Seabreeze Wedding E-Book

Jan Moran

• Herausgeber: Sunny Palms Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Summer Beach
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 342

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

The high summer season. A long-awaited wedding. Surprises at a historic beach inn.

**From a USA Today bestselling author**

At the historic Seabreeze Inn, sisters Ivy and Shelly Bay are busier than ever with wedding plans of their own, although challenges threaten to derail the special events. New guests are also throwing a wedding at the inn, bringing a host of trials and chaos. As Ivy prepares the old beach house for a season of weddings, surprising discoveries from decades past arise that could change even the best of plans. RSVP now and join the party on the beach.

Seabreeze Wedding is a favorite in the beloved Summer Beach series that may also be read as a stand-alone novel. The heartwarming story is set on the sunny Southern California coastline. Visit the small town of Summer Beach now, where the bonds of friendship and love prove unbreakable. Available in ebook, paperback, hardcover, large print, and audiobook.

REVIEWS FOR THE SUMMER BEACH SERIES

More than 3,000 5-star reviews on Amazon and Goodreads!

“SEABREEZE INN is truly an enjoyable, lovely read that will lift your spirits. If you enjoy a light, breezy read, old houses, and characters with secrets, you will want to add this book to your TBR. Art lovers will also enjoy this book that slips in a little romance.” - Silver's Reviews

“An entertaining beach read that offers multi-generational context and humor.” - InD'Tale Magazine​

“A novel that gives fans of romantic sagas a compelling voice to follow.” Booklist 

“A fun read that grabs you at the start.” —Tina Sloan, Author and Award-Winning Actress

“A wonderful story that is great at any time of the year. Will make you feel like the sea breeze is streaming through your hair.” - Laura Bradbury, Bestselling Author, My Grape Year

“I love stories where the protagonist connects with an old love! Especially if the story is set at the beach. Wonderful characters and a sweet story. Doesn't get much better.” - Kellie Coates Gilbert, Bestselling Author, The Pacific Bay Series

“Jan Moran is the new queen of the epic romance.” - USA Today Bestselling Author Rebecca Forster

“Sweet romance with a mystery.” - Romance in Her Prime

"The perfect blend of mystery and romance...the women in Jan's stories are always intelligent and strong. At the core of all her books is a strong, close-knit family. The story evoked a wide range of emotions but most of all love. " - Betty's Reviews

Series Order (Can read Coral Cottage series concurrently)
Seabreeze Inn
Seabreeze Summer
Seabreeze Sunset
Seabreeze Christmas
Seabreeze Wedding
Seabreeze Book Club
Coral Cottage
Coral Cafe
Coral Holiday
(To be announced)

Leseprobe

Praise for USA Today Bestselling Author Jan Moran

Seabreeze Inn and Coral Cottage series

“A wonderful story… Will make you feel like the sea breeze is streaming through your hair.” – Laura Bradbury, Bestselling Author

“A novel that gives fans of romantic sagas a compelling voice to follow.” – Booklist 

“An entertaining beach read with multi-generational context and humor.” – InD’Tale Magazine

“Wonderful characters and a sweet story.” – Kellie Coates Gilbert, Bestselling Author

“A fun read that grabs you at the start.” – Tina Sloan, Author and Award-Winning Actress

“Jan Moran is the queen of the epic romance.” —Rebecca Forster, USA Today Bestselling Author

“The women are intelligent and strong. At the core is a strong, close-knit family.” — Betty’s Reviews

The Chocolatier

“A delicious novel, makes you long for chocolate.” – Ciao Tutti

“Smoothly written…full of intrigue, love, secrets, and romance.” – Lekker Lezen

The Winemakers

“Readers will devour this page-turner as the mystery and passions spin out.” – Library Journal

“As she did in Scent of Triumph, Moran weaves knowledge of wine and winemaking into this intense family drama.” – Booklist

The Perfumer: Scent of Triumph

“Heartbreaking, evocative, and inspiring, this book is a powerful journey.” – Allison Pataki, New York Times Bestselling Author of The Accidental Empress

“A sweeping saga of one woman’s journey through World War II and her unwillingness to give up even when faced with the toughest challenges.” — Anita Abriel, Author of The Light After the War

“A captivating tale of love, determination and reinvention.” — Karen Marin, Givenchy Paris

