wedding list for her,” Ivy said.
Expelling a breath, Shelly said, “I don’t know where I’d be without the queen of organization here, though we only plan to invite family. Very casual, lots of flowers, toes in the sand. I want everyone to be comfortable. I worked far too many stuffy weddings in New York.”
“I think that’s perfect for you and Mitch,” Carlotta said. “Have you decided what you’re going to wear?”
Shelly touched a finger to her chin. “I’m thinking about a white swimsuit with a long white cover-up and flowers in my hair.”
Carlotta’s smile froze. Her gaze darted across photos of various siblings’ weddings on the counter before them. “Oh, darling, are you sure? You could have a casual, flowing white dress. I’d love to take you shopping, and I know just the shop.”
When Shelly shrugged, Ivy added, “I’m working on her, Mom. She should wear something pretty for the photographs.” She watched Shelly’s expression. Her usually ebullient sister seemed troubled, and Ivy wondered what was bothering her.
“Well, it’s Shelly’s wedding, and she should do as she wishes,” Carlotta said, although Ivy could tell her mother was disappointed. She recalled how her mother had helped her choose her wedding dress for her marriage to Jeremy. That seemed so long ago now, and here she was, engaged again.
“The marriage is what’s important,” Carlotta said. “Will you invite any of your friends from New York?”
As Shelly picked up a frame to wrap, she shook her head. “None of them can understand why I left New York for Summer Beach. Their lives move at lightning speed—like mine once did. Anyway, my closest friend there is married to Ezzra’s best friend, and she doesn’t want to travel without him, so that’s awkward.”
“Mitch has a lot of friends in Summer Beach.” Carlotta plucked another family photo from the wall.
“Too many to invite to the wedding,” Shelly replied. “We decided on family only, except for Bennett and Darla."
Carlotta frowned. “Isn’t that the neighbor who sued Ivy?”
“Darla can be cranky sometimes, but we’ve become friends.” Since Ivy persuaded Darla to drop the lawsuit, she had made every effort to be friendly. Ivy baked for her, Shelly trimmed her trees and planted flowers, and they always included Darla in holiday celebrations. She was just lonely. Mitch had become her surrogate son and a replacement for her young son, who had died.
Shelly laughed. “Quite the mother-in-law, right? Maybe we’ll throw a party at Java Beach for people in town afterward. That would be easy.”
Ivy caught a wistful note in Shelly’s voice that she hadn’t heard before, and it made her wonder. Surely Mitch had already organized a party, or was he leaving it to Shelly? Her sister hadn’t wanted much help in planning. Other than making a list for her, Ivy hadn’t interfered. She would ask Shelly again later, she decided.
Ivy and Shelly helped Carlotta pack the remaining pictures and tape the box.
“I have suitcases and a few boxes in the bedroom,” Carlotta said, starting toward the other end of the house. “Some things I hate to put in storage. With a closed storage unit, the summer heat can do a lot of damage to delicate clothes.”
They entered her parents’ bedroom, an all-white setting filled with vivid artwork and pottery from their travels around the world. Double French-paned doors stood open to a wide deck where her parents often enjoyed coffee and the morning newspaper. The house sat on a hillside promontory point, and the land fell away to the ocean beyond.
Ivy had always felt safe in this room. She trailed her fingers across the polished cherrywood of her mother’s mirrored vanity. Breathing in, she recognized the familiar lily of the valley perfume her mother favored. Diorissimo.
Turning toward the large bed, she recalled her parents reading to her and her siblings on a similar fluffy white duvet that smelled of sunshine and sea breezes, fresh from the clothesline.
At the windows, sheer white curtains billowed, and a whimsical wind chime made of antique silver cutlery tinkled in wispy ocean winds. Her mother had always loved her bright whites in the bedroom, calling the neutral palette restful and the perfect background for their artwork.
Inspired, Ivy had followed the same scheme in her bedroom at the inn.
Carlotta motioned toward two open suitcases perched on a bench at the foot of the bed. “I’ve put aside some clothes that you might like to use while we’re gone. My perfumes certainly wouldn’t survive the summer heat in storage. And why would I want to