Chapter 16
16
I vy rose early the following day, even before Bennett. Having promised to send her bookkeeper bank statements for her financial reports and tax return, she threw on a pair of jeans with a lacy blouse and went straight to her office.
Bennett stopped by on his way to City Hall. “You were up early.” He bent to kiss her.
“Bev needs my bank statements and cash expenses. I need to gather all the documents, so I figured I should do this before Reed’s construction crew arrives. The noise level will escalate fast, making it difficult to concentrate.”
“You might have to work elsewhere,” Bennett said.
“If it gets bad enough, I’ll do that.” She kissed him goodbye before he left.
After finishing her task, she assembled the digital documents in an email to her bookkeeper. I believe this is everything, Bev. Let me know if you need anything else .
Once sent, she closed her email program, and her gaze settled on the old, torn receipt she’d tacked to her corkboard. Something about it nagged at her. She stared at the address scrawled on the back with a fountain pen and the string of numbers underneath.
She unpinned the slip of paper, studying it again. The address didn’t match any location in Germany. Why would Amelia have had an address in Switzerland at that time?
And why didn’t she build the library and art museum in Summer Beach?
For a dreadful illness to have struck down such a vibrant, determined woman in the middle of her life was a tragedy. What else might Amelia Erickson have accomplished given more time?
Ivy shook her head, realizing that question applied to everyone on earth. Carpe diem , as her husband said just yesterday. Seize the day, every day.
What if everyone lived like that?
She typed the address into her search engine again, and once more, it brought up a business district location in Zurich. This time, Ivy clicked on the street view and zoomed in.
As the image came into view, her lips parted.
“It’s a bank,” she whispered, leaning closer to the screen.
She clicked through several links, scanning for information. The bank was still in operation. In fact, it was one of the oldest financial institutions in Switzerland and had been in business since the late 1800s.
She picked up the torn paper again, looking at the string of digits she had assumed was a telephone number.
Then she thought of the bank statements she’d just emailed to her bookkeeper. She ran her fingers over the numbers as if divining their meaning.
What if these numbers are an account number?
The possibility sent a thrill through her. The Ericksons might have had a bank account there.
It wasn’t implausible. Amelia and Gustav had traveled extensively in Europe before the war for art acquisitions. They had connections and resources.
Switzerland had been a neutral territory leading up to and during the Second World War. A quick search on the computer confirmed this. However, it also seemed that it was illegal for German citizens to have Swiss bank accounts during the war, even punishable by death.
Ivy shivered at the consequences. She wondered if that applied to those living outside of the country.
But that was a long time ago. Amelia had returned to Switzerland to live at the dementia care facility until she died. Everything would have been included in her estate.
Outside, the sudden sound of jackhammers jangled her thoughts.
Reed’s crew was right on schedule. Ivy pressed her palms to her ears as she looked through the open door. They were breaking up concrete to make repairs. The ear-splitting cacophony reverberated through the house, making the old windows shudder in their wooden frames.
“This is impossible.” But necessary. She would bet her last guest wasn’t sleeping through this racket.
She reached for her phone and tapped a quick text to Libby: Good morning! Need coffee and quiet? Meet me at Java Beach.
The reply came immediately: On my way.
Ivy also texted Poppy and Shelly before shoving her notebook into a canvas satchel and heading out. She took the beach path to avoid the construction also taking place in the front.
Once away from the inn, the noise of the jackhammers receded. Ivy exhaled with relief at the rhythmic sound of waves washing against the shore. In the distance, she saw the bookmobile parked outside of Java Beach.
Libby was waiting, her cotton dress fluttering in the breeze. The younger woman waved when she spotted Ivy approaching.
Libby greeted her and opened the door to the coffee shop. “Now I understand why you were concerned about me staying longer. Reed’s crew is so intense. I threw everything into my vehicle and shot out of there.”
“Breakfast is on me for that.” Ivy queued up in the line of people waiting for Mitch’s coffee and breakfast specialties.
