Poppy watched the exchange with round eyes.
“This was only a draft.” Tears sprang to Shelly’s eyes. “I wasn’t going to release it until later.” She moaned through her misery. “I-I must have hit the wrong button out of habit. Or maybe it was the wine I had…”
“That’s an amateur mistake,” Ivy shot back.
“I know, I know,” Shelly wailed. “I feel terrible. But I didn’t profit off of it.”
“Actually, you probably did,” Poppy said, leaning toward the screen. “Look how many times it’s been shared. Since you have ads on the page, your commission payout will skyrocket.”
“I’ll donate it to charity,” Shelly said, pressing her hands together. “An art school or something. Please, Ivy, believe me. This was a stupid mistake. Look, it’s not even finished or edited. Would I publish something like that?”
Ivy paced the length of the room, trying to harness her fury. In her heart, she knew that Shelly spoke the truth. But that didn’t ease her anguish over the argument she’d just had with Bennett, nor would it change what he thought of them. She hated that he thought Shelly would deceive her own family, or that she was out to profit however she could. And she wished she could take back what she’d said about Mitch.
“We’re in damage control mode,” Poppy said, spreading her hands in appeal. “I studied this in my communications class at USC. We have to get ahead of the media and put out a press release.”
“I have no idea how to do that,” Ivy said through gritted teeth.
“Lucky for you, I do,” Poppy said, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “First, Shelly—take down that post and put up a video. I can film you on my phone in two minutes. I’ll write a quick script.”
“What shall I say?” Shelly said.
“Exactly what you just did. I think I’ve got most of it. And we’ll have a press briefing in the ballroom. We can do it on Skype. All you can speak to is the discovery. The rest of the questions should be directed toward the…”
“FBI’s Art Crime Team,” Ivy said.
“Good,” Poppy said. “Then, you’re finished.”
Shelly peered at what Poppy was writing. “That’s it?”
“For now,” Poppy said. “And we’ll be sure to put a link to Summer Beach’s new Seabreeze Inn. Which will have a link to iBnB, since you’re not officially an inn. I got this.”
Ivy whirled around. “Poppy! We will not!”
“Relax, Aunt Ivy,” Poppy said calmly. “That’s standard press release protocol. You’d planned on doing that anyway. Capture the traffic, at least. Build your mailing list. Art lovers are bound to see it.”
“But what will Bennett think?”
“After what he accused me of, who cares?” Shelly stubbornly crossed her arms.
But I care, Ivy wanted to shout. Her heart was pounding with anguish.
In a conciliatory tone, Poppy added, “You need to rent those rooms and generate an income, right? Maybe this isn’t how you’d planned to do it, but don’t pass up an opportunity. That’s what being an entrepreneur is about.”
“And that’s what we are,” Shelly added, hope edging into her voice again. “We have to do that. And Poppy knows how to manage this.”
“By the time you two return from Boston, this problem will be under control,” Poppy promised, her eyes gleaming at the challenge.
“Do what you have to,” Ivy said to Poppy. “But the damage is done,” she muttered. Still, they had a point. She wished she could afford to ignore her dwindling bank account, but she couldn’t.
And it wouldn’t make any difference to Bennett anyway. Not that it mattered anymore, now that he’d shown his true colors again. That relationship would never be.
She turned back to Poppy. “Let’s get to work.”
Chapter 28
WAITING BY THE baggage carousel at Logan International Airport, Ivy adjusted the scarf and chunky necklace she’d added to her jeans and T-shirt outfit. Shelly had run into a friend and stopped to chat, leaving her alone.
For the past few days, Ivy and Shelly had worked with Poppy to manage the flurry of attention they’d received after Shelly’s accidental blog post. Poppy had handled the entire situation like a pro, and Ivy was pleased to have her on their team.
As Ivy watched the carousel for their baggage, she wondered if Misty would meet them here. Ivy had called and left her a message, but she had no idea if Misty had received it. They might be hailing a cab or taking the T—the subway—back to her dark little room at the professor’s house, which would seem even smaller now.
That wasn’t the worst of it, though. Before they left, Ivy had called Bennett to tell him what had happened, but he’d declined her call and sent her straight to voicemail. Exactly what Jeremy used to do. She’d cut off the call without leaving a message. His loss, she told herself, but she still ached over it.
Folding her arms, she watched the assortment of bags ride by on the conveyor belt. Her thoughts reeled back to Bennett and that summer of long ago. When she’d finally seen him on the beach again, he’d waved and walked over to her. They talked about college; he was going to the University of San Diego, where she’d also been accepted. Ivy was sure he was going to ask her out, when another girl in a bikini came racing toward him, waving with glee.
“Bennett!”
When he saw the girl, the look on his face was one of unmistakable joy. The girl threw herself into his arms, and he swung her around, laughing. Her blond hair fanned around her bare shoulders, and she began chattering on about a party she was giving and how Bennett had to promise he’d be there with her.
“Of course, I will,” he said.
Neither of them looked at Ivy or even thought to invite her.
She was so embarrassed. He already has a girlfriend.
Ivy wished she could dissolve into the infinitesimal grains of