“A stylish, compelling story of a family. What sets this apart is the backdrop of perfumery that suffuses the story with the delicious aromas – a remarkable feat!” — Liz Trenow, New York Times Bestselling Author of The Forgotten Seamstress

“Courageous heroine, star-crossed lovers, splendid sense of time and place capturing the unease and turmoil of the 1940s; HEA.” — Heroes and Heartbreakers

Books by Jan Moran

Summer Beach Series

Seabreeze Inn

Seabreeze Summer

Seabreeze Sunset

Seabreeze Christmas

Seabreeze Wedding

Seabreeze Book Club

Coral Cottage

Coral Cafe

Coral Holiday

The Love, California Series

Flawless

Beauty Mark

Runway

Essence

Style

Sparkle

20th-Century Historical

Hepburn’s Necklace

The Chocolatier

The Winemakers: A Novel of Wine and Secrets

The Perfumer: Scent of Triumph

Seabreeze Wedding

Summer Beach, Book 5

Jan Moran

Copyright © 2021 Jan Moran. All Rights Reserved.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Moran, Jan.

/ by Jan Moran

ISBN 978-1-64778-028-9 (epub ebook)

ISBN 978-1-64778-030-2 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-64778-029-6 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64778-032-6 (audiobook)

ISBN 978-1-64778-031-9 (large print)

Published by Sunny Palms Press. Cover design by Sleepy Fox Studios. Cover images copyright Deposit Photos.

Sunny Palms Press

9663 Santa Monica Blvd STE 1158

Beverly Hills, CA 90210 USA

www.sunnypalmspress.com

www.JanMoran.com

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

About the Author

1

Summer Beach, California

Fresh spring breezes tinged with salty ocean air swept through the old beach house. As Ivy descended the stairway, she drank in the soul-cleansing air that held the aromas of sun-warmed sand and fresh flowers. They’d had a marine layer for several days that kept the beach pinned under a blanket of gloomy gray and cool days, so this was a welcome change.

As she cleared the last step, she imagined the day ahead. On such a perfect spring day such as this, anything seemed possible. Yet with each passing day, it was one day fewer until her parents departed on their around-the-world sail. Although Ivy was thankful that they were fit and healthy enough for this adventure they’d longed for, she would miss them.

At a table in the foyer, her younger sister Shelly was arranging a bouquet of yellow and white blossoms she’d clipped from the garden. “What do you think of this arrangement?”

“You’ve brought the sunshine indoors,” Ivy said, pausing near the reception desk they’d placed near the entrance to welcome guests.

With an expert motion, Shelly stripped leaves from a creamy white rose before inserting it among a cluster of yellow roses and white daisies. “The morning sun flooded my room, so I woke up feeling this yellow-and-white theme.” Sweet scents were already permeating the fresh ocean air flowing through open windows.

Shelly grew most of the flowers and herbs they used on the property, and she was happily putting her horticulture degree to work. She nodded toward Ivy’s lemon-yellow sundress. “Looks like you’re channeling the sunshine, too.”

“I suppose I am. This is another dress Mom sent over.” Ivy touched the cotton seersucker fabric, soft from frequent washings.

Their mother had given them some of the clothes she couldn’t fit onto their new boat. Although Carlotta and Sterling Bay were in their seventies, they were still vibrant and adventurous. They had been planning this trip for more than a year, and their excitement was palpable.

Ivy couldn’t help but worry about their safety, and now she knew how her parents must have felt when each of their children set off on adventures. While Carlotta and Sterling were experienced sailors, unexpected winds could transform a calm sea into a hungry, treacherous creature.

“I’m going to miss Mom and Dad,” Shelly said, continuing to strip leaves from roses.

“We all will,” Ivy said. “But we’re adults, and this is might be their last chance for a long trip like this.”

Seeking to change the subject, Ivy picked up a glossy fern frond and idly twirled it. “How’s your new vegetable garden coming along?”

Shelly brushed back strands of chestnut hair that had escaped her messy topknot. “Thanks to the seeds I started in the hothouse, the cherry tomatoes should be ready next week, along with several types of lettuce. My big heirloom tomatoes still need a few more weeks.”

“I can hardly wait for those,” Ivy said.

Shelly drew her lower lip in and frowned. “Do you think we should be worried about Mom and Dad at their age?”

