Seabreeze Summer

Chapter 1-2

Ivy sputtered in her coffee. “You shouldn’t be eavesdropping,” she said, reaching for a napkin to dab her top. She shot a sideways glance at Bennett, acutely embarrassed.

A slight grin played on Bennett’s lips, those lips she’d kissed and tasted last night. He raised his cup.

“Well, you don’t have to get so salty about it.” Shelly stared at them for a moment before tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I sure hope there’s more coffee.” Wearing charcoal gray and violet yoga gear, she looked like she’d been up for a while—except for her slightly puffy eyes.

Ivy put her cup down. “There is,” she said, reaching for another cup. She frowned as the dark liquid swirled in a cup. “We have to figure out how to take care of our guests today.”

“Wasn’t that the plan?” Shelly asked, stretching her arms overhead.

“It’s just so many, so suddenly,” Ivy said.

“At least we have the room.” Shelly turned to Bennett. “You’re staying for a while, right?”

“If that’s not a problem,” he replied, darting a look toward Ivy.

“Why would it be?” Ivy shot her words back, perhaps a little too sharply, as the feelings she had for him surged through her again.

Just a kiss, that’s all it was. Yet that kiss had sparked feelings in Ivy that she hadn’t known in years. Even with Jeremy—they’d been married so long that they’d developed a comfortable routine. He’d been physically attentive, of course, but they’d never been swinging-from-the-chandeliers people in that department. Her husband had been an intellectual, who was often more passionate about ideas and technology than people.

After handing the cup to Shelly, Ivy shoved back her tousled hair. Why hadn’t she at least glanced in the mirror before coming downstairs? Her face was so hot it was probably as red as the tomatoes in the bowl on the counter. She gave it a spin.

Bennett and Shelly were staring at her. Bennett’s lips curved up slightly at the edges, while Shelly’s mouth opened in confusion.

Ivy stopped the spinning bowl and scooped up her coffee mug. “I’ll make a list of supplies we’ll need. Laundry detergent, tissues, toilet paper, soap…”

Bennett pushed back from the counter. “I’ve got to get to the office right away. And see if any more of my house has burned down.”

“Then I’ll see you later,” Ivy said, hurrying from the kitchen.

As Bennett followed her, Ivy saw Poppy’s head emerge around the edge of the divan.

“Hey,” Bennett called out, catching up to her in the foyer. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were running away from me. Talk to me, will you? This is new territory for me, too.”

Stalling for a moment to sort out her feelings, Ivy drew a breath. On a round table in the foyer, the calming aroma from the roses and ginger flowers she’d picked from Shelly’s garden filled the air.

Yet facing Bennett—and his dark-lashed hazel eyes—brought forth another torrent of emotions. Where did they fit in each other’s lives? She’d have to manage these strange new sensations if she expected to rise to the task of tending to their new guests. Flushing and fumbling for words like a teenager in front of townspeople would be a disaster. With the zoning status pending, the last thing she needed was a public relationship with the mayor. Her crotchety neighbor Darla would surely seize on that, too.

“Bennett, I have so much work to do here,” Ivy said, shifting from him as she clung to her familiar plan. An organized life was a safe life. A mature life. Falling into a new relationship right after arriving in the small town of Summer Beach? Sheer craziness. Like something Shelly would do—not Ivy, the sane sister.

Steeling herself against her emotional draw to him, she said, “You have no idea how dire my situation is.”

“Actually, I do. The city has been considering this property for a community center.”

Ivy was taken aback. “Is that what you want to see here?”

Bennett rubbed the back of his neck. “I want what’s best for Summer Beach. If you can run this successfully, make it pay its way…”

“You don’t think I can?”

“I didn’t say that. But you need a zoning change.”

“And I’m applying for that.” She paused. “Can’t you help?”

“As I said before, that decision is up to Summer Beach residents.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of her neighbor. “Including Darla. You need to make nice on her.”

She stared at him with an incredulous look. “We saved her house last night. If we hadn’t hosed down the giant eucalyptus trees in her yard, any ember would have sent those up like flaming torches—and her house along with them. She can’t complain about that.”

Bennett glanced out the window. “Then why is she storming across the lawn right now?”

