Chapter 17
17
B ennett squinted against the bright sunlight as he lined up his putt. The eighteenth hole of the Summer Beach Municipal Golf Course lay before him, a deceptively simple-looking par three hole. The Pacific Ocean created a stunning backdrop beyond the green that rivaled the exclusive Torrey Pines golf course south of them. A breeze carried the scent of salt water and freshly cut grass, rippling the sleeves of his polo shirt.
“Don’t choke now, Mr. Mayor,” Clark Clarkson called out, his booming voice tinged with friendly mockery. “Your entire political career could hinge on this twelve-footer.”
Bennett shot the police chief a wry smile. “Thanks for the added pressure, Clark. Just what I needed.”
He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and swung. The ball rolled smoothly across the green, curving slightly with the contour before dropping satisfyingly into the cup.
Bennett executed a quick bow. “And that, gentlemen, is how it’s done.”
“Pure luck,” Boz grumbled good-naturedly. He pushed his weathered Summer Beach Planning Department cap back over his thick silver hair. “You couldn’t make that shot again if you tried.”
“Want to bet?” Bennett picked up his golf ball to challenge him, but Hal stepped between them with a laugh.
“Let’s save the rematch for next week.” Hal, the most casually dressed of the four despite being the wealthiest, slapped Bennett on the back. “Nice putt, though. You’re improving.”
Bennett bumped his fist in appreciation. “There’s always room for improvement in golf.”
“As in life,” Clark added.
“I won’t argue with that,” Bennett said. “Speaking of life, how’s Imani doing with Gilda at her home?”
“She hardly sees Gilda, but Pixie is running the house.” Clark laughed and shook his head. “Imani loves dogs, though. Good thing, since Pixie has been stealing and stashing things again. She’s a miniature mastermind criminal.”
Boz lined up his putt. “Hope you never have to go up against her.”
“You got that right.” Clark folded his arms. “Make us proud, Boz.”
The other man swung, but the ball veered just shy of the hole. A collective gasp rose from the men as they commiserated with him. “There’s always next week.” Boz grinned and tapped it in.
They returned to the golf cart, Boz taking the wheel while Clark loaded their clubs. Bennett settled into the back with Hal, enjoying this brief respite from his mayoral duties. These Thursday afternoon golf games were a way to maintain friendships while keeping abreast of what was happening in Summer Beach.
As they cruised along the cart path toward the clubhouse, Hal leaned back, his designer sunglasses reflecting the ocean view. “What’s the latest on the inn renovations? Carol mentioned she drove by yesterday, and it’s looking impressively underway.”
“Coming along well,” Bennett said. “The structural work will soon be completed, and then it’s down to finishes and furnishings. Ivy is managing the process well, and Reed is a rockstar contractor, like his dad.”
“It’s pretty generous of you two to open the public spaces to the community,” Hal said. “Doesn’t that infringe on your privacy? I can’t imagine having people wandering in and out of your home all day.”
“It’s an inn, so that’s expected, and we like serving the community.” Bennett shrugged, watching a red-tailed hawk circling above the bluffs. “Part of the deal for the property’s preservation is maintaining public access to certain areas, given the inn’s historical significance.”
“I enjoy the steady stream of guests,” Bennett continued. “At times it’s a very full house, especially without a library or other community meeting areas for residents. Ivy and her team manage the logistics, but more often, they’re acting like traffic cops. We have book clubs, students with tutors, children’s story times, people working remotely on laptops.”
“So that’s where people have gone since we lost the library. I’ve also noticed you can hardly get a table at Java Beach anymore.” Hal raised his brow. “Doesn’t that impact the ability to host events like weddings and reunions for paying guests?”
“It has. Still, it’s what we agreed to.” As a music producer, Hal was quick to understand the business implications.
“But that was before all the library patrons had to transition to the inn,” Hal added. “Sounds chaotic.”
“It can be,” Bennett admitted. “I wish we could have funded a new library in town. It would take the pressure off the inn and give the community what it really needs.”
