short pink hair perched behind her ear. In her arms, she clutched Pixie, her beloved Chihuahua. A low growl rumbled in the tiny dog’s chest when she saw Ivy’s visitor.
“Hi everyone,” Gilda said.
“You’re out early,” Ivy said.
“Pixie has a doctor’s appointment.” All at once, Pixie’s growl erupted into a high-pitched rampage aimed at Eleanor. “Pixie, behave,” Gilda cried, bouncing the dog in an attempt to quiet her.
But Pixie refused to back down. Amid Pixie’s verbal assault on Eleanor, Gilda hurried out the front door.
Ivy turned back to Eleanor. “Sorry about that. Pixie is usually quite good with guests.” She didn’t mention Pixie’s little problem. The dog had a tendency to nab other people’s belongings and drag them to her room for hiding. Ivy tried to watch Pixie whenever she escaped Gilda’s room, snatching the dog’s purloined treasures from her before she could scurry away.
“Those are evil little dogs,” Eleanor muttered. “I expect she will be locked up during the wedding.”
“Why don’t I show you the ballroom?” Ivy was uninterested in delving into the root of this woman’s family or pet dynamics. Seldom had she—or Pixie, for that matter—developed such an instant dislike of a person.
When they entered the ballroom, Eleanor’s gaze immediately traveled from the intricate wooden parquet floor up to the chandeliers before resting on the carved marble fireplace. “Well, well, this might do after all. How surprising.” She nodded with satisfaction. “The dates I mentioned are still available?”
“At the moment, yes. However, we’d had many inquiries, so it’s first come, first served.”
Eleanor glanced out the tall windows to the ocean. “This will photograph well enough, as long as we can persuade a decent photographer to make the trek here.”
“We have a good wedding photographer in town.”
Eleanor gave her a withering look. She turned away and sauntered toward the fireplace. “This is the spot. Yes, it will do.” She framed the area with her hands as if she were a director. “Thank goodness the dress still fits her.”
“Excuse me?”
Eleanor whipped around. “I don’t believe I said anything to you.”
Ivy swallowed a retort. This was business, and they needed the income for maintenance and taxes. She didn’t have to like every guest or client of the inn. Ivy arranged a smile on her face. “Does the groom’s family live nearby?”
“Dear heavens, no.”
That’s it, Ivy thought. She looked at Eleanor and arched an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
Eleanor responded with an elaborate shrug. “I suppose Summer Beach is nice enough as an out-of-the-way sort of place. We had another venue reserved in Bel Air, but now we’re forced to move up the wedding. Through no fault of mine, I might add. Goodness knows I have done my part as a mother. Unfortunately, the Hotel Bel-Air can’t accommodate a schedule change. Churchill and I must also cancel our trip to Europe.” She lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “These young people are so impetuous.” Eleanor stretched her lips into what Ivy took to be a smile, however uncomfortable it looked. She opened her purse and withdrew a check. “This is for the deposit.”
Ivy accepted the check. The amount was what she had quoted for their most expensive deluxe wedding package. Although she had reservations about Eleanor, this was good pay for a weekend. She couldn’t turn it down, despite what Shelly might think.
“We look forward to welcoming you to the Seabreeze Inn,” Ivy said.
Eleanor merely sighed.
The Seabreeze Inn was a long way from a posh Bel Air hotel. Still, this home had once been a showcase, no matter how shabby around the edges it was now. Ivy slipped the check into her pocket.
Ivy went on. “The grounds are also lovely for weddings. Before we go outside onto the terraces, we can look at the formal dining room, which you may use for the rehearsal dinner. Right this way, please.”
Eleanor’s high heels clicked sharply on the wooden floors behind Ivy. She stopped at the entry to the dining room and turned to Eleanor. “After breakfast, this room can be rearranged to accommodate a reception or private dinner.”
When Eleanor stepped inside the room, her mouth dropped open. “Rachel, what in heaven’s name are you doing here—and why haven’t you been answering my calls?”
The young guest whirled around. “Mom?”
“And Carrie,” Eleanor said accusingly. “You haven’t been returning my calls either.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Eleanor.” Carrie slunk in her seat. “We’ve been so busy planning this bachelorette party.”
“Rachel doesn’t need a reward for her behavior,” Eleanor snapped.
Ivy quickly pieced together the situation. This is the mother Rachel