“That’s a great hack.” Poppy nodded enthusiastically. “My brothers and his friends are coming later this afternoon, too. They can help you with the larger pieces downstairs.”
Ivy and Shelly spent the rest of the day arranging furniture in each one of the guest bedrooms, as well as the downstairs. One room was furnished with curvy Art Nouveau furnishings, while another one was done in wicker and rattan. In other areas, they mixed up styles for an eclectic look.
Later they would have to give each piece of furniture a good cleaning and send out the fabric covered chairs to be reupholstered.
As they organized and reorganized the rooms, Ivy thought about the paintings she had in storage in Boston that she could use. More than anything, she yearned to work on new pieces inspired by scenes in Summer Beach to add to the mix. Then, once she received the money from the sale of the chandelier from Nan and Arthur, she would order a casual dining room table and consign the ornate dining room table on the lower level to them as well.
In just a few hours, Poppy had photographed every guestroom and uploaded images to the iBnB site. Then she sent photos and details to bloggers she knew in LA, and turned on the iBnB rentals.
“Now I’ll create some keywords for your website,” Poppy said, who’d set up at a small table in the library. “And I’ll search and see what results appear in top searches for Summer Beach.” As Poppy watched her screen, a look of confusion washed over her. “Ivy, there’s something you need to see here.”
Poppy turned the screen around. “This can’t be right. It mentions your name.”
The headline read, Stolen Art Treasures Discovered in Summer Beach Mansion.
Ivy and Shelly sat next to her. “Actually, it is,” said Ivy. They told Poppy the entire story.
“That blows my mind,” Poppy said. “I can’t believe you kept it a secret these last few days. How exciting is this!”
Ivy glanced at the article again. “This explains why my phone is ringing and my texts are blowing up.”
“And my email,” Shelly said.
Ivy pressed her lips together with chagrin. “How did they get my number?”
“The internet knows everything,” Poppy said. “There are other apps you can use for family and friends until this dies down.”
Ivy handed her phone to her. “Do your magic, please. At least we’re getting out of here for a few days.” When she’d told Misty that Shelly was coming, too, she’d sounded so happy. When Ivy’s daughters were growing up, they had always wanted to emulate their aunt Shelly.
At that, the doorbell chimed, which surprised them all. It seemed to have a laissez-faire attitude toward working. Ivy raced to the door.
“Hey,” Bennett said, touching her hand. “Can I talk to you?” He peered inside and waved. “Alone.”
As soon as she stepped outside, a young man at the curb wielding a camera called out to her. “Are you Ivy Bay Marin?”
She sighed and waved Bennett inside. “In the library.” Ivy went inside, and Bennett followed her. “Wonder how long they’ll keep that up since the paintings are gone?”
“No idea.”
“What’s up?” she asked, closing the library door.
“I’ve come across some disturbing information that I thought you should know about,” Bennett said, rocking uncomfortably on his feet. “Looks like Shelly contacted the media about the paintings. That’s why they’re here.”
Ivy’s mouth dropped open. The nerve of him. “My sister would never do anything like that. Why would you even accuse her? If anyone, I would suspect Mitch. He’s the one with a criminal past.”
Looking hurt, Bennett put his hands on his hips. “This is exactly what I was afraid of if that got out.”
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” she shot back, raising her voice. She turned her back, pacing the length of the library.
“People deserve a second chance, Ivy,” he said evenly.
“I’m not saying they don’t.” She whirled around, fuming. How dare he insinuate her sister? “But why you would suspect Shelly over Mitch?”
“If you don’t believe me, look at your sister’s blog.”
He had to be mistaken. “Why would she post such a story?”
“I don’t know. Ask her how much she’s been paid from the tabloids that ran with it. The copy is almost verbatim.”
“Maybe the site was hacked,” Ivy said, raising her voice. “I’m telling you, Shelly wouldn’t do that, and I don’t appreciate your insinuations.”
Just then, Poppy and Shelly opened the library door and came inside. “What’s going on in here?” Shelly asked. “I heard my name. Why all the yelling?”
Ivy crossed her arms. “It seems our mayor is poking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Bennett threw up his hands. “I have better places to be.” With that, he stalked toward the door. Pausing, he said, “After dealing with your husband, I had hoped you were different. Shame on me.”
The door slammed with a finality that shattered Ivy’s hope for even a first date with him.
Incensed, Ivy swung around to her sister. “You won’t believe the accusations he just made against you,” she sputtered.
“What?” Shelly cried.
Ivy was so angry she could hardly speak. “He says that you alerted the media through a blog post, and accuses you of taking money from tabloids.”
“I swear I did nothing of the sort,” Shelly said. But as soon as she spoke, her eyes bulged in horror. “Oh no!” she cried, clamping a hand over her mouth. Spinning around, she pounded across the wooden floor to Poppy’s laptop.
“What have you done?” Ivy charged after her in disbelief, while Poppy raced to keep up.
Furiously tapping on the keyboard, Shelly pulled up her blog on the screen. “No, no, no! How did this happen?” She sank onto a chair and covered her face. “Oh, Ivy. I’m so sorry, this really is all my fault.”
Over Poppy’s shoulder, Ivy read the blog post on the screen. Stolen Masterpieces Uncovered in Summer Beach. Blood rose in her cheeks, and her chest tightened with the agony of betrayal.
“How could you?” Ivy cried