Everything smelled delicious. With beach reggae music playing in the background, Mitch managed the coffee bar while his employees took orders and ran the kitchen. When he saw Ivy, he nodded to her. “Shelly is on her way here with Daisy.”
Ivy was glad to hear that. “It was too loud to work at the inn.”
Just then, her phone dinged with a message from Bennett. As she read it, she smiled. He’d kept his promise.
While they waited for their turn, Ivy turned to Libby. “How did your meeting with Imani go?”
Libby’s shoulders relaxed. “Very well. She’s so smart. She came up with a plan, and she alerted Chief Clarkson. As long as my ex is out of my life, I’ll be happy.”
“That’s good.” Ivy had been worried about that. Especially since Reed seemed to have fallen for Libby. She didn’t want him to be in danger.
They ordered mocha coffees and breakfast croissants for the table and found a place to sit. The doors were open to the beach, and sunshine streamed in, chasing the morning chill.
While their steaming coffee cooled, Ivy focused her thoughts. “Now that Imani is going to help you, there’s an idea you might be interested in.”
Libby leaned forward, her expression alert.
Ivy gestured toward her phone. “Bennett just confirmed that the city has some funds it could dedicate to your bookmobile service for residents. You could still visit surrounding communities every other week if you wanted, and there is a budget to buy new books, too. Would that interest you?”
Libby blinked a few times. “For real? I’d love that.”
“As a contractor to the city, you’d need to fill out an application.” Ivy paused. “I hope that’s not a problem for you.”
“I was only hiding from my ex. I have a resume, references, and can order my university transcripts.”
“That’s perfect,” Ivy said. “You’ll have to make a presentation to the city council, and Bennett says they’re eager to meet you. Are you up for that?”
“This is my dream come true,” Libby replied, pressing a hand to her heart.
Ivy smiled at her response. “I hope you’re ready for a bigger dream. Summer Beach needs a library, and I’d like to make that happen. We plan to host an annual book festival and fundraiser to build the library Amelia Erickson envisioned.”
Libby’s face lit with excitement. “I’d love to volunteer.”
“I think you could do more. We’d like you to help organize it.” Ivy held up a hand before Libby could interrupt. “The community would pay you for your time, of course. It could be part of your contractor agreement with the city.”
A smile spread across Libby’s face. “When I worked at my last library, I participated in literary events and festivals. I was also the liaison for the friends of the library fundraising group, so I have a lot of ideas I can share.”
Ivy was glad to hear that. From the first step into Libby’s bookmobile, Ivy could tell she was a skilled librarian. She’d observed her knowledge and love of books and saw how well she connected with the public. Her experience in events and fundraising was a bonus.
“Thank you for this opportunity,” Libby said, her eyes shining with gratitude. “I won’t let you down.”
Ivy picked up her mug and tapped Libby’s. “You’re on your way to being part of Summer Beach. I think the community will be lucky to have you.”
“Do you think I might have a shot at being part of the library when it’s built?”
Ivy appreciated the younger woman’s ambition for service. “I think you’ll have plenty of time to prove yourself.”
Grinning, Libby sipped her coffee. “This means I’ll be able to stay at the campground for a while. Chief Clarkson says it’s gated and has security, so I’ll feel much safer there. Maybe I can get a small place soon.”
“Did you meet our Chief of Police?”
“Imani introduced us. Chief Clarkson saw Imani in the village. He said they’ll keep an extra eye on me with regular patrols.”
Despite the reassurance and noticeable relief, Ivy still detected a note of lingering concern, which was expected. She hoped Imani would work quickly to help Libby put the past behind her.
“If you’d like, I can help you practice your presentation before the city council. Many people want to see you stay in Summer Beach.”
“I’ve pitched projects before,” Libby said, folding her hands. “I appreciate your support, though.”
Ivy was glad Libby was getting the help she needed from Imani. She saw how enterprising and hard-working the younger woman was.
Just then, Shelly’s voice rang out. “Hey, hey, double trouble has arrived.” She whisked toward them with Daisy on her hip.
Poppy hurried behind them. “She means them, not me.”