“They’re in better shape than I am,” Ivy replied as she stuffed the fern frond into the vase. She hated to think about anything that could happen to them.

Shelly curved her lips into a knowing half-smile. “You didn’t answer my question, so that’s a definite yes.”

“This journey is their dream,” Ivy said. “They’ve always supported ours. And they’re not leaving until after you and Mitch get married. Which we’re all guessing will be pretty soon, right?” Shelly and Mitch liked spontaneity, but Ivy wished they’d decide on a firm date. They had already pushed back one date Shelly had wanted. Ivy wondered if anything had changed between them.

Shelly cast her gaze to one side and drew in her lip. “This trip is different,” she said, avoiding Ivy’s question. “It’s such a long one. What if they—”

“Here you are,” Poppy called out, bounding around the corner. With her long blond hair swinging around her shoulders, she waved a message slip in her hand. “I’ve been looking for you, Aunt Ivy.”

Ivy turned toward her niece, an energetic young woman who worked at the inn between her marketing jobs in Los Angeles. “What’s up?”

Poppy grinned. “I just spoke to a woman who wants to talk to you about having a wedding here at the inn. And I also want you to review the story I wrote for my blogger friend—the one about the Seabreeze Inn being the perfect small wedding venue. Looks like we’re diving into the wedding business.”

Shelly shook her head. “I know we have to fill rooms during the off-season, but we should be careful that wedding parties don’t take over the inn. Remember what happened at Carol Reston’s daughter’s wedding? Our other guests played along only because Carol is a huge celebrity, but many won’t be crazy about rowdy wedding parties.”

“That one was different,” Ivy said. “They’re not always that rowdy.”

“I worked plenty of weddings in New York.” Shelly arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know why we need any wedding parties in the summer anyway. We were booked solid last year.”

“Weddings are scheduled year-round, and that’s business we need,” Ivy said firmly. “We can charge more fees for the use of the ballroom and dining room—and you can make extra money on the flowers.”

“We can be selective,” Poppy said, sounding conciliatory.

Ivy threw a look at her niece. They couldn’t afford to be too choosy. This month marked the first anniversary of the inn, and as with any new business, it had been a challenging year.

Summer Beach was a seasonal spot for summer tourists. Ivy and Shelly had made it through the lean winter months by creating special events that Poppy promoted. They had hosted a Halloween sleepover for kids and their parents, a Christmas and New Year’s week for singles, and a romantic Valentine’s weekend. They’d planned spa weeks and featured cooking classes. The last event was a family Easter egg hunt on the grounds, followed by a luncheon that Mitch catered from his Java Beach kitchen.

Poppy handed Ivy the message. “Eleanor York. She made sure to intimate that she is related to the royal Yorks.”

“See? I smell trouble already.” Shelly clipped the end of another sturdy rose stem with force and shot a look at Ivy. “With an attitude like that, she has to be a bridezilla.”

Poppy held up a finger. “Except she’s not the bride; she’s the bride’s mom.”

“A momzilla, then,” Shelly said. “They’re even worse. I handled flowers at enough weddings to know to steer clear of those designer-clad monsters.”

Poppy giggled. “Actually, she introduced herself as Mrs. Churchill York. The third.”

Shelly grimaced. “Does that mean she’s the third Mrs. Churchill? Or is Churchie the third unfortunate soul to bear that name?”

“The latter, I think.” Poppy’s eyes flashed with laughter as she joined in the merriment. “And who names a baby Churchill?”

“Enough, you two,” Ivy said, lowering her voice. “Remember what we agreed? No talking about the guests.”

“They’re not guests yet,” Shelly said, grinning.

Poppy blushed. “You’re right, Aunt Ivy.” Turning to Shelly, she added, “Eleanor loved your floral arrangements posted on our website. She said she hadn’t seen anything that creative outside of the pages of Town & Country.”

Shelly sniffed. “What she saw in that magazine was probably my work. The staff photographer was a friend and often came to shoot events where I’d provided flowers.”

Ivy seized on that. “See? You could make a lot of money from a job like this.” She turned to Poppy. “Have you searched them online? Surely they can’t be too hard to find.”

Poppy’s eyes widened. “Aunt Ivy, you told us not to look up guests.”

“She’s not a guest yet, is she?” When Shelly chuckled, Ivy quickly added, “This is business.”