Ivy closed her eyes. The sun had just risen, and already the day was going sideways.

Seconds later, Darla pounded on the front door.

“Want me to handle this?” Bennett asked.

Ivy caught a glimpse of herself in an ornate mirror by the door. Skimpy sleepwear, tangled hair. She sighed. “I’ll deal with her.” She started for the door, but Bennett touched her shoulder, and she paused.

“I don’t know where we stand with each other,” he said. “But I do know that what we shared last night was special. Things like that don’t happen every day, at least, not in my life. We both have a lot to deal with right now, but please promise you won’t shut me out?”

She gazed up at him, knowing how hard it would be to deny her feelings. “We’ll talk later. But go—you have a full day ahead of you. You don’t need Darla to slow you down.”

“Thanks,” Bennett said. He kissed her on the cheek before hurrying up the staircase.

Darla banged on the door again.

Fortifying herself with a large gulp of coffee, Ivy reached for the doorknob. She braced herself and swung open the door.

“Good morning, Darla.” Ivy blinked. The woman’s blazing, multi-color rhinestone sun-visor and her shocking, ultramarine blue hair were even brighter in the morning light.

“My lawn is a soggy mess this morning,” Darla said, huffing. “And those two you sent over trampled the flowers I’d just planted. They were so rude. They refused to leave when I told them to.”

“No ma’am,” Ivy said, folding her arms. “That young couple stayed there to make sure your house or trees didn’t ignite from blowing embers. You should be thankful we cared enough to help you.”

Darla scowled. “My house has stood for years. It’s not going anywhere.”

“Some of those houses on the ridgetop were older than yours, and now they’re a heap of smoldering rubble.”

“I didn’t ask for help, and I don’t need any,” Darla shot back. “Could’ve done that myself.”

“But you didn’t.” Ivy softened her tone. “You know, it’s okay to accept neighborly assistance.”

Over Darla’s shoulder, Ivy spied Mitch ambling toward the door. He had a gym bag slung over a shoulder, and he carried a cardboard box. His wet hair was slicked back.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” Mitch shifted his armload and gave Darla a hug. The scent of coffee and pastries wafted from the carton.

“Morning,” Darla muttered, her deeply furrowed forehead relaxing a little. “These people destroyed my flower gardens last night.”

Though Darla’s words were still harsh, Ivy watched as she melted under Mitch’s attention. How does he do it?

“That so?” Mitch grinned. “Bet Shelly would be happy to replace those for you. She’s an expert horticulturist. I’ll help, too.” To Ivy, he added, “With all the folks that landed here last night, I figured you might like help with breakfast.”

“You have no idea.” Ivy waved him in. “We have a full house of guests.”

“Come on in for coffee, sweetheart,” Mitch said to Darla as he stepped inside. “Save you a trip to Java Beach today.”

“I’ll still be there to read my paper,” the older woman said. Narrowing her eyes, she added, “But I have somewhere else to go first.”

Mitch dropped his gym bag in the foyer. “Ivy, could you take this bag up to Bennett? Thought he might need some clean clothes this morning.” He planted a kiss on Darla’s cheek before she left, and then he headed toward the kitchen.

Ivy watched him go. Mitch was thoughtful, but she wondered how Shelly would react to his arrival. Even though he was easily ten years younger than her sister, Shelly was still attracted to him.

Or she had been until they’d found out Mitch had served time in prison. The FBI agents who’d come to collect the stolen paintings she and Shelly had found in the lower level had mentioned it. She and Shelly didn’t know why he’d been imprisoned, which made Ivy uncomfortable.

Poppy raised herself up to a seated position on the divan, where she’d been watching the scene unfold. She’d slept in her clothes from yesterday, as their guests probably had, too. “Need any help, Aunt Ivy?”

“Shelly might need some support in the kitchen. Get some breakfast, too.”

As Poppy hurried toward the kitchen, Ivy pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. They’d only been in the house a few short weeks, but so much had happened. She gazed around the house, taking in the worn parquet floor with its honey patina, the sparkling chandeliers, and soaring windows that faced the sea. With her family’s help, they’d come a long way in making the tired old house shine again.