“Oh, hey.” Shelly grinned. “Then that makes us triple trouble.”
“Have a seat,” Ivy said, smiling. She made room at the table for everyone. “I ordered breakfast for all of us.”
Shelly plopped down with her little girl and brought a bib and a banana from the diaper bag. “Thanks. Daisy is always hungry.”
Poppy leaned her laptop bag by the chair and sat next to Libby. “This was a good idea to come here. It’s impossible to hear yourself think at the inn. My brain’s been jackhammered to mush.”
Ivy laughed, nodding. “I’ll check in with Reed to see how it’s going. He said he’ll call me if anything is urgent.” She pressed her lips together, grinning at Libby.
Shelly narrowed her eyes. “What are you cooking up, Ives? I know that look. Spill the tea, girl. What’s going on?”
“If all goes well, and I’m sure it will, Libby will be staying in Summer Beach with her bookmobile.”
“That’s great news,” Poppy said, congratulating Libby. “How did you manage that?”
“Bennett worked it out,” Ivy replied. “And that’s not all. We’re going to start an annual book festival.” She quickly outlined the concept to Poppy and Shelly. “Libby will be part of the team, and she’s planned events before.”
“A literary festival in Summer Beach?” Poppy’s eyes sparkled. “People here will love that. And it will probably draw visitors.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.” Looking up, Ivy saw Mitch approaching, his tray laden with food.
“Make room for breakfast.” Mitch placed the tray in the middle of the table. “Hey, babe,” he said to Shelly. “I brought Daisy’s favorite, too. Scrambled eggs just the way she likes them. I let them cool off first.”
“Da!” Daisy exclaimed when Mitch put the plate in front of her. She plunged her little hands into the eggs and shoved a handful into her mouth. “Mmm!”
“Oh, Daisy-cakes,” Shelly said, whipping out a napkin while everyone laughed. “You eat with such gusto.”
“We should all enjoy our food as much as she does,” Mitch said, chuckling. “A cappuccino is calling my name.” He kissed Shelly and Daisy on the cheeks. “See you later, sweethearts.”
Watching Mitch be so loving toward Shelly and their little girl brought a smile to Ivy’s face. She’d been worried about her sister’s choices in men for years, but Shelly and Mitch were a good match. She hoped Libby would be as fortunate here.
They all began to eat, chatting about ideas for the book festival as they did.
“When are you thinking of holding this event?” Shelly asked. “I hope we don’t have to wait until the inn is complete.”
“We have more time now before the inn reopens,” Poppy said, reaching for a blueberry muffin. “Let’s plan it now and start small. How about holding it next month?”
Ivy nodded, her mind racing with logistics. “If we involve the city, which we should, we might use the main beach. I’m sure we could do enough to generate interest and some funds.”
Libby shook her head. “If the wind blows, that much sand wouldn’t be good for books. I have to be careful of that in the bookmobile.”
“Good point.” Shelly wiped Daisy’s chin. “How about the new park at the old Seabreeze Shores Airfield?”
“Excellent idea,” Ivy said, nodding. “Libby could park her bookmobile on the old runway the park is built around. Let’s check on that.”
Libby’s eyes brightened. “I know several top authors who might participate on short notice, too. They have incredibly supportive fans, and I can hardly keep their books in.”
“Alright, next month it is.” Ivy gazed around the table at faces mirroring her excitement. Sometimes the best things happened when you didn’t overthink them.
“Let’s do this,” Shelly said, swaying with Daisy.
Ivy opened the calendar on her phone. “Poppy, will you check the community calendar and find a date that doesn’t conflict with other events?”
“On it.” Poppy pulled her computer from her bag.
Ivy flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. “Let’s brainstorm fundraising ideas. What else could we do besides charge nominal admission and vendor booth fees?”
“What about a read-a-thon?” Libby suggested. “It’s like a marathon or a walkathon. People pledge donations for pages read. Teachers might even give kids class credit. That way, everyone feels involved.”
