Shelly had brought in autumn colors throughout the foyer and dining room with tall shoots of goldenrod paired with orange chrysanthemum and curly willow branches from the garden. She’d arranged vases on the long sideboard, where they usually set up breakfast for guests.
Imani, one of their long-term guests who’d lost her home in the Ridgetop fire last spring, had given them armfuls of sunflowers from Blossoms, her flower stand in the village, before leaving to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with her family in Los Angeles to the north. Overhead, a vintage chandelier cast a warm glow on the antique table they’d discovered under a blanket on the lower level.
“Elena, you can place the silverware,” Ivy said. “Misty, you and Sunny can put out the china.”
With the girls’ help, the table was set. A little while later, Ivy drafted more of the cousins to carry platters of food from the kitchen.
Shelly clanged an old silver bell. “Dinner is served,” she said.
After everyone was seated and Sterling delivered the blessing, he and Bennett—the Summer Beach mayor who was one of their long-term guests—carved the turkeys. Ivy passed around vegetarian options for others. Everyone dug in, and dinner flew by amidst happy chatter and good-natured joking.
Ivy saw Sunny shoot Bennett a side-eyed look as he was talking. She was pushing her food around her plate. Fortunately, Bennett didn’t notice—or if he did, he chose to ignore Sunny’s sullen attitude.
However, others were noticing. Ivy sighed. With reluctance, she let go of Bennett’s hand under the table. She twisted the modest ruby ring she wore—one that the slightly eccentric Amelia Erickson had hidden under a loose floorboard in the bedroom.
Ivy watched Sunny. Since her father’s death two years ago, it appeared that despite her earlier approval, Sunny was still wrestling with the idea of another man interested in her mother. Or maybe she realized that dating might lead to a permanent situation.
Ivy cleared her throat. “Anything wrong, Sunny?”
Sunny gave an exaggerated shrug. “I was just thinking about how Dad used to carve the turkey on Thanksgiving. After that, he’d take us for a walk around Back Bay and look at the lights.”
“Those are good times to remember,” Ivy said softly. It was only natural that her daughter was grieving, but Ivy suspected Sunny’s attitude had more to do with something—or someone—else.
Sunny twisted her lips and flicked her mashed potatoes. “I wish we could have stayed there. You didn’t need to have a great big house to play queen.”
The conversation around the table quieted.
“That choice was forced on me.” Ivy pressed her lips together and ignored the caustic edge to Sunny’s voice. Due to the debt Jeremy had left, Ivy had to sell their Boston flat. He’d drained their retirement to buy this beach house without her knowledge. With its historic designation and extensive need of repair, it hadn’t sold in a year, so Ivy had little choice but to move in and rent rooms—or lose it to a tax sale. She tried to remember only the good times, but sometimes it wasn’t easy.
Sunny threw another disparaging look at Bennett. A couple of months ago, Ivy thought Sunny had accepted him as a family friend—and someone suitable for her mother to date. Now her daughter was acting downright rude.
“Yeah, but my friends—”
Misty cut in. “Hey, we could walk around Summer Beach.”
“Not the same.” Sunny smashed peas with her fork. “Remember that year Dad bought us new bikes and couldn’t wait until Christmas to give them to us?”
“That was a good year, and so is this one,” Misty said, swiftly changing the subject again. “I’m having the best time. Thanks, Mom. Here’s to you and Aunt Shelly and Poppy.” As Misty raised her glass in a toast, Sunny pushed back from the table and left.
“Let her go,” Carlotta said. “She’ll cool off, and there will be plenty of leftovers.”
As everyone went back to their conversation, Ivy sighed. She’d speak to Sunny later. Leaning toward Bennett, she whispered, “I’m sorry for Sunny’s behavior.”
“It’s tough to lose a parent,” Bennett said. “She’ll come around. But thank you for including me in the family celebration.”
“My parents think the world of you.” Ivy squeezed his hand.
“And what does their daughter think?” Bennett’s eyes crinkled into a smile.
Ivy appreciated his humor, and she loved the warmth of his affection. “Now you’re just looking for compliments.”
Though Ivy and Bennett had once had a disagreement surrounding the use of the historic home as an inn—in part thanks to her husband, whom the city had sued to keep him from razing the house and building a high-rise resort—she and the mayor had become close over the summer.
Ivy and Bennett were more than friends now, though Ivy was hesitant to take the next step, partly because of Sunny. At the end of the summer, Sunny arrived from a semester and summer abroad to start her last year at a university in San Diego. While the locals had grown accustomed to seeing their widowed mayor with the town’s latest newcomer, Sunny could be critical.
Yet Bennett was never far away. The Ridgetop fire had also damaged his home, so he was renting the apartment above the garage.
Sterling sat back and patted his stomach. “You’ve all outdone yourselves this year. I can’t eat another bite.”
“I hope you left room for pie,” Poppy said.
“Maybe we should wait a little while,” Ivy suggested.
“In the meantime, who is on dish duty with me?” Shelly asked, interrupting the Bay family chatter and laughter in the dining room.
Ivy groaned at the thought of the mess they’d left in the kitchen, but she loved having her family here. The house had been designed for large gatherings. Today had been a good day of laughter, love, and giving thanks—except for a little attitude from Sunny.
“You wash, Shelly, and I’ll dry.” Ivy turned to Bennett. “Would you help us clear the table?”
He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to ask.”
Ivy picked up her plate and began to rise from her chair.
Behind them, Ivy’s brother Flint clapped a hand on her shoulder. “No, you don’t. Put that plate down.” He snapped his fingers at his grown children. “Your aunts cooked for you, now clear this table, and make us proud. Skyler, Blue, Jewel, Sierra—move it, kids. No excuses.” He winked at Ivy. “That’s the way we roll.”
A collective, good-natured grumble rose from the other end of the table.
Elena stood and clinked her glass. “Come on, mates, quit your whining. I’ll turn on some music. It will be fun.” Having grown up in Australia, she still had a light accent that Ivy loved.
Grateful, Ivy sank back into her chair. “I would love the help. Thank you all.”
“These overgrown kids need to take some responsibility,” Flint said, chuckling.
Ivy relaxed and sipped a little wine. She and Shelly had been cooking for days and arguing about which one of them had the idea of inviting the entire Bay clan for Thanksgiving—and Christmas. The Seabreeze Inn had plenty of room for their extended family. Why not start a new tradition?
This year, Ivy and Shelly had a great deal to be thankful for—starting with the roof over their heads. It was their turn to relieve their mother and sisters-in-law of the annual celebration. Living in Boston, Ivy hadn’t spent a Thanksgiving with her family in almost two decades. Travel from the east coast to California would have been too rushed during the short holiday, and Jeremy had often worked the day after Thanksgiving, leaving little time for long flights.