“On it,” Poppy said, sliding behind the reception desk and flipping open her laptop.

Shelly rolled her eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She filled in bare spots in the arrangement with the remaining lacy fern fronds before brushing discarded leaves and stems into a paper bag.

Ivy touched Shelly’s shoulder. “A big floral job could help pay for the wedding and honeymoon you and Mitch want.”

Over the New Year’s holidays, Shelly had drummed up the courage to propose to Mitch Kline, the proprietor of Java Beach, the town’s most popular coffee shop. Although at twenty-nine, he was younger than Shelly, the two of them had grown close over the past year. They were both creative free-spirits with a strong work ethic. Ivy felt they were a good match. At thirty-eight, Shelly was eager to start a family.

As for Ivy, she and Bennett—the town’s mayor—had yet to set a date for their wedding. This wasn’t the first marriage for either of them, so Ivy wanted Shelly to celebrate her wedding first.

Shelly lifted her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “We could use the money. But the wedding guests had better behave themselves. You remember what happened at the last one. Fishing drunks out of the pool isn’t my idea of a great event.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Ivy spread her hands. “Let a famous actor drown? That would’ve landed us on the celebrity graveyard tour list.”

Shelly laughed. “I can just imagine how that would go.”

Poppy snapped her fingers. “Hey, that might be an idea. With such an old house, I wonder if anyone famous has ever died here?” Her eyes glittered at the possibilities. “Or even better—murdered? What with Amelia Erickson’s ghost already here, I could really promote that—”

“No,” Ivy and Shelly cried in unison, holding up their hands.

Ivy shivered. “There is no ghost. No spirits, no apparitions. Nothing. Rumors like that can chase away potential guests. Besides, we all have to sleep here.”

Shelly and Poppy suppressed smiles.

“I mean it.” Glaring at them, Ivy took her phone from her pocket. “Now, if you’ll watch the desk, Poppy, I’ll call Mrs. York. We’re also expecting that group from Los Angeles any time now. They called and asked to check in early.”

“All the rooms are ready,” Poppy said as she peered at her laptop screen. “Wow, the Yorks look loaded. Billionaire-rich. But I wonder why they’d want to have their daughter’s wedding here?”

“People have their reasons,” Ivy replied, though she was curious about the couple, too. “Maybe they want an intimate setting. Just because they’re wealthy doesn’t mean they want an extravagant affair.”

“I have to clip flowers for the guestrooms,” Shelly said, disappearing through the front door with her shears and pail.

A new guest strolled in, and Ivy nodded in greeting. Mrs. Mehta was a retired schoolteacher from Seattle and still had the sweet voice and manner of the kindergarten teacher she had been for years. She and Ivy had chatted at length over breakfast. Mrs. Mehta had spoken so fondly of her young students, many of whom still kept in contact with her. She had even taught the children of former students.

Meeting interesting people was a bonus that Ivy enjoyed, and their stories often moved her.

“Could one of you help me with the coffeemaker in the dining room?” Mrs. Mehta asked. “I don’t know how to use those new-fangled machines with those little cups. I’m afraid I’ll break it, but I sure would like another cup of that delicious coffee.”

“I’ll help you,” Poppy said. “Those are coffee pods. It’s easy to use them once you know how.”

Ivy eased behind the desk. “I’ll watch the front.”

Mrs. Mehta told Ivy she had traveled the length of the western coast from Seattle to see her children. She planned to go first to San Diego and then continue to Phoenix to visit another child. Although Summer Beach was just an hour north of San Diego, the older woman said she needed to rest from her drive before taking on five grandchildren.

Ivy could only imagine, but with Sunny and Misty now in their twenties, she might soon be a grandmother, too. Still, with Sunny in college and Misty determined to make a career out of acting, even marriage was on the distant horizon.

After Poppy left, Ivy put down her phone and glanced at her niece’s computer screen, squinting without her reading glasses. Images of Eleanor York dressed in eveningwear filled the screen, although photos of the husband weren’t clear. “Hmm, you certainly go to a lot of fancy parties. Who are you?”

She clicked on another link, and photos of an older professorial gentleman in a herringbone coat popped up. Hardly the same one, she thought, dismissing the image.