Ivy picked up Mitch’s gym bag and started up the staircase. Between each step were vibrant, hand-painted tile risers. The exquisite details in this house that had been designed by architect Julia Morgan still amazed her. The historic designation ensured that the house would not be torn down and replaced, as Jeremy had intended.

This was Ivy’s chance to bring the house back to serve the community of Summer Beach, though she hadn’t expected it would be quite so soon. As she made her way through the long hallway, she could hear people stirring in their rooms. The old house hadn’t seen this much life in decades.

She wondered what the former owner, Amelia Erickson, would think. The mysterious woman had hidden more than a hundred paintings stolen during the Second World War in the lower level. It was only by accident that Ivy and Shelly had discovered them on the bricked-up lower level.

Though the FBI had collected the masterpieces, no one knew how the artwork had arrived there, or if Mrs. Erickson had truly concealed the priceless pieces for safekeeping, as Ivy believed. After all, the woman had opened her house to recovering military personnel during the war. Las Brisas del Mar—as the house was known then—had served as a center for physical therapy and rehabilitation. The house had been a haven for people in need, just as it was again now.

As she wove through the hallways, Ivy wondered if the house still harbored secrets.

When she reached Bennett’s room, she tapped on the door. When there was no answer, she cracked the door. “Are you decent? Mitch sent some clothes for you.”

“Come in,” Bennett called out.

Feeling awkward, Ivy slipped in, leaving the door a little ajar and wondering what the innkeeper protocol was in such a situation. She’d have to learn fast.

Bennett stepped from the bathroom holding a rolled-up towel in his hands.

He wasn’t wearing his shirt anymore, and Ivy felt her heart hammer once more. For his age—mid-forties like her, or any age for that matter—his physique was gorgeous. Quickly glancing at the bag in her hand, she said, “Mitch brought this for you. He also brought breakfast for everyone.”

“He’s a good guy.” Bennett unfurled the towel. Inside was his shirt. “I couldn’t stand the smell of smoke on it. I figured it was better damp than smoky. The shops don’t open for another three hours.” He jerked his chin toward the bag. “What’s in there?”

“I, uh…”

Bennett grinned at her. “Open it. Don’t be afraid. It’s not like it’s drugs or something.”

“Was that what Mitch—?” She stopped herself. It wasn’t any of her business, but she was curious.

“No,” he replied pointedly.

“Oh. Well, okay.” If he wasn’t going to offer any explanation, she might as well open the bag. She unzipped it and looked inside. “T-shirts, jeans, flip-flops.” She held up a faded T-shirt. “Grateful Dead?”

Bennett laughed. “That looks familiar.”

“How come?”

“I gave that T-shirt to him years ago.”

She tossed it to him, though she was actually enjoying the view. He pulled it over his head. “Ah, that’s better. Still fits, too. Toss me the jeans.”

“You are not changing in front of me.”

“I won’t.” Chuckling, Bennett stepped toward her. “We’ll take it slowly.”

Outside the open door, Ivy could hear people emerging from their rooms. Although she’d had a crush on him years ago, she was a grown woman now. She knew the difference between infatuation and love that lasted years. Ivy pressed a hand against his chest.

“Bennett, I can’t.”

“I understand what you’re going through.”

Does he? Jeremy’s unexpected death was one thing, but after she’d heard he had a girlfriend with him here in Summer Beach, her trust had been shattered as well. She shook her head.

He took her hand in his and traced circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. Shivers coursed through her.

“Slowly,” he repeated. “I promise.”

“Your recovery has been years in the making,” Ivy said, referring to his wife’s death. “But for me, it’s only been a year.” She shook her head, though her heart was splintering. Would she regret this?

She watched the rise and fall of his chest. He was close, too close now. Her heart had been broken—not once, but twice—and the wounds were still fresh.

“I have too much to do, Bennett. All these guests, and the things they need…we haven’t even decided on a bookkeeping system yet.”

He gazed at her. “That’s not the real reason, is it?”

After trying to decipher Jeremy’s actions and possible motives over the last year, she was tired, so tired, of lies. She wouldn’t do that to another person.

“I’m just not ready for this,” she said. Without giving Bennett a chance to argue or persuade her, she pressed her lips together and hurried out the door.