the only one willing to do it.” With a sigh, he took her hand. “This renovation has turned out to be more time consuming than intended. Reed and his crews are all working overtime. There are only so many hours in the day, even for you.”
“As I watched Daisy starting to walk, I thought about her and all the children in Summer Beach who will grow up without a library to explore. What if the city made an offer to Libby to stay and provide her bookmobile as city service.”
Bennett ran a hand over his jaw. “That’s an interesting idea, but?—”
“No money, right?” Ivy sighed.
“I was going to say she’d need to submit a proposal. We don’t know anything about her or her work beyond what we saw today. I liked her, but she seemed evasive at dinner.”
“You picked up on that, too?”
“I could feel the vibes you were giving off.” He drew a hand over her hair. “I’ve found that when I push too hard on projects fraught with challenges, it might not be the right time for it. I worry you’ll overextend yourself, that’s all.”
“And yet, you’ve always said you’re proud of my resourcefulness.”
Bennett hesitated before nodding. “Okay, point taken. Just know the city budget has its limitations.”
“Good thing I’m resourceful, then.”
“This is one more reason I love you,” Bennett said, grinning.
“I hope you never run out of reasons,” she said, kissing him softly. “Because I sure won’t.”
She loved that they could talk about their concerns now. They’d had to work on that when they first married.
“I’ll talk to Libby over breakfast,” she said. “If not her, maybe there’s another solution.” There had to be one; she just hadn’t found it yet.
On the other hand, her husband had a point. She had pushed so hard on the library project. In the end, it didn’t seem like it was meant to be. Maybe having an occasional visit from a traveling bookmobile was the best solution.
For now.
Ivy thought about the community’s limitations and Bennett’s concern for her. Still, she was passionate about filling this need for Summer Beach residents at some point.
With only two guests in the dining room for breakfast, Ivy gave them extra attention. She chatted with Dr. Kempner, who shared a story from her service as a physician in the Navy.
“I remember it like it was yesterday,” Meryl said, her eyes suddenly misting. “Some of my former colleagues are organizing a reunion now.” Dabbing at the corner of her eyes, she sniffed back emotion. “Sorry, we lost one of us. He was always trying to get us together, but what with families and our minor aches and pains, we never quite managed. None of us knew he was ill. We were too late for him.”
“But not for each other,” Ivy said.
Meryl nodded with a wistful smile. “We’re mostly retired now, so we plan to meet more often.”
“You’re young to be retired.” Meryl didn’t seem but a few years older. Ivy couldn’t imagine not having the to-do lists she lived by every day. “How do you fill your time?”
“I do a lot of volunteering. I’m planning to start a charity for kids and teenagers who need guidance or a hand up.”
“That’s a wonderful idea.”
Meryl told her she would be leaving later in the day, and Ivy told her how much she had enjoyed having her. They chatted a little more until Ivy excused herself to check on Libby.
Ivy held a coffee pot aloft. “Would you like a refill on your coffee?”
Libby looked up from her book and nodded. Looking contemplative, she asked, “All the work you’re doing here must be costing a fortune.”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“How are you managing to pay for it all?”
“We’re making do.”
“How, exactly?”
Ivy was a little taken aback at that. “We’re resourceful.”
“I don’t mean to pry,” Libby said quickly, backing off her inquisitiveness. “I’m curious by nature, so I always wonder how entrepreneurs manage to do what they do.”
“Is that your goal someday?”
“Sort of. Did you take out a loan or stumble into a huge inheritance?”
“Neither.” Ivy relaxed a little into the conversation. Libby seemed socially awkward, so maybe she meant no harm. “We raised money for the work. This property is important to the community.”
A thoughtful look filled Libby’s face. “I imagine this place has a lot of history.”
“It sure does.”
Resting her chin in her hand, Libby seemed to choose her words with a certain nonchalance. “I’ve heard about Amelia Erickson.”
Ivy wasn’t surprised. “She was a fascinating woman who stood up for what she believed in. We hosted a gala fundraiser here to preserve the historical importance of her work.”
Libby’s face brightened. “Now that you mention it, I think I saw some photos from the event.”
Ivy nodded at that. The inn and the fundraising gala that Viola had helped organize had received widespread press. Photos from the event were shared all over the internet.
Thankfully, she hadn’t worn that fluffy pink prom dress she’d hastily picked up at the thrift shop; that grave lapse of judgment would have been immortalized on social media. Her mother and Bennett had surprised her with an elegant, understated outfit perfect for the occasion.
Libby leaned forward with a conspiratorial look. “I heard the Ericksons earmarked money for other buildings in Summer Beach.”
That was news to Ivy. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“Since you bought the house from the estate, were you curious to see if she left other properties or projects in her estate?”
Ivy shifted on her feet. “My late husband bought the house. I didn’t know about it until after he died. I don’t talk about that much.”
Libby looked surprised. “Oh. Do you know where the rest of her wealth went?”
Ivy was growing uncomfortable with the conversation centered on money. “As I understand, everything went to charity.”
“But what about that necklace you sold and the other jewelry and art you’ve found? Have you looked for anything else?”
Ivy had heard these questions before from other modern day treasure hunters. She needed to set Libby straight in case she was entertaining the idea. “Most of the items we found belonged to other people. We’ve been over every spot in this house, especially with the renovation underway. I assure you, there is nothing else. I hope that’s not why you’re here.”