Ivy had attended the occasional office holiday party with Jeremy, so she had a couple of black evening dresses she rotated. As a stay-at-home mom, she hadn’t needed much. She peered closer and enlarged an image. Eleanor York’s jewelry was quite impressive.

As guest voices floated downstairs, Ivy felt a twinge of guilt about snooping. She closed the laptop and rested her hands on it. Her fingers were bare of rings. She stroked the faint indentation where her wedding band had rested, growing tighter over the years until she didn’t bother taking it off.

She had a few other rings she wore from time to time, including a modest, ruby-and-diamond ring she’d found tucked under one of the wooden floorboards in her bedroom. It had belonged to the original owner of the house, Amelia Erickson, whose presence they all felt from time to time.

Amelia had left a trail of secrets in the old house she had christened Las Brisas Del Mar, from historic art and important jewels she’d tucked away to hidden rooms she’d built in the attic during the war.

Yet after discovering a cache of beautiful vintage Christmas ornaments in the garage, Ivy couldn’t imagine there was any other place where something could be stashed away.

Amelia and her husband Gustav had been important art collectors from Europe. During the Second World War, Amelia had rescued significant works from Europe that Ivy had promptly returned to their owners.

After Gustav’s death, Amelia had been hospitalized for Alzheimer’s disease in Switzerland, where she passed away decades ago. The grand old home, once a glittering summer gathering place for the intellectual, artistic, and accomplished, had gone silent—frozen with its mid-century decor. The estate had been managed for decades until such time that a long-lost heir was deemed unlikely to surface. Aside from occasional charity fundraising events, the house had seen little use in years.

Ivy turned over her hand. The old callus at the top of her palm where her wedding band had rested was nearly invisible now. After Jeremy had died, it had been months before Ivy could bring herself to remove her wedding band.

Soon, another would take its place. Her heart ached at the bittersweet thought.

Ivy’s phone trilled, startling her. Carlotta Reina Bay’s number floated to the screen. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”

“If you haven’t had lunch yet, I’m meeting my friend Ginger Delavie at her granddaughter’s beach cafe. I thought you might like to join me and see them at the same time.”

“When?”

“About half an hour? I know it’s last minute, but we just decided.”

Through the window, Ivy could see a car pull to the curb in front of the house. Behind them, Ivy spied Bennett walking toward the inn from the village. She recalled that he’d left his SUV at the mechanic’s shop, and he’d had a meeting with the Summer Beach Retailers Association at Java Beach.

“I’d love to, but I think our guests just arrived,” Ivy said. “Shelly is off to the nursery, and Poppy has a client meeting.”

“Can Sunny watch the inn for you?”

“She’s at school today.”

Ivy’s daughter would soon graduate from college. If guests needed anything, Ivy would have to be available. As the weekend neared, drop-in guests often arrived, too. Although they couldn’t afford to miss any opportunities, Ivy wanted to see her mother, too. “Would you like to come by later?”

Just then, laughter burst through the open door that Bennett stood holding open for a group of young women. “After you, ladies.”

“What a gentleman,” one woman said, smiling flirtatiously. Four twenty-something women stepped into the foyer, their arms around each other and still laughing.

Carlotta’s voice floated through the phone. “Sounds like someone is having a good time there. Why don’t you and Shelly come over tomorrow instead? I have more things to give you.”

“I’d like that.” Ivy clicked off the phone and turned to the group in front of her. “Welcome to the Seabreeze Inn.”

A pale blond woman wearing a rhinestone tiara and a glittery white satin sash that read Bride stepped up to the desk. She gave her name, and Ivy smiled.

“Bachelorette party?”

The three women behind the bride-to-be let out a cheer. The last woman through the door was checking out Bennett, who cleared his throat behind an amused grin.

“Are you checking in, too?” the woman asked him. She wore a short, form-fitting pink dress, and her long brunette hair was slightly disheveled.

“You might say I live here,” Bennett said as he winked at Ivy.

The woman twirled a strand of hair and smiled at him. “I sure hope to see you by the pool. We’re going for a dip right away.”

“The mayor might have work to do this afternoon,” Ivy cut in.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen a mayor with such muscles. Very impressive. I’m Carrie, by the way.” She extended her hand.

“Bennett Dylan, at your service,” he said, shaking her hand as Ivy suppressed a laugh. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have some calls to make.”

Leaning toward Ivy, Carrie asked, “Is he married? I didn’t see a ring.”