“I love that.” Ivy jotted a note to contact the principal and teachers she knew in Summer Beach. Her mind was racing with possibilities. “How about a Blind Date with a Book sale?”
Shelly rested her chin in her hand. “Reminds me of my dating app disaster. What is that?”
Poppy laughed. “People wrap up their favorite books with a few tantalizing clues on the outside and sell or auction them. Buyers choose based on the description without knowing the title.”
“I like it,” Shelly said between bites of her croissant breakfast sandwich. “That’s way better than my blind dates were. At least with a book, if you don’t like it, you can close it and walk away.”
“Got it.” Ivy scribbled more notes, her handwriting growing messier with speed.
Libby leaned in. “A story time for grown-ups with beach blanket readings from authors.”
“Bookmaking for kids,” Shelly said, holding up a hand. “Not the betting kind. The coloring kind.”
Ivy made a face. “I figured.”
“How about a banned books trivia contest?” Libby added, “With books like To Kill a Mocking Bird and The Great Gatsby? ”
Ivy looked up in surprise. “On the list, for sure.”
Shelly drummed her fingers. “Everyone likes a bake sale.”
“Sounds good, too.” Poppy looked up from her computer calendar. “The last weekend next month is available. Should we go with it?”
They all compared their calendars and agreed. It was the only open date for months.
Ivy held up her hand. “All in favor of supporting the first annual Summer Beach Bookfest, raise your hand.”
Along with the others, Shelly shot up her hand. “The Bookfest is on.”
Optimism surged through Ivy. This will work. The festival would introduce people to the bookmobile and the library fundraising campaign. It was a step toward progress for the community. They could plan this while Reed and his skilled trades brought the inn into the new century.
Ivy read off at their growing list, and those around the table volunteered to manage different tasks.
As they were discussing more ideas, Ivy’s phone rang, interrupting their planning session. Reed’s name flashed on the screen. Her nephew rarely called unless it was necessary.
“Everything okay there?”
Power tools sounded behind Reed’s voice. “I found something you’ll want to see right away. Can you come now?”
“What is it?” she asked, her chest tightening.
“It’s better if you see it. How soon can you make it?”
“Give me ten minutes.” She closed her notebook. “I’m leaving Java Beach now.”
Poppy leaned forward. “Is everything alright?”
“Reed found something strange.” Ivy tucked her notebook into her bag. “But you can all stay here and keep talking.”
“How strange?” Shelly asked, cleaning Daisy’s hands with a wipe. “Like ‘I found a weird nest of spiders’ strange or ‘we found a body and need to call the police’ strange?”
Ivy shuddered. “I hope it’s neither one.”
“Do you want us to come with you?” Poppy asked.
Ivy hesitated, then shook her head. “Let me see what’s going on first. I’ll let you know.”
Wondering what Reed had discovered, Ivy hurried back to the inn, her sneakers slapping the sidewalk in triple time. As she neared the house, she slowed, gasping for air. She pressed a hand to her throbbing heart. Now wasn’t the time for a cardio workout. What was wrong with her?
She paused to catch her breath. Hyperventilating in the street wouldn’t be a good look for the mayor’s wife.
Take it easy. Pressing a hand to her forehead, Ivy prepared herself for what awaited her.
The inn was more than a hundred years old. Had Reed found structural instability that would double the cost of repairs?
Or were Shelly’s comments more accurate? She had heard of skeletons found in old structures. Or maybe he’d unearthed Indigenous artifacts or dinosaur tracks. Her stomach lurched at the potential delay any of these discoveries might cause.
If the inn didn’t reopen in time, her cash flow would suffer. She would make do with less income, but she didn’t expect anyone else who worked there to do that.
Not anymore.
Shelly and Mitch had a baby to provide for now. Poppy was building a life, and the part-time housekeeper and bookkeeper also depended on their wages. And Sunny still needed financial help while she was finishing her graduate program.
Someday, her youngest would support herself, but that day wasn’t here yet. Thankfully, Misty was self-supporting with her acting career. Her eldest daughter was so busy she rarely had time to visit, though they spoke a few minutes nearly every day.
