“Um, I don’t remember,” Ivy said. “Our parents got a new phone number a few years ago, but it’s on my phone. Shelly?”
“Sorry, I never remember phone numbers anymore.”
Sheepishly, Ivy asked, “Do you have a phone charger?”
“Here you are.” Mitch brought one out from under the counter. “Charges are free. You two from around here?”
“We just flew in from Boston,” Ivy said. “And we’re moving into the old Erickson house.”
“Las Brisas.” Mitch let out a whistle. “You’re going to be busy.”
“Why do you say that?” Ivy asked.
“Place needs a lot of work. A real beauty, though.” He grinned at Shelly. “If you need help, I’m pretty handy.”
“We can’t afford much,” Ivy interjected. “We’d planned on doing most of the work ourselves.”
The woman with the rhinestone visor behind them spoke up, and her voice had a sharp edge to it now. “The new owner was trying to tear it down and build some fancy resort. Is that you?”
“No.” Ivy stiffened. “That was my husband.”
“Ladies, meet Darla,” Mitch said, amused at the interchange. “Your new neighbor.”
The woman stood and stalked over to them. Spangled necklaces around her neck jangled with each step. “You tell him that if one bulldozer crosses that property, we’ll stop it in its tracks, you hear me?” She jabbed a bejeweled finger at them. “We’re organized here, and we don’t stand for people thinking they can buy their way in and destroy our community. A high-rise resort, my eye,” she snorted. “This is Summer Beach, not Miami or New York City.”
“I didn’t come here to do that,” Ivy said evenly. “And my husband won’t either. He died last year.”
“Well, can’t say I’m sorry,” Darla huffed. “You better watch yourself in this town.”
“Hey, Darla,” Mitch cut in. “They’re new here. Give them a break, will you?” He turned back to them. “I’m really sorry to hear that. Coffee while you wait?” He poured two cups for them. “Medium roast. Sugar and cream behind you.”
“How much do I owe you?” Ivy asked, ignoring Darla.
Mitch shrugged off her question. “Welcome to Summer Beach. Most of us are pretty friendly.” He dropped his voice. “Even Darla, once you get to know her.” His eyes rested on Shelly again.
“I’ll pass,” Shelly said, turning her back to the woman.
“She’s still your neighbor,” Mitch said.
Shelly threw a look over her shoulder. “Clearly we’re not going to be best friends.”
“Just when I thought things were getting quiet around here.” Chuckling, Mitch nodded toward the deck, where rustic wooden beach loungers were facing the ocean, and the water lapped the shoreline. Beachgoers were strolling or lounging under umbrellas, and children were playing in the surf. “Nice view outside while you wait for the charge.”
Ivy dug out a couple of bills and dropped them into a tip jar that had a Jimmy Buffett Margaritaville sticker plastered to it. “Sounds like my husband made quite an impression here.”
“You might say Jeremy Marin brought the community together,” Mitch said.
Shelly cut in. “Against him, you mean.”
Mitch started to reply, but with a glance at Ivy, he changed his tone. “Awfully big place for one person. Do you have a large family?”
Ivy and Shelly exchanged glances. “We’re going to run it as an inn,” Ivy said. Might as well announce it. They’d need to turn a profit quickly, and word-of-mouth advertising was about all she could afford.
Darla narrowed her eyes. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”
A grin spread across Mitch’s face, and Ivy saw Shelly watching him with interest. “No doubt you’ll have some interesting guests. Tack a flyer on the community board over there. Everyone checks it out. Y’know, that’s a cool idea. Few people have enough room for all their friends that want to visit in the summer. You should be busy.”
“Thanks,” Ivy said. Mitch seemed kind, and he was a welcome change from Bennett.
The two sisters made their way outside and sat under a beach umbrella in a pair of beach loungers on the sand.
“Jeremy sure made a lot of enemies here,” Shelly said, sipping her coffee and surreptitiously watching Mitch inside.
“Another one of his messes to clean up.” Stirring her coffee, Ivy said, “What do you think he meant about interesting guests? Seemed like an odd comment.”
“Maybe this place attracts a lot of characters.”
“Guess so, if Darla and Bennett are examples.” Ivy gazed out over the ocean swells and watched the waves rushing the shoreline. “That house seems like a lightning rod for controversy in this town. Think I’m in over my head here?”
“I’ve watched you handle a lot worse,” Shelly said. “I have faith in you—and your crazy decision.” She chuckled. “I told you I’m in. Not changing your mind already, are you?”
“Course not.” Yet she had an odd feeling that there was more to Las Brisas than she knew.
A few minutes later, Mitch sauntered out to them holding her phone. “You’ve got a small charge now.” He handed it to her. “And here’s my card. I put my cell number on it if you need anything.”
Ivy noticed that Mitch gave his card to Shelly. She attracted men like stray puppy dogs. Mitch clearly liked Shelly, but he also looked a lot younger. Still, it was good to know someone other than Bennett here.
“Thanks,” Ivy said. “First, our luggage.” She tapped Bennett’s name and passed the phone to Shelly. “You’re on.”
Shelly took the phone from her while Ivy looked on. “It’s ringing…wait, what?” Shelly snapped the phone off. “He just sent it to voice mail.”
“Let me see about that.” Ivy pressed his number again. This time it went straight to voice mail. “What nerve.”
“Text him.”
Ivy punched in a message and sent it. She waited a minute, but there was no reply. “How unprofessional. What if I had changed my mind about re-listing the house?” Now, even if she decided to sell the house, Bennett Dylan would be the last person she’d call for assistance. What kind of real estate agent sends his clients to voice mail, declines
