Ivy climbed the steps to the Summer Beach City Hall and Civic Center, which was a small building on a hill overlooking the sea. Mounds of blazing pink bougainvillea and other flowering desert-scape plants surrounded the mid-century modern structure.
Inside, sunshine spilled through clerestory windows in the high-ceilinged room. Mature, fiddle-leaf fig trees stretched broad leaves toward the light, and glossy-leafed philodendron thrived beneath their shady canopy. Ivy scanned the entry area.
A voice rang out from the reception desk, where a vase of garden-cut roses filled the air with their soothing aroma. “Good morning, it’s a glorious day in Summer Beach. May I help you, hon?”
Ivy turned toward the kind voice, which belonged to a sweet-looking woman with a halo of red curls who looked to be in her fifties.
“I need to get a new business license.”
“Opening a new business here, are you? Wouldn’t be the old ice cream shop next to Mitch’s Java Beach, would it?” She chuckled. “I’m Nan. Welcome to Summer Beach. I’ve heard about you.”
“Not the ice cream shop. The Seabreeze Inn.”
When the women looked nonplussed, Ivy said, “The old Erickson home. I’m the new owner,” she added quickly. She was learning to distance herself from her unpopular husband in Summer Beach.
“Ah, yes. We’ve all been watching that mighty closely.” A shadow crossed her face. “The city spent a lot of our taxpayer’s money defending Las Brisas. You’re not tearing it down, are you?”
“Not at all. I think it’s a beautiful old home, and I want others to experience it, too.”
“Good. That Jeremy Marin was a devil, I tell you. What nerve, coming in here with his fancy LA girlfriend and thinking he could do whatever he wanted in Summer Beach.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how you came by the old place, but I’m happy you did. You look like a nice sort. Awfully pleased to meet you.” Nan whipped out her hand and gave Ivy a hearty handshake. “What’s your name, hon?”
“Ivy, uh, Bay,” she said, giving her maiden name. Numbly, Ivy shook Nan’s hand. Girlfriend? She felt like she’d just been slammed with a bucket of ice cubes.
“Ivy Bay, what a sweet name. Any relation to Carlotta and Sterling Bay?”
“My parents,” Ivy managed to say, despite the crushing heartache that was making it hard to breathe. “They had a lot of fun naming me and my brothers and sisters.” She wasn’t surprised; her parents were quite social and well known in San Diego County.
“Glad to have you in Summer Beach.” Nan pointed toward an open door. “Business permits right over there,” Nan chirped, clearly oblivious to Ivy’s distress. “Hope to see you around town. My husband and I own Antique Times on Main Street if there’s anything you need or want to sell.”
“I may, thanks.” Ivy stumbled toward a water fountain to compose herself. LA girlfriend? This was all so out of character for Jeremy. Or was it? She ran his business trips through her mind, trying to recall any details she should have noticed. He’d been so upbeat about those trips, but so tired when he returned. He always said they were exhausting. Another thought struck her. Did Bennett know about this?
A young woman with a toddler waited for her to finish at the water fountain. Ivy tried to pull herself together. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t suspected something, but to be faced with Jeremy’s betrayal was shattering. Yet, nothing in the past would change her situation now. She drank from the stream of cold water to calm her feverish thoughts.
She still had a job to do here.
Once she had composed herself, she marched through the doorway that Nan had directed her toward and stepped to the counter, summoning her strength. “Hi, I’m new here, and I’d like a business license for a new business I’m opening.”
“Welcome to Summer Beach,” the young woman said with a smile. “I’m Tracy. Here’s a form to fill out. What kind of business are you opening?”
“An inn.”
“We sure need more of those. Here’s a pen, too.” Tracy handed her a yellow and orange pen with the Summer Beach logo emblazoned on it in blue script.
Ivy wondered if everyone was this friendly in Summer Beach. She’d been used to the impersonal, bureaucratic nature of Boston city government. Much as she loved Boston and all of the city’s museums and universities and restaurants, that was simply the big city way.
Ivy filled out the form and slid it back.
“Okay, I’ll check that for you.” Tracy typed in the address on her computer. Frowning, she said, “One moment, I’ll be right back. You can keep the pen. Won’t you have a seat?” She pushed away from the counter and disappeared into an adjoining office.
Ivy eased onto a bright orange, modern-looking chair. To keep her mind off Jeremy, she pulled out her notepad and added a few household items to her shopping list. Staying organized and focusing on details helped calm her mind.
Holding her sunny new pen poised in mid-air, Ivy paused, suddenly aware.
Or, had she used that method as a crutch to ignore the truth about her marriage she couldn’t face?
She closed her eyes in thought, trying to maintain her equilibrium. Just when she thought she was getting used to functioning without her husband, now she had to process this disturbing news. She wanted to run screaming from the building, but she had to take care of business first.
Breathe. Just breathe.
A few minutes later, Tracy returned with a youngish-looking man with a thick head of silver hair.
He stuck out his hand. “Jim Boz, head of Planning and Zoning. Tracy tells me you want to run an inn at the Erickson house.”
Ivy stood up. “That’s right. A bed and breakfast.” She recalled Nan’s comment. “I understand there’s a real need here for that.”
“True, but your house is zoned for residential use.”
“Can
