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.
Ivy paused, absently rubbing her bare ring finger again with her thumb. The summer before she’d left for college on the East Coast, she had a crush on a surfer named Bennett Dylan. Yet it hadn’t been long before she’d met Jeremy in Boston and succumbed to his French charm, intelligence, and relentless pursuit of her.
Thinking about her new guest, Ivy had recognized the look in Rachel’s eyes, which held glimmers of excitement and determination—as well as trepidation over the unknown and unexpected.
Even in her mid-forties, Ivy knew that feeling. Through the kitchen window, she could see Bennett on the balcony of the old chauffeur’s apartment above the garages. Seated on the new outdoor furniture he’d bought to feel more at home, he was speaking on the phone and making notes.
Since she had arrived in the sleepy beach community, the unexpected had certainly occurred in the form of Bennett Dylan. Despite her initial misgivings, she’d found herself growing to care for him. Her older daughter Misty approved of their dating, and even Sunny, her mercurial younger daughter, had finally come around.
This past Christmas, Bennett had asked Ivy to marry him. At the time, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to accept his proposal, though they had yet to confirm a date. He was waiting for her.
And she was waiting on Shelly.
The Bennett that Ivy knew was the man she wanted in her life. Yet after awakening this past year to Jeremy’s secret duplicity, she had to wonder if there was more than one side to Bennett.
Was he too good to be true?
She didn’t have time to think about that now. With resolve, Ivy tucked several bottles of ginger ale into the basket for her young guest and slid it onto her arm.
When she reached Rachel’s unit, she tapped on the door. The pale young woman cracked the door, and Ivy said, “I brought you a few things you might like to have on hand. Just in case you start feeling queasy.” She held out the basket.
Rachel’s eyes widened as she accepted the offering. “I wasn’t sure what to do. I haven’t told my mother yet.” Behind her, a mobile phone played a Barry Manilow tune. Rachel made a face. “That’s her favorite song.” She bit her lip and wrinkled her forehead with apprehension.
“Maybe you should answer it,” Ivy said gently. “Call if you need anything.” Although she wondered why Rachel felt she couldn’t tell her mother, that was none of her business.
After leaving her new guest, Ivy wound through the tropical garden path that Shelly had planted around the Sunset suites. Sweet white plumeria blossoms opened to the sunshine, while lacy ferns peeked from beneath larger plantings and rippled in the light ocean breeze. Ivy trailed a hand over pink ginger flowers. The myriad aromas were redolent of Hawaii and other Polynesian islands, which is what Shelly had intended.
Spying her sister in the garden, Ivy made her way past the pool area to her. Shelly held a shiny tin of fresh-cut flowers.
“Your flowers have really come