“Almost,” Ivy said with a small smile.

“Now that’s a challenge if I ever heard one.”

The bride, an earnest-looking young woman with clear blue eyes, turned to Ivy. “I’m Rachel Evans. My cousin and my friends obviously started the party before I arrived. I’m the designated driver anyway.” She leaned in. “I’ll try to keep them quiet.”

Recalling her bachelorette party from years ago, Ivy smiled, though she would keep an eye on the outgoing Carrie who had flirted with Bennett, even though she was half his age.

Taking keys from the drawer, Ivy said, “I’ve put you all in the Sunset Suites behind the main house so that you won’t disturb anyone. We simply ask that the pool area be quiet after eleven at night so that other guests can sleep.” Mrs. Mehta was the only other new guest, so Ivy was glad to have this party here.

A few long-term guests were still in residence at the inn after a fire had ravaged their homes on the ridgetop overlooking the town, such as Imani Jones, the local attorney-turned-flower-vendor, and her son, Jamir, who was studying pre-med. Their home had been rebuilt and would be ready as soon as the interior was finished.

Another guest, Gilda, wrote for magazines. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere. She’d told Ivy that she and Pixie, her Chihuahua, liked the ease of living at the inn. And although Bennett’s house had been repaired, he’d leased it to a family and decided to remain in the old chauffeur’s apartment above the garages behind the house. Ivy had been glad to see him stay.

“First thing we’re going to do is dive into the pool,” Rachel said. “It looked gorgeous in the website photos.”

“Julia Morgan designed it,” Ivy explained. “She was the architect who designed Hearst Castle on the northern coast of California.”

“That’s so cool,” Carrie said, speaking up again. “I’ve read about her. I’m going to be an architect, too. Starting in September.” She did a little happy dance.

“We’re all graduating in June,” Rachel said. “I’m the only one not going on to graduate school right away. My cousin Carrie will design our homes, Belinda will clean up the ocean, and Giselle will handle our taxes. I might catch up in another year or two.” She blushed slightly.

“After the baby,” one of her friends said before clapping her hand over her mouth.

Rachel sighed. “I just found out. My boyfriend Topper and I were both going to law school. We hadn’t planned it this way, but now we’ll have to get married sooner…” Her voice trailed off, and a flush gathered in her cheeks. “Before, I was only worried about the wedding. Now, that’s the least of my concerns.”

“Except that her mom is such a perfectionist,” Carrie interjected.

Rachel nodded. “At this point, a wedding seems almost irrelevant,” she said, lowering her voice almost to a whisper. “I’m scared to death. I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mother. What if I’m terrible at it?”

Ivy remembered her early, angst-filled years of motherhood. “Your love is what matters most.” She smiled at the nervous young woman. “Maybe you’d like to go to the local day spa for a massage while you’re here.”

Rachel’s eyes lit with relief. “I’d love that. The others want to go to Spirits & Vine tomorrow, but I’d rather do something else. Just the thought of smelling alcohol in a bar—even a very nice one—turns my stomach.” Paling at the idea, Rachel pressed a hand against her abdomen. “I almost didn’t come at all, but they insisted.”

“Under the circumstances, this is a low-key version of what we’d originally planned,” Carrie added. “We all sneaked out of town to do this.”

Ivy withdrew a card from the desk and handed it to Rachel. “Here’s the number to the spa. Let me know if you want me to call for appointments.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said, tucking the card into her pocket. “I’d like that.”

Ivy showed the young women to their rooms. They were about Sunny’s age, and Ivy couldn’t help smiling at their constant chatter. And why not? They were on the brink of exciting, life-changing adventures.

Ivy remembered how exciting those years had been—when anything and everything seemed possible. Life could change in a moment—like when she’d decided to move to Boston for school or when she’d met Jeremy in a coffee shop.

As Ivy closed the door behind Rachel, she made a note to put another lined trash bin in her room near the bed. The young woman looked queasy, and Ivy thought she might be suffering from morning sickness. She’d also bring a basket of ginger ale and peppermint tea, along with plain saltine crackers, to the room.

During this past year, Ivy had learned that little touches could make guests more comfortable, and she enjoyed doing it. She’d spent her adult life taking care of her family, so this role came naturally to her. Except for her painting, she hadn’t trained for much else.

