Chapter 19
19
T he umbrella over Ivy’s table at the Oceanview Cafe cast dappled shadows across her notebook as she tapped her pencil, waiting for an international phone call to connect.
However, the call went straight to voice mail, so she left a message for Lea Martin, Amelia’s great-niece. As she hung up, a shadow crossed her table.
“Well, well. What are you doing here?”
Ivy looked up to see her sister Shelly standing beside her table, sunglasses pushed over her windblown hair, a shopping bag dangling from her wrist. “I could ask the same of you.”
“Java Beach isn’t good enough for you anymore?” Shelly slid into the chair across from Ivy without waiting for an invitation. “The gang’s all there working on the Bookfest plan. I just left.”
Ivy closed her notebook. “I figured you, Poppy, and Libby had it under control. I needed a quiet space to make a few calls. How’s it going on the project?”
“It’s going to be fabulous,” Shelly said, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she set her shopping bag down. “We’ve already got half the town involved. Libby is amazing. She has authors lined up, and Poppy is working her event-planning magic. She constructed a master spreadsheet. It’s going to come together very quickly.”
“That’s great. What have you done with Daisy?”
“Darla stole her,” Shelly replied. “Brought a stroller and is parading her around town to all her friends. Just like a true grandma. I took advantage of the break to run some errands and was heading back when I spotted you. Since when do you hang out here by yourself, looking mysterious behind your dark sunglasses?”
Ivy lowered her sunshades. “Like I said, I needed to make some phone calls.”
“About what?” Shelly leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with interest.
“I’m trying to find out if there might be a dormant bank account in Switzerland and how to pursue it.”
Shelly’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you think we could?”
“I’ve been researching, and there are still unclaimed accounts from the war years. The question is how to go about claiming one. We can’t show up waving an old piece of paper.”
Shelly rubbed her hands together. “This sounds like something out of a movie. Numbered accounts and all that. Do you really think there might be something there?”
“Maybe. If that’s a bank account number, and if it still exists. And if it’s in one of the Erickson’s names.”
Shelly stared at her for a moment. “Look, I’m the first to think about the money, but in this case, it was so long ago.” Shaking her head, she reached across the table and squeezed Ivy’s hand. “I can’t believe money just hangs out somewhere without anyone noticing. I don’t want to see you disappointed if this treasure hunt hits a dead end.”
The concern in Shelly’s eyes caught Ivy off guard, despite how much they’d been through together. “I know the odds, but I need to try. For Summer Beach and the library everyone deserves.”
“Don’t forget the art museum,” Shelly added. “That’s your dream, but you’ve hardly mentioned it.”
Maybe because that seems so personal , Ivy thought. She’d love to curate a small collection. “That, too, of course.”
Shelly studied her for a moment, then nodded. “So who are you going to call?”
“I already talked to Raquel in Mallorca,” Ivy replied. “And I tried to reach Lea Martin, but I’m not sure if she’s in London or Germany with her new husband. I left a message, so maybe she’ll call me back.”
“Okay, who’s next?” Shelly asked.
“Viola, in San Francisco. She might have some advice.”
Shelly waved to Hallie, motioning for another cup for coffee. “Make your call. I’ll stay to give you moral support.”
Ivy started to shoo her away but stopped. If they managed to recover funds for the library, it would be Shelly’s win as much as hers. She’d stuck by Ivy since the beginning.
Since childhood, in fact.
“Okay. Here goes.” Ivy tapped Viola’s number on her phone and put it on speaker. After several rings, a distinct, formal male voice answered.
“Good morning. Standish residence. Who’s calling, please?”
Ivy recognized the houseman’s voice. “Hello, Leon. This is Ivy Bay from Summer Beach calling for Mrs. Standish.”
“Yes, of course,” Leon replied with warmth in his voice. “How nice to hear from you. One moment, I will see if Madam is available.”
“Must be nice,” Shelly whispered.
Ivy put a finger to her lips. “Shh.”
After a long moment, Viola came on the phone. “Ivy, darling. How lovely to hear from you. It’s been too long, my dear. How is the renovation proceeding?”
“Very well. Thanks to you and your generous friends, thenew Seabreeze Inn will be a centerpiece of the community. The construction crew is jack-hammering the driveway as we speak. I hope you’ll come for the grand reopening.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Viola said. “Amelia Erickson would be so pleased with what you’ve done with the place.” She paused. “I know Gustav is, or so he professes.”
Ivy could hear Meredith in the background scolding her. “Aunt Viola, people will think you’re losing your mind if you keep talking about spirits.”
Viola laughed. “Why, that’s the fun of it. Everyone needs a little eccentricity to be interesting. Say hello to Ivy, darling.”
The phone shuffled between them with sounds of buttons inadvertently pressed. “I think it’s on speaker now,” Viola said loudly. “Can you hear me?”
“We hear you,” Ivy said, and Shelly chimed in. They traded pleasantries before Viola asked, “Now that you’re tearing apart the old beach house, have you discovered anything else hidden there?”
