Jeremy Marin, a millennial techie from Boston with a scruffy beard, black jeans, and expensive sunglasses had breezed into town one weekend, intent on finding a lot to build on. When he learned that the Erickson estate might be for sale, he made a cash offer, which was instantly accepted. Bennett’s real estate partner Claire had clearly explained that the historic zoning precluded him from tearing down the house and building on the lot. He’d even signed an acknowledgment of the fact.
That should have been the end of it, but over the next year, Jeremy mounted a battle with the zoning commission to change the zoning. How can you call this historic, or even historical? Jeremy had huffed in his French accent. The man had ranted about the age of buildings in Paris, or as he’d said, real historical buildings.
If Bennett were given to violence, he’d have punched him.
To a person, Summer Beach residents were dead set against Jeremy’s plan. Las Brisas del Mar was a cherished part of Summer Beach history. The local residents loved the old landmark, even though it had been shuttered for decades.
Occasionally Mrs. Erickson’s estate and property managers opened the house for a fundraising event. The older woman had been partial to children’s and medical charities and environmental causes. Supporters would flock to events because they seldom had a chance to see the property any other way.
Bennett had grown up hearing fabulous stories from neighbors who had attended parties at the estate. Mrs. Erickson had always been generous to the community. From donating money to establish a wildlife sanctuary to funding a children’s hospital, she had long been a Summer Beach benefactor. He only wished he’d had the privilege of knowing the great woman.
Ivy Marin would never live up to the standards and generosity of Mrs. Erickson.
Even today, students of architecture still visited to sketch the exterior details Julia Morgan had incorporated into her design. All the old house needed was a thoughtful owner.
Not Ivy Marin. He pulled to a stop sign and waved at local teenagers who were carrying their surfboards across the street. As he waited, he tried to remember where he’d seen Ivy before. She was certainly attractive, although she downplayed her attributes. Maybe she reminded him of someone. Perhaps from his past. Sooner or later, he would remember. He seldom forgot a face.
After the teens passed by, he rolled the SUV forward. If he had the money, he’d buy Las Brisas. Summer Beach was a unique location that had been unspoiled by the growth of Los Angles to the north, where on the west side, charming bungalows on small lots had given way to monstrous McMansions that towered above their neighbors.
Bennett was convinced that Las Brisas should have another life, perhaps as a community center that all residents could enjoy. As he drove, he thought about that. It might still happen. Ivy Marin was in arrears on her tax bill—a dire situation. All the town needed to do was wait for a foreclosure sale and make a bid for the property.
He passed Rosa’s fish taco stand, which looked busy today, and parked his SUV alongside the town’s flower stand, Blossoms. The owner, Imani, had been an attorney who now made a good living with a far simpler life.
“Hey, Mr. Mayor,” a woman in a tie-dyed T-shirt and a wide-brimmed straw hat over sisterlocks sang out.
“Hi, Imani. Could you wrap up your special bouquet of white roses and lilies?”
She looked at him with compassion. “For a special lady?”
Bennett drank in the sweet floral aromas, which reminded him of Jackie. “My wife. Today’s our anniversary.”
“Has it been a year again already?” Imani plucked the flowers, added one delicate pink rose in the center, and tied the bouquet with a length of pink ribbon. “Here, she’ll love these.”
“Always her favorites.” As Bennett paid her, he asked, “Your son decided on a college yet?”
Imani’s face lit with pride. “He had his choice, but he chose UCSD. And he has a full ride.”
“Hard to pass up a university with an ocean view over ones with snow drifts in the midwest. Think we’ll be calling him doctor someday?” He knew Imani must be pleased that her son was staying close and going to the university in San Diego.
“I’ll let him decide where his passion takes him.” She laughed. “Look at me. Three years of law school loans and now I run a flower stand. Although that career allowed me to do this now, so I can’t bash it too much.”
With an armful of flowers, Bennett made his way through the marina to his boat and boarded. Since he’d spent so much time with Ivy, he didn’t have much time left before the sun set, which was the precise time he liked to scatter flowers on the water.
For at sunset, he’d made a vow to the woman he’d loved since college, and every year after that they’d toasted to their future on the boat exactly when the sun touched the horizon.
He smiled as he thought of Jaclyn, his Jackie. Just then, his phone rang, interrupting his bittersweet memories. Though he still thought of her often, this was a sacred time. Registering the name on the screen, Ivy Marin, he sent the call directly to voice mail. He’d soon be out of reach of phone service anyway. He turned off his phone.
When the sun kissed the horizon, he cut the engine. The world around him was quiet except for the waves gently lapping against the hull.
“Hey Jackie,” he whispered into the breeze. “Didn’t think I’d forget, did you?”
With each flower that he tossed onto the inky blue water, he thought about a cherished memory. Their wedding night, their honeymoon in Baja California, their walks on the beach. How she’d loved to sail, to feel the wind in