At college, she’d studied art history. She might have gone to work for a museum or an auction house when she was young, but she and Jeremy had started their family right away. 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 in this season,” Ivy said. Shelly had brought the neglected grounds back to life with trimming, fresh plantings, and a lot of care.

Shelly snipped a pale pink rose that was just unfurling from its bud. “Pink and white seem like sweet bride-to-be colors.”

Ivy smiled at her comment. “Is that what you plan on having?”

“Me? Oh, no.” Shelly twirled the flower she held. “I’d like to have the most exotic, fascinating arrangements this coast has ever seen.” She laughed as she tucked the shears into the back pocket of her worn jeans. “Though what I’ll probably do is clip flowers from the garden for our small affair. Large weddings come with a lot of headaches. Mitch and I don’t need any of that. It’s about the marriage, not the wedding.”

“Yes, but weddings are nice to look back on.” Ivy hesitated. She didn’t want to cause concern for Shelly, but she needed to plan, too. “Are you and Mitch still planning on getting married before Mom and Dad leave for their trip?”

“I’d like to.” Shelly handed the pink rose to Ivy. “Maybe I’m not as free-spirited as I pretend to be.” She drew a breath to say something else but hesitated.

“You’re exactly who you are, Shelly. Why try to be anything else? That’s exhausting.”

A thoughtful expression filled Shelly’s face. “That’s what Mitch says, too. But I’m ready for my real life to begin. I’ve waited years to sail into my sunrise.”

Ivy knew what she meant. Shelly wanted to start a family, and her former boyfriend in New York, Ezzra, had dangled a promise of a future together for years—without specifically committing. After numerous break-ups, he’d lure her back with another promise, though the future Shelly longed for never materialized.

Now, Ivy had her suspicions, though she might be treading on sensitive nerves. “What’s holding you back?”

Shelly fiddled with a long strand of chestnut hair that had escaped her messy topknot, twirling it around her finger. “Mitch might be having second thoughts.”

“Or maybe he needed time to adjust to the idea of marriage,” Ivy said, sliding her arm across Shelly’s shoulder and drawing her close. “What did he tell you?”

Shelly’s eyes glistened, and she blinked hard. “He doesn’t have to say anything. I know the signs. Ezrra painted them in vivid color for me. The truth is, I can’t drag a date out of Mitch. I gave him a choice of three, and one has already passed.”

Ivy tried to remain upbeat. “That might not mean what you think it does.”

“It’s pretty clear to me.” Shelly scrunched her eyebrows together. “I’m the one who proposed. Mitch got swept up with the idea, and now he’s had time to reconsider. If I’m honest with myself, I should have known he wasn’t ready. He’s a young, good-looking surfer and still has years to play around before settling down. And he could find someone a lot younger who doesn’t have a shelf-date nearing expiration.”

“That last part is hardly true.” Thirty-eight wasn’t necessarily too old, but Shelly’s age did increase her medical risk of pregnancy. Yet Mitch seemed as devoted as ever. What was Ivy missing?

Ivy brought the rose to her nose, inhaling as she thought. “Have you tried to talk about this?”

“We’re both avoiding the obvious.”

“You might be misinterpreting his actions,” Ivy said. “From what I’ve seen, Mitch is completely enamored with you. Maybe he simply wants to get to know you better. Or he wants to be spontaneous.”

Shelly pursed her lips. “It’s been a whole year. And I don’t see Bennett backing out on you. He knows what he wants. Maybe you two should get married before Mom and Dad leave.”

“Speaking of Mom, she asked us to come over tomorrow to pick up another load of housewares and clothing she wants to leave with us,” Ivy said, swiftly avoiding Shelly’s comment. Since they had both become engaged over the holidays, Ivy had been concerned about the competition that Shelly might feel. “Ask her what she thinks about Mitch.”

“Maybe I will.” Shelly drew fingers across her cheeks. “After I put these flowers in the guest rooms, I’ll head to Hidden Garden. Need anything?”

“Not a thing. Say hello to Leilani and Roy for me.” Ivy sent the owners business whenever she could. They had been kind enough to donate a tree to them for Christmas last year. “Our new guests are going for a swim soon, so I’ll put the flowers in their rooms then.”

“Thanks,” Shelly said. When she passed the tin of flowers, Ivy chuckled. “Wait a minute. You have stripes on your cheeks.”