Libby’s cheeks reddened, and she mumbled an apology. “I’ve heard some rumors, that’s all.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Ivy said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to tend to something.”
Ivy hurried to the kitchen, where she saw her niece. “I thought you would sleep in.”
“Good morning,” Poppy said. “Turns out I couldn’t sleep very late. Do we have any of that homemade yogurt left?”
“In the fridge.” Seeing Poppy reach for one of the twin turquoise refrigerators, she added, “The yogurt is in Bertie, not Bert. I’ll have one, too.”
Poppy opened the door and pulled out two small cups of yogurt. “Do you plan to replace these vintage beauties with sleek stainless-steel models?”
“I thought about it, but the commercial size we’d need would be expensive. As long as these units are working, we could use those funds for something else. What do you think?”
“I think you’re right.” Poppy handed her a yogurt. “I’d miss these. They’re so cute.”
“Then I’ll have them serviced.” She sat on a stool across from Poppy at the long kitchen island. They stirred honey and cinnamon into the tart yogurt.
She hadn’t planned many renovations to the kitchen or their quarters other than necessary updates to electrical, plumbing, and other systems. The large kitchen was likely designed for the Erickson’s frequent entertaining, so it was suitable for their purposes, too. After Bennett surprised her with a dishwasher, there wasn’t much else she needed, other than additional electrical outlets and updated fixtures for the sink.
She would save money where she could in case there were unforeseen overages.
If there was enough left over, she planned to service the ovens and regrout the tile. She liked the house the way it was, except for the updates needed. It was comfortable, just as a beach inn should be.
Although dependable hot water and electrical circuits that didn’t trip when she plugged in a hairdryer were huge improvements.
Poppy looked up. “Not having guests will seem odd. I would say quiet, but we know it won’t be with Reed’s crew banging around. How are our last guests doing?”
“The doctor is fine. She’s going to the marina with her family to join Mitch on his afternoon coastal cruise.”
“And our bookmobile lady?”
“Libby asked some odd questions.” Ivy told her about the conversation.
“Sounds like she’s done her homework. But you felt uncomfortable?”
“I hope she’s not here to see what she might find.”
The rear door slammed shut, and Shelly strode in. “Who are you talking about?”
Ivy looked up. “The librarian.”
“If she’s one of those searching for hidden treasure around here, I’ll show her the door myself.” Shelly made a face as she kicked off her sneakers. “Tell her we beat her to it. And sadly, there’s nothing else here.” Shelly slid her feet into the gardening clogs she kept by the back door. “We’ll have to figure out how to make squillions on our own. And I’m starting with an overhaul of the vegetable garden for spring.”
“I can film the process for you,” Poppy offered. “I’m posting our progress on social media. I hope people will be excited to visit to see the finished result.”
Shelly glanced up. “When can we start taking reservations for late spring?”
Ivy wasn’t entirely sure. “I don’t want to disappoint people if the construction runs longer. Old houses often have hidden problems that only surface during renovation.”
Shelly grinned. “Are you saying we might find skeletons in the closet? I don’t mind if they were bankers with pockets full of cash.” She snapped her fingers. “Or some of those guys that ran the gambling barge off the coast during Prohibition. If the maid hid silver coins in her wall, maybe someone else tucked away gold.”
Laughing, Ivy swatted her sister on the sleeve. “Come on, Shells, I’m serious about our guest.”
Poppy nodded as she scraped the last of the yogurt from the bowl. “We should watch her.”
“She seemed okay to me,” Shelly said. “She’s a librarian, not a serial killer.”
Poppy shook her head. “Technically, she could be both. Highly unlikely, unless an awful lot of books go missing. That might set her off.”
“Sounds like you’ve been reading mysteries.” Shelly poked her niece in the ribs. “Like The Case of the Lethal Librarian. Good title, right?”
Ivy laughed at the idea. She could always count on Shelly to bring the humor.
“Maybe I’ll write that someday,” Shelly said thoughtfully. “As for now, I’m going to harvest more lemons and plant tomatoes.” Shelly grabbed a tart kumquat and tossed it into her mouth.
“What about the spring flowers you usually plant around the perimeter?” Ivy asked.
“With Reed’s workers trampling the flower beds and sawdust flying everywhere?” Shelly shook her head. “I’ll wait until the construction storm passes. It’s that or spend every day screaming at them.”
With a chuckle, Poppy left to check on their guests, leaving Ivy with Shelly.
Shelly eyed her. “Are your instincts tingling?”
“I just have a lot on my mind.” Ivy chewed her lip in thought.
“That’s not what I asked, but if that’s the way you want to be?—”
“Libby asks a lot of questions, that’s all. And her replies are vague,” Ivy added.
“Maybe my book should be The Case of the Too Curious Librarian Who Gets Wacked .” While Ivy laughed, Shelly added, “You can take me out of the Big Apple, but you’ll never get rid of my New York attitude. I adopted that, and it stays with me for good.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Ivy said, grinning. “But I can’t shake the feeling that Libby is looking for more than she’s letting on.”
Still, what if Shelly was right? Ivy’s skin crawled as she thought about it.