Ivy grinned at Shelly. “That’s why I’m calling. We made a discovery recently that’s quite puzzling.” She explained the architectural plans and the possibility of funds on reserve in a dormant bank account.
“I did some investigating,” Ivy continued, her words spilling out. “I learned there are still unclaimed Swiss bank accounts dating from World War II. Even before. Do you or your attorney know if the Erickson estate had any such accounts?”
Viola was quiet for a moment, and Ivy’s heart sank. Then the older woman spoke slowly, as if choosing her words carefully.
“We wouldn’t have been privy to that financial information, my dear. Only as it related to the purchase of the house.” She paused. “That said, I know of a fabulous young attorney who works for a firm that deals in such matters. The firm has helped families locate lost property from that era. Quite remarkable work.”
Ivy’s pulse quickened.
Meredith spoke up. “Aunt Viola is referring to my son Andrew. He works for a law firm in Los Angeles. Recently, he has been assisting clients who are Holocaust survivors and descendants. His team managed to recover bank accounts and artwork stolen many years ago. Swiss banks have very specific procedures. He’ll know what to do.”
“That’s impressive.” Ivy raised her brow at Shelly.
Meredith said, “I’ll put you in touch with him. Expect a call soon.”
“That would be incredible, Meredith. Thank you.” Ivy’s voice tremored with gratitude.
“Our pleasure, dear,” Viola said. “Do keep us posted. How wonderful it would be to see Amelia’s dream for a library and art museum come true.”
After they hung up, Shelly burst into a grin. “Viola came through again. You got this.”
Ivy shook her head as that strange panic set in again. “Not yet.”
Instead of celebrating a premature win, she considered how all this sounded. Money stashed away for decades simply falling into her lap. This was more than a mere slim chance; this bordered on delusional.
Suddenly, she felt more than self-conscious. She felt ashamed. And she prided herself on being practical, except when pushed to desperation, like when she moved into the old beach house.
Shelly stared at her. “What’s wrong with you? A minute ago?—”
Ivy cut her off. “It’s probably nothing more than an old note about an account long closed.”
Shelly’s expression fell. “Just when I thought you had finally embraced the outrageous.”
Ivy’s seagull landed on the railing again, much closer this time, and blinked at her. As it did, a strange sensation rippled through her. She leaned forward, speaking to it. “Maybe you are the spirit of an old mariner, or in this case, a fervent art collector.”
Shelly wrinkled her brow in concern. “You’re talking to birds now?”
Rubbing the back of her neck, Ivy grinned at her, giving in to her sister’s optimism. “Okay, who cares if we’re delusional?”
“That’s right,” Shelly said, brightening. “At least we’re having fun.”
Laughing, Ivy rose from the table. “Let’s go check on the Bookfest progress.”
As it turned out, Libby had left to work on her proposal for the city council, and Poppy returned to the inn. Reed’s crew finished the demolition, so the noise level ratcheted down a few notches.
The paper covering the floors crinkled as Ivy walked through, and the air was thick with the smell of dust and old wood. All around she could see evidence of progress.
Outside, she spied Poppy working on her laptop on the patio by the pool. She looked up when Ivy and Shelly neared.
“I hear the plans for the book festival are going well,” Ivy said. Patrons at Java Beach had eavesdropped, and word was already spreading.
Poppy’s eyes shimmered with happiness. “People are excited to get involved. Louise at the Laundry Basket said she’s having reading withdrawals since the library closed. She volunteered to manage the bake sale.”
“How kind of her,” Ivy said, looking over Poppy’s shoulder at the spreadsheet on her computer. She tapped an entry on the list. “For food trucks, call Marina at the Coral Cafe.”
“Will do,” Poppy said, adding to the list.
Ivy’s phone rang, and she brought it from her pocket to answer it. “Hello?”
A young man spoke, “This is Andrew Fields calling for Ivy Bay.”
“This is Ivy. Thanks for calling.”
“I’m in the car,” he said, sounding like he was on a speakerphone. “I’ll be brief. I understand you spoke to Viola and my mother. I’m driving back from a client meeting in San Diego, so I could meet you in Summer Beach on the way. The highway exit is coming up. I realize this is short notice, but would that work for you?”
“Of course, if you don’t mind meeting in a construction zone. We’ll be here.”
Ivy hung up, her faith in the impossible restored. “Andrew Fields will be here shortly. Let’s get the plans and that document.”
They filled in Poppy while they got ready to meet Andrew. “You work fast, Aunt Ivy.”
“This is only a preliminary talk.” Ivy didn’t want to raise hopes, even though Shelly could hardly contain her enthusiasm.
When Andrew arrived, Ivy met him in the foyer and led him to the patio where they sat by the pool. He was younger than she’d expected, probably Poppy’s age or a couple of years older. He had sandy hair, a lean physique, and eyes that held a serious expression. Overall, she had a positive impression of him, hardly surprising given who his mother and aunt were.