Looking at her hands, Shelly grinned. “Guess I should’ve worn my gloves before digging in the dirt.” She lifted an edge of her T-shirt and wiped her face. “Better?”

“Gorgeous.” Ivy smoothed Shelly’s knotted hair and tucked the loose ends into her bun.

“You always did take care of me,” Shelly said. “Even now.”

“You take care of yourself pretty well. Imagine, you could still be in New York with Ezzra.” Ivy hugged her sister. “This will all work out.”

In Shelly’s favor, she hoped. If Mitch backed out of the wedding as Ezzra had, Shelly would be devastated.

2

The next morning, a gusty breeze lifted Ivy’s natural straw hat, sending it tumbling across the terrace and onto the beach. She cried out and started after it.

“Got it,” Bennett called out, racing from behind. He scooped it up and brought it back to her. “Good morning,” he said in a slightly gravelly voice. He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Looking for this?”

“Thanks,” she said, catching her breath. “I just bought this one, too.”

She’d lost her last hat to the ocean when the winds had teased it from her head and tossed it to a wave, which stole it out to sea like a newly prized possession. At least the straw would break down, unlike the plastic that careless visitors left on the beach. Like many Summer Beach locals, she often carried a bag to pick up and dispose of discarded wrappers, bottles, and broken beach toys that could prove deadly to marine life.

Bennett held the hat above her head, his hazel eyes twinkling with love and laughter. His short, cropped hair was sun-streaked, and daily runs on the beach had toned his physique. Everything about him quickened her heart rate.

“And what’s on your mind?” she asked, although she could just imagine—because she had the same thoughts. This was her fiancé, the man she’d promised her heart to a few months ago at Christmas. At her age, it almost seemed silly to call him that.

A smile danced on his lips. “Don’t I get some sort of reward?”

Lifting onto her toes, she gave him a soft kiss that brought a smile to each of them. “Consider that a down payment.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Ivy arched a brow. “I certainly hope so.”

“When do you think that might be?” Bennett asked, threading his fingers with hers. His voice held a note of anticipation.

“Soon enough,” she said, smiling. “After Shelly gets married. And then, when we can find a quiet week.” With summer on the horizon and weekends the busiest time at the Seabreeze Inn, Ivy couldn’t imagine leaving the inn short-handed.

“We’ll make time. Everyone will understand and cover for you.” Bennett brushed her hair back and placed the hat snugly on her head. “And just to prove that they can manage without you, I have a surprise planned for you.”

“What?”

Instead of answering, Bennett drew up the strings that she’d carelessly let fall down her back. “This is what these are for.”

She nudged him. “As if I hadn’t grown up on the beach, too.” She’d meant to rearrange her hat, but she’d been in a hurry for a beach walk before the day began. Her curiosity piqued, she turned to him, wondering what he had in mind. “Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“Nope.”

She punched him playfully in the arm, and he only laughed.

“Later,” he said as he slung his arm across her shoulders. “Where’s the rest of your morning crew? I thought you’d be out for a walk by now.”

Obviously, she wasn’t going to get anything out of him now. “The bachelorette party that checked in last night stayed out late. Between the sun and the wine, they didn’t even make it down for breakfast. I waited as long as I could for my walk because they had been enthusiastic about joining me yesterday.”

Guests could walk the beach on their own, of course, but Ivy liked to lead because they often had questions about the village—the best restaurants, shops, and entertainment. She could answer all the guests’ questions at once while they enjoyed a brisk walk and fresh sea air.

Most visitors came to enjoy the beach and the small-town ambiance. Aside from the local farmers market, the one-screen movie theater, and the wine shop that often featured jazz artists passing through to San Diego from Los Angeles, there wasn’t much to do in Summer Beach. The community organized some events, such as the Independence Day fireworks and the holiday coastal cruise. Boat owners went all out decorating their watercraft. Last year, Ivy and Shelly and Poppy had organized an arts and crafts fair that brought in a lot of new visitors to Summer Beach. But the main attraction was still the beach.

Bennett rubbed his stubbled chin. “I missed my early run, too. Had an early morning call with a client back east. They’re looking for a house in Summer Beach, but they’re also considering a lot to build a custom home. I still have just enough time for a quick run before heading to City Hall.”