Seabreeze Wedding

Chapter 1-2

She clicked on another link, and photos of an older professorial gentleman in a herringbone coat popped up. Hardly the same one, she thought, dismissing the image.

Ivy had attended the occasional office holiday party with Jeremy, so she had a couple of black evening dresses she rotated. As a stay-at-home mom, she hadn’t needed much. She peered closer and enlarged an image. Eleanor York’s jewelry was quite impressive.

As guest voices floated downstairs, Ivy felt a twinge of guilt about snooping. She closed the laptop and rested her hands on it. Her fingers were bare of rings. She stroked the faint indentation where her wedding band had rested, growing tighter over the years until she didn’t bother taking it off.

She had a few other rings she wore from time to time, including a modest, ruby-and-diamond ring she’d found tucked under one of the wooden floorboards in her bedroom. It had belonged to the original owner of the house, Amelia Erickson, whose presence they all felt from time to time.

Amelia had left a trail of secrets in the old house she had christened Las Brisas Del Mar, from historic art and important jewels she’d tucked away to hidden rooms she’d built in the attic during the war.

Yet after discovering a cache of beautiful vintage Christmas ornaments in the garage, Ivy couldn’t imagine there was any other place where something could be stashed away.

Amelia and her husband Gustav had been important art collectors from Europe. During the Second World War, Amelia had rescued significant works from Europe that Ivy had promptly returned to their owners.

After Gustav’s death, Amelia had been hospitalized for Alzheimer’s disease in Switzerland, where she passed away decades ago. The grand old home, once a glittering summer gathering place for the intellectual, artistic, and accomplished, had gone silent—frozen with its mid-century decor. The estate had been managed for decades until such time that a long-lost heir was deemed unlikely to surface. Aside from occasional charity fundraising events, the house had seen little use in years.

Ivy turned over her hand. The old callus at the top of her palm where her wedding band had rested was nearly invisible now. After Jeremy had died, it had been months before Ivy could bring herself to remove her wedding band.

Soon, another would take its place. Her heart ached at the bittersweet thought.

Ivy’s phone trilled, startling her. Carlotta Reina Bay’s number floated to the screen. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”

“If you haven’t had lunch yet, I’m meeting my friend Ginger Delavie at her granddaughter’s beach cafe. I thought you might like to join me and see them at the same time.”

“When?”

“About half an hour? I know it’s last minute, but we just decided.”

Through the window, Ivy could see a car pull to the curb in front of the house. Behind them, Ivy spied Bennett walking toward the inn from the village. She recalled that he’d left his SUV at the mechanic’s shop, and he’d had a meeting with the Summer Beach Retailers Association at Java Beach.

“I’d love to, but I think our guests just arrived,” Ivy said. “Shelly is off to the nursery, and Poppy has a client meeting.”

“Can Sunny watch the inn for you?”

“She’s at school today.”

Ivy’s daughter would soon graduate from college. If guests needed anything, Ivy would have to be available. As the weekend neared, drop-in guests often arrived, too. Although they couldn’t afford to miss any opportunities, Ivy wanted to see her mother, too. “Would you like to come by later?”

Just then, laughter burst through the open door that Bennett stood holding open for a group of young women. “After you, ladies.”

“What a gentleman,” one woman said, smiling flirtatiously. Four twenty-something women stepped into the foyer, their arms around each other and still laughing.

Carlotta’s voice floated through the phone. “Sounds like someone is having a good time there. Why don’t you and Shelly come over tomorrow instead? I have more things to give you.”

“I’d like that.” Ivy clicked off the phone and turned to the group in front of her. “Welcome to the Seabreeze Inn.”

A pale blond woman wearing a rhinestone tiara and a glittery white satin sash that read Bride stepped up to the desk. She gave her name, and Ivy smiled.

“Bachelorette party?”

The three women behind the bride-to-be let out a cheer. The last woman through the door was checking out Bennett, who cleared his throat behind an amused grin.

“Are you checking in, too?” the woman asked him. She wore a short, form-fitting pink dress, and her long brunette hair was slightly disheveled.

“You might say I live here,” Bennett said as he winked at Ivy.

The woman twirled a strand of hair and smiled at him. “I sure hope to see you by the pool. We’re going for a dip right away.”

“The mayor might have work to do this afternoon,” Ivy cut in.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen a mayor with such muscles. Very impressive. I’m Carrie, by the way.” She extended her hand.

“Bennett Dylan, at your service,” he said, shaking her hand as Ivy suppressed a laugh. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have some calls to make.”

Leaning toward Ivy, Carrie asked, “Is he married? I didn’t see a ring.”

“Almost,” Ivy said with a small smile.

“Now that’s a challenge if I ever heard one.”

The bride, an earnest-looking young woman with clear blue eyes, turned to Ivy. “I’m Rachel Evans. My cousin and my friends obviously started the party before I arrived. I’m the designated driver anyway.” She leaned in. “I’ll try to keep them quiet.”

Recalling her bachelorette party from years ago, Ivy smiled, though she would keep an eye on the outgoing Carrie who had flirted with Bennett, even though she was half his age.

