Sterling Bay was tall, trim, and as fit as men half his age. His face shone with love as he held out his hand for his wife.
Carlotta slid her hand into his. “Gracias, mi amor.”
Ivy loved to watch her parents together. They were so elegant, so old-school. Carlotta Reina Bay was an accomplished woman who had built a successful business alongside her husband. They sourced artwork and artisanal crafts from all over the world. Her mother’s ancestors had been rooted in California when it was still part of Mexico—long before statehood and admission to the United States. One ancestor had been a Mexican ambassador to Spain, while a later one had been an American ambassador to Spain. Her father had become enamored with her mother in college.
Now that Ivy was older and understood the complexities of marriage, she was fascinated by her parents’ relationship. They were respectful, honest, and accepting of each other. Even after all these years, they were still very much in love—and the best of friends. That sort of relationship was all that Ivy wanted.
Full trust, no secrets.
She’d thought she’d had it with Jeremy, but after his death, she’d learned otherwise. Though she’d let that go, casting those feelings of anger and disillusionment out to the sea, she couldn’t deny that there was still a spot in her gut that churned at his mention, though it had diminished.
Would it always be that way? She sighed. Maybe, but she could rise above it.
She was mature enough to know the difference between endorphin-fueled young love and the type that developed like fine wine over time. Not that both couldn’t be true in a long relationship, but sometimes the evolution didn’t happen, and the sweet nectar turned sour.
As Ivy strolled across the sand toward flames that stretched into a darkening sky, she took Bennett’s hand. Could they have the type of relationship her parents had? She loved him, but she was more guarded now. And her life was more complicated than it had been when she’d met Jeremy in college.
When they arrived at the bonfire, Ivy and Bennett greeted friends and gathered around the crackling fire. She gazed at familiar faces illuminated in the flickering light, thankful for their welcome and support over the past months. Maybe Summer Beach had been waiting for her all along.
As waves curled toward the shore and flames danced in the ocean breeze, Ivy shivered. Whether there was magic in the air or only an abundance of negative ions, the air seemed charged with fresh possibilities.
Chapter 3
Ivy and Shelly burst into the kitchen, panting after a brisk beach walk. A chill laced the morning breeze, reminding Ivy of a New England autumn.
“Another coffee to warm up?” Ivy asked.
Shelly shivered and blew on her hands. “How about hot chocolate? It’s the beginning of the Christmas season, after all.”
“And we have to come up with a better plan for the winter.” Ivy shrugged off her fleece jacket and hung it on a hook by the back door.
The house was quiet. Misty had boarded a plane to Boston, and the rest of the family had returned to their homes. The only guests remaining were Bennett, Gilda and Pixie, and Imani and Jamir. Barely enough cashflow to keep the lights on. And worse for Ivy and Shelly, Gilda’s home would be ready soon, as would Imani’s—though Ivy would be happy for them.
As Ivy measured milk and cream into a saucepan, she turned over ideas in her mind. What could she and Shelly do to bring in winter guests? Their usual social media posts were no longer working. While she considered this problem, she added broken chunks of chocolate to the liquid—along with a scoop of dark brown sugar, a splash of vanilla extract, and a pinch of ancho chili powder.
“Let’s brainstorm,” Shelly said, opening a junk drawer where they kept odds-and-ends. She pulled out a couple of small pads of paper.
Aside from the financial implications, Ivy also missed the activity of their guests. Gilda worked late into the night writing articles for magazines and slept until noon. Bennett and Imani worked all day, and Jamir was at school. Sunny was attending classes at the same university, which kept her occupied as well.
Too quiet. There were no vacationers asking for restaurant recommendations or inquiring about the history of the house. Ivy stirred the mixture and adjusted the flame under the saucepan.
“Shelly, would you turn on some music? This quiet is killing me.”
“Jazz or holiday songs?”
“How about jazzy holiday tunes? We need to channel all things Christmas for inspiration.”
While the milk and chocolate warmed on the stovetop, Ivy and Shelly pulled out stools and sat at the counter.
Ivy tapped her pencil on a pad. “We’ve got to think of something to get us through not only Christmas but the entire winter until spring. In Southern California, when the temperature plummets to light-jacket weather, everyone heads to Palm Springs and breaks out the swimsuits. What will bring them back here?”
“The art festival was a big success,” Shelly replied. “Though it’s too late for a holiday fair.”
“Is it? We could contact all the artists who were here this summer to see if they’re available.” Ivy pushed back from the long serving bar to check the milk mixture.
Shelly brought out whipping cream from one of the vintage refrigerators. “We can do that, but we don’t have much tourist traffic to offer them.”
“That’s what we all need.” Ivy cast an eye toward the refrigerator as she whisked the melted chocolate with the steamed milk and cream. “Gertie’s been humming louder since Thanksgiving. Think we overworked her?”
“Maybe.” Shelly frowned. “I hope she recovers.”
“Refrigerator repairs aren’t in the budget,” Ivy said, pouring the hot chocolate into a pair of mugs. “It’s time Gert picked up the slack.”
Shelly shook out her wind-blown hair, twisted it into a messy bun, and jabbed a pencil through the topknot to secure it. “I heard an interesting perspective. When I was picking up poinsettias at the Hidden Garden, Leilani said she was surprised we were still open.”
Ivy whipped the cream in a blender with a little powdered sugar and cinnamon. She plopped a scoop into each mug, added a sprinkle of nutmeg, and perched on a stool across from Shelly. “Why would Leilani say that?”
“Seems a lot of places here close for the winter,” Shelly said. “She and Roy close the garden shop and visit her family in Hawaii in the winter. The high school garden club takes care of the plants until they return. That’s kind of cool. Leilani and Roy help support that program at the school and give the kids jobs.” Shelly cupped her hands around the warm mug and sipped her hot chocolate. “Mmm, that’s delicious. As good as Mom’s.”
“It’s her recipe,” Ivy said, smiling. “Anything else that closes?”
“The other inn and some cafés by the beach,” Shelly replied. “I don’t think anyone expected us to stay open.”
“That could explain why we haven’t received any holiday party bookings. But now it’s too late.”
“Maybe not. We could offer a first-year discount.” Shelly snapped her fingers. “I’ll put up a flyer at Java Beach. Word travels fast there.”
“That might work. I was hoping to get some of the locals’ guest overflow during Thanksgiving, though we might attract some at Christmas.” Ivy brightened. “Maybe we could have a holiday music festival. Celia’s students might like to put on a show here. This is a beautiful venue for their parents and family. They could dress up and take photographs in the ballroom.”