Her forehead felt damp. Was this a panic attack?
No. The sun was warm, and she’d been racing, that was all. Whatever Reed found, well, she would handle it. Just as she always had.
But maybe it is.
She drew a deep breath and resumed walking at a slower pace until she reached the house.
As she approached the front door, footsteps exploded behind her. Spooked by her thoughts, she whirled around.
Poppy was out of breath from running. “We decided we can’t let you walk into a potential disaster by yourself, Aunt Ivy.”
Behind her, Libby toted Shelly’s baby bag, her cowboy boots thudding on the stone walkway.
Shelly was last, with Daisy clutching her neck gleefully at the excitement. “All for one and one for all. That’s how we roll, Ives. Hope I didn’t scare you by talking about spiders and dead bodies. Although they would be long decayed.”
Ivy had to laugh. “Only a little. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Maybe it’s just a water leak,” Poppy said brightly. “We’ve had plenty of those. They’re not too bad.”
“My vote is on raccoons in the attic.” Shelly shuddered. “Or rats.”
Ivy shook her head. “We have guest rooms up there now.”
“Not above your place over the garage.” Shelly grinned and bounced her little girl.
“You’re still awful.” Ivy wrinkled her nose at her sister’s flippant remarks.
Daisy squealed with delight at the face Ivy made, and they all laughed.
Shaking her finger, Ivy said, “If you don’t watch out, she’s going to grow up just like you.”
“I can’t help it.” Shelly laughed and swatted Ivy’s shoulder. “Is that so bad?”
“I hate to say it, but I hope you never lose that.” Ivy meant it, though she still poked her sister. “Come on. We might as well face whatever it is.” She gestured for them to follow.
Ivy turned back to the grand old structure, scrutinizing it for any visible signs of disaster. Unable to contain herself, she burst through the front door, her heart hammering against her ribs again. “Reed?” she called out, her voice echoing through the foyer.
“In your office.”
Ivy rushed down the hallway toward the library where they worked. The others were close behind.
Wearing jeans and work boots, Reed stood in front of her desk, his usually calm demeanor heightened with anticipation. He held something in his hand.
She rushed forward. “What is it?”
Reed held up an old slip of paper, yellowed with age and torn at the top. For a moment, his attention was drawn to Libby, and he smiled at her before continuing.
“Hope you don’t mind my snooping around in here, Aunt Ivy. I had to see if this lined up.” He aligned what he’d found below the paper she’d tacked to the corkboard until the torn edges meshed.
“They fit,” she said, even more curious now. A perfect match.
“Like Cinderella’s shoe,” Shelly added in awe. “What does it say?”
Reed handed the paper to Ivy. “You should read it.”
She took the paper from him with trembling fingers. Reaching for the reading glasses on her desk, she cleared her throat, preparing to read the faded fountain pen script. “It says, ‘Funds on deposit for the Summer Beach Library and Art Museum.’”
Her breath caught. “Oh, my goodness,” she whispered. That string of numbers. She looked up to those surrounding her. “This is proof that, once upon a time anyway, funds were designated for Amelia’s vision.”
Shelly’s eyes widened. “Could they still be there?”
“Highly doubtful.” Ivy smiled wistfully, her chest warming at the thought. “That was such a long time ago. I don’t know why this makes me so satisfied, but it does. It confirms another dream of Amelia’s that I want to fulfill.”
She lowered the paper. Not just want to fulfill; no, she felt utterly compelled to. Perhaps by the presence that still lingered here.
Not that she would admit that, especially to Shelly.
Poppy dipped her chin. “That’s because Amelia Erickson had noble ideas for this area she loved.”
Libby spoke up, her eyes flashing with excitement. “This aligns with her quote from that article I found.”
Ivy nodded slowly, recalling her conversation with Nan and Arthur weeks ago. Twice confirmed now. Three times if she counted their discovery.
There was no doubt in her mind. Though decades in the process, Summer Beach would have its library someday.
Amelia Erickson would see to that.
And so would Ivy.