he wants to do is serve up great coffee, enjoy his life, and be good to Shelly. They seem very much in love.”
That seemed to put Ivy more at ease, and she sipped her tea contentedly.
Bennett grazed the top of her head with his chin. That would give him and Ivy ninety days as well before they’d have to apply for another license. They were growing closer, but he wondered if that would be enough time for her.
9
With her heart full of love for Bennett, Ivy signed the bottom of the marriage license as the young county clerk with the jaunty plaid bow-tie had instructed. Efficiently, the clerk checked the completed application.
Ivy put down the pen and leaned over to kiss Bennett on the cheek.
“It’s almost officially approved,” Bennett said, hugging her. “Are you happy?”
“More than I’ve been in such a long time.” Ivy was excited, yet her insides were as fluttery as a leaf. This was an enormous step for her. A lifetime commitment. She let out the breath she realized she’d been holding.
Standing beside them, Shelly and Mitch finished signing their marriage license.
Ivy and Shelly had decided to make a special event of the day, so they had dressed up in floral sundresses and kitten-heeled sandals. They had gone through their mother’s jewelry to coordinate their outfits with earrings and bracelets.
Bennett and Mitch had also dressed in pressed shirts and trousers. Ivy rarely saw Mitch in anything but T-shirts and board shorts or sweats and windbreakers in the winter. He looked nice, if a little uncomfortable.
Ivy wanted to remember this special day, so they’d all posed for photos outside of the license bureau.
The clerk perused the applications. “These all look fine. Now, I need to see everyone’s driver’s license, passport, or other form of official identification.”
“Of course.” Ivy snapped open her purse and brought out her driver’s license. She handed it to the man behind the counter.
He looked up at her. “You’re from Massachusetts?”
“I returned to California last year.”
Straightening his bow-tie, he said, “You’re supposed to apply for a California driver’s license as soon as you become a resident.”
“I’ve been swamped.” Ivy bit her lip. Surely her current license would be acceptable.
“And too busy to get your license renewed, I see.” The man handed her license back to her. “It expired last year on your birthday. And the name is different from what you wrote on your application. We need your legal name. Is it Bay or Marin?”
Ivy felt flustered. “It was Bay, and then I married, so it became Marin. But then my husband died, and I decided to go back to my maiden name.”
“But you didn’t legally change it?”
“No. Is that a problem?”
“It sure is. You’ll have to change that on the application. Do you have another form of identification? Something with your photo on it?”
Embarrassed, Ivy dug through her wallet. “You probably won’t take my Costco card, will you?”
The man sighed and shook his head.
Ivy grimaced. “You’ve probably heard that line before.”
“You have no idea.” He glanced at the clock and rattled off the list he had memorized. “A valid California identification, driver’s license, or passport. Or a certified birth certificate or baptismal record with a photo identification or an alien resident card. And you must be over eighteen years of age.”
“Well, I’ve got that last bit down times two, at least,” Ivy said sheepishly. Between trying to save the house from the tax foreclosure, renovating it and opening for business, and worrying about her daughters, getting her driver’s license renewed had been low on her list of life-changing priorities. She hadn’t even thought to check the date on it. Still, she had mailed in an application to have her name changed on her social security card, although she hadn’t heard back on it.
Bennett slid his arm around her. “Do you have a passport?”
“That expired a couple of years ago,” Ivy replied with a sinking feeling. “Guess I have to apply for a new license.” She turned back to the clerk. “How long does it take to get a driver’s license?”
“Last I heard, about six weeks, give or take. Or, you could use your certified birth certificate and a California identification card.”
Bennett looked hopeful, but Ivy shook her head. “I’ll have to order a birth certificate.” She recalled having to do that before, and she hadn’t ordered any extra copies.
“That could take a few weeks, too,” the clerk said. “I’m sorry, folks. You two seem like you’re eager to get married, but you’ve got your