Taking keys from the drawer, Ivy said, “I’ve put you all in the Sunset Suites behind the main house so that you won’t disturb anyone. We simply ask that the pool area be quiet after eleven at night so that other guests can sleep.” Mrs. Mehta was the only other new guest, so Ivy was glad to have this party here.

A few long-term guests were still in residence at the inn after a fire had ravaged their homes on the ridgetop overlooking the town, such as Imani Jones, the local attorney-turned-flower-vendor, and her son, Jamir, who was studying pre-med. Their home had been rebuilt and would be ready as soon as the interior was finished.

Another guest, Gilda, wrote for magazines. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere. She’d told Ivy that she and Pixie, her Chihuahua, liked the ease of living at the inn. And although Bennett’s house had been repaired, he’d leased it to a family and decided to remain in the old chauffeur’s apartment above the garages behind the house. Ivy had been glad to see him stay.

“First thing we’re going to do is dive into the pool,” Rachel said. “It looked gorgeous in the website photos.”

“Julia Morgan designed it,” Ivy explained. “She was the architect who designed Hearst Castle on the northern coast of California.”

“That’s so cool,” Carrie said, speaking up again. “I’ve read about her. I’m going to be an architect, too. Starting in September.” She did a little happy dance.

“We’re all graduating in June,” Rachel said. “I’m the only one not going on to graduate school right away. My cousin Carrie will design our homes, Belinda will clean up the ocean, and Giselle will handle our taxes. I might catch up in another year or two.” She blushed slightly.

“After the baby,” one of her friends said before clapping her hand over her mouth.

Rachel sighed. “I just found out. My boyfriend Topper and I were both going to law school. We hadn’t planned it this way, but now we’ll have to get married sooner…” Her voice trailed off, and a flush gathered in her cheeks. “Before, I was only worried about the wedding. Now, that’s the least of my concerns.”

“Except that her mom is such a perfectionist,” Carrie interjected.

Rachel nodded. “At this point, a wedding seems almost irrelevant,” she said, lowering her voice almost to a whisper. “I’m scared to death. I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mother. What if I’m terrible at it?”

Ivy remembered her early, angst-filled years of motherhood. “Your love is what matters most.” She smiled at the nervous young woman. “Maybe you’d like to go to the local day spa for a massage while you’re here.”

Rachel’s eyes lit with relief. “I’d love that. The others want to go to Spirits & Vine tomorrow, but I’d rather do something else. Just the thought of smelling alcohol in a bar—even a very nice one—turns my stomach.” Paling at the idea, Rachel pressed a hand against her abdomen. “I almost didn’t come at all, but they insisted.”

“Under the circumstances, this is a low-key version of what we’d originally planned,” Carrie added. “We all sneaked out of town to do this.”

Ivy withdrew a card from the desk and handed it to Rachel. “Here’s the number to the spa. Let me know if you want me to call for appointments.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said, tucking the card into her pocket. “I’d like that.”

Ivy showed the young women to their rooms. They were about Sunny’s age, and Ivy couldn’t help smiling at their constant chatter. And why not? They were on the brink of exciting, life-changing adventures.

Ivy remembered how exciting those years had been—when anything and everything seemed possible. Life could change in a moment—like when she’d decided to move to Boston for school or when she’d met Jeremy in a coffee shop.

As Ivy closed the door behind Rachel, she made a note to put another lined trash bin in her room near the bed. The young woman looked queasy, and Ivy thought she might be suffering from morning sickness. She’d also bring a basket of ginger ale and peppermint tea, along with plain saltine crackers, to the room.

During this past year, Ivy had learned that little touches could make guests more comfortable, and she enjoyed doing it. She’d spent her adult life taking care of her family, so this role came naturally to her. Except for her painting, she hadn’t trained for much else.

At college, she’d studied art history. She might have gone to work for a museum or an auction house when she was young, but she and Jeremy had started their family right away. He preferred that she stay home with the children, and she had enjoyed having that opportunity, too. Yet, in watching her classmates’ success, she had often wondered about what she might have missed.

Ivy made her way back to the main house and opened the kitchen door, which seemed to have shifted in its frame. She had to lift the knob to close the door behind her.

The upkeep on a home this large was expensive. Fortunately, her brother Flint owned a construction company and had helped her with repairs, but she couldn’t depend on him forever. Besides learning how to wield a hammer and screwdriver and unclog toilets, she also had to figure out how to fill the inn year-round.

When her husband had bought the house—unbeknownst to her—and drained their retirement savings, it was still structurally sound, though dated. Jeremy had neglected upkeep. The landscape was practically gasping for water. Although Ivy had tried to sell the house that dominated the beachside village that had developed around it, its historic designation and poor condition had dissuaded buyers.

With property taxes looming and a battle brewing with Jeremy’s mistress—another fact Ivy hadn’t discovered until she’d arrived in Summer Beach—she had decided to rent out rooms to save the property from a tax sale.

Now, in the spacious, 1950s-era kitchen, Ivy gathered tea bags and plucked crackers from the pantry. She tucked a vintage embroidered napkin from Amelia’s linen collection into a basket and arranged the items.