“This is quite the house,” Andrew said, taking it in. “Aunt Viola is a real history buff, and she’s told me about this place. I’m sorry I couldn’t make the gala. My work often requires overseas travel.”
“Viola was instrumental in driving the restoration.” Ivy introduced him to Shelly and Poppy. “My sister and my niece, who also manage the inn.”
“Nice meeting you,” Andrew said, his gaze resting on Poppy for a moment longer than necessary. He turned back to Ivy. “May I see what you told Viola about?”
Looking at him with a smile, Poppy unrolled the plans. “We found these plans hidden behind a wall. That’s not unusual around here.”
Andrew nodded. “My mother shared the backstory.”
“We also found this.” Ivy placed the two parts of the paper on the patio table. “We wondered if this might point toward a dormant, unclaimed account.”
He peered at the faded fountain pen script. “Those numbers could very well pertain to an account. Have you looked up this address?”
“It’s a bank in Switzerland,” Ivy replied.
Andrew read the notation. “‘Funds on deposit for the Summer Beach Library and Art Museum.’ That’s interesting, and it might have applied at one time. Is this all you have to go on?”
Ivy’s heart sank. This is what she feared, and she felt a little foolish. “All we’ve found so far. It’s not enough, is it?”
“We’ve worked with less,” Andrew replied. “It’s entirely plausible, but I want you to understand there may be difficulties.”
Still, Ivy asked, “Could you look into it?” She paused, biting her lip. “I’m sure your law firm is excellent, but I don’t have much money to put toward this.”
Andrew lifted a corner of his mouth. “Aunt Viola loves a good mystery, and since she put me through law school, I’m in no position to decline her wishes. This one’s on her. I can’t imagine it will take long. Do you have any documents that might establish ownership or heirs, such as a will, trust, or death certificate? Even old letters. Anything that might demonstrate intent.”
Ivy’s heart dropped again. “I’ll scan and email what I can find.”
Poppy spoke up. “I’ll do that for you, Aunt Ivy.” Her cheeks were flushed with excitement.
A smile lifted Andrew’s lips, and he held Poppy’s gaze with interest. “Here’s my card. I look forward to hearing from you, Poppy.”
Ivy started to thank him when a voice sounded behind them.
Reed had just returned. “Who’s this?”
Turning to her nephew, Ivy introduced them and explained, “Andrew promised to help us investigate what we found.”
Reed was pleasant enough, but Ivy detected an undercurrent between him and his sister.
“I should be on my way to beat the traffic,” Andrew said. “I’ll be in touch, and I’ll see myself out. I enjoyed meeting all of you.”
Poppy stared after him until Reed waved a hand in front of her face. “Hey, you’re not interested in him, are you?”
Flipping her silky hair back, she shrugged off his question. “You have no right to comment.”
Reed ran a hand over his jaw. “Neither do you, but that didn’t stop you.”
“Actually, I’ve changed my mind about Libby,” Poppy said. “We’re working together on the book festival.”
Reed folded his arms. “Does this mean you’re giving me your blessing to see her? Not that I need it, you know.”
Ivy and Shelly looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“What’s wrong with you two?” Poppy asked, her face growing even more flushed.
Still chuckling, Shelly said, “You guys argue just like we used to with your dad and uncle. They never approved of anyone we liked.”
Ivy nudged her. “They were usually right, though. As for them, well, thank goodness Forrest found your mom.” Angela was a good match for their brother, Ivy thought. With five children of their own, their family was as rambunctious as the one she and Shelly had grown up in. Not that she would have wanted it any other way.
“Don’t you have work to do?” Poppy said to her brother.
“I just wanted to meet the guy you were making googly eyes at,” Reed said over his shoulder. “See you later.”
Poppy blew out a breath. “Sometimes Reed drives me nuts.”
“Andrew seems interesting,” Ivy said, smiling at her niece. The last boyfriend hadn’t turned out well for her. Still, Poppy was young and should be dating to discover what she liked. “I’ll try to get some documents for you to send him.”
That would be a copy of the trust, Ivy decided. Bennett had one in his files. She didn’t have anything else. Technically, she had no claim on any funds.
If there was an account, would funds go to the trust to be directed to Amelia’s designated charities?
Ivy had another idea. She had no claim, but Lea might. She shivered at the thought and checked her phone again. By now, it was nighttime in Europe. She let out a small sigh. Maybe she’d hear from Lea tomorrow. That would be another conversation.
Though she tried to temper her thoughts, Ivy’s mind still sprinted ahead, vacillating between possibilities and the sheer absurdity of her expectation. And yet, after all these years, what if funds meant for a library and art museum still existed in the bank?
What if Amelia’s dream, and her own, could finally be realized?
Even as she tried to temper her feelings, her pulse pounded. For the first time, the sound of hammers and drills didn’t bother her because beneath the noise and chaos, there was hope.