He glanced at Hal, then quickly added, “I’m not angling for donations, by the way. You’ve already contributed generously to the preservation fund.”
Hal waved a dismissive hand. “I wasn’t thinking you were hitting me up, though I’m open to the idea. The arts are important to Carol and me. That fire in the adjoining space was bad luck for the library.”
Clark took in the course. “Doesn’t seem fair that we still have a great golf course, and the kids are scrambling for books and places to study.”
The cart bounced as Boz navigated a rut in the path. He glanced at Bennett. “You found a temporary solution, right? I heard about the bookmobile.”
Bennett nodded. “I managed to locate some discretionary funds to contract for a part-time bookmobile. It’s not ideal, but it will help the community. I’m pretty sure the council will agree.”
Clark turned in his seat. “That bookmobile was a hit. When it was parked outside Java Beach last weekend, there was a line every time I drove past. I’m glad to welcome Libby into the community. She seems to know her stuff.”
“She does,” Bennett agreed. “Ivy has already started planning an annual book festival to raise funds for the library.”
“That will take a while,” Hal said.
“She’s thinking long term.” Bennett told them about the old set of plans for a library and art museum they’d discovered in the house. “Reed knows an architect who can update them to code.”
Boz cleared his throat, his expression thoughtful as he steered the cart into the parking area. “You know, there’s an empty site just off Main Street that might be available. It’s part of a large estate that’s been in probate for a long time. It’s a good location that’s within walking distance from most of the village.”
Bennett raised an eyebrow. “The old Gutierrez parcel? I heard about it from a real estate colleague, but I didn’t think it was on the market.”
“It’s not, officially,” Boz replied, easing the cart to a stop. “But word is the family’s ready to sell once the legal issues surrounding the estate are settled. Might be worth keeping an eye on.”
The men climbed out of the cart and gathered their golf clubs. Bennett considered this information, mentally calculating what properties like that were going for these days. Even with his real estate background, he knew the numbers wouldn’t work with the city’s current budget constraints.
Hal seemed to read his mind. “You might want to broaden your thinking when it comes to fundraising. A capital campaign could work if you get the right people involved.” He paused, then added casually, “Carol might appear at a fundraiser if she’s available. She has a new tour coming up. Next year, we would consider a more substantial contribution.”
“The immediate need will be to stock the bookmobile. The librarian who runs it, Libby, has been running it as a private venture.”
“Why is that?” Hal asked.
“She lost her job at another library during cutbacks but loves what she does. Pretty genius, if you ask me.”
“I’ll call Tyler,” Hal said. “The least we can do is help stock it until other plans are developed. Libraries serve a vital role, and it’s an embarrassment that we don’t have one.” He shook his head. “Carol and I struggled when we were young. I spent a lot of time studying in a library, needing the quiet space I couldn’t find at home. And folks over fifty like me need books to keep their minds active.”
Hal was right. For every year that passed without a library, kids might fall behind in their studies. Young mothers need the story time break to get out of the house. And small business owners need the wealth of information and resources to support their families and employees.
It wasn’t that Bennett didn’t think Ivy could manage this effort. It was a question of time.
She was right to be upset. Many small towns were losing their libraries, and he didn’t want Summer Beach to be among them.
“I appreciate that, Hal. Really. Let me talk to Ivy about the festival they’re planning. Maybe we could expand it into something larger.”
Clark clapped a hand on Bennett’s shoulder. “Just let me know when and where. The department can help with security and logistics.”
“And I can fast-track any permits the library might need,” Boz added. “It’s for a good cause.”
As they walked toward the clubhouse, Bennett felt lighter. He’d come to the golf course looking for a break from problem solving. Instead, he found allies in a challenge that had been troubling him and Ivy for months.
Sometimes, a mayor’s work took place in unexpected locations, like the back nine of a golf course on a sunny afternoon.
He didn’t want to take anything from Ivy’s efforts or risk her thinking he doubted her abilities.
Far from it.
He hoped she’d take this news in the spirit of cooperation for the good of the community. They still had a long way to go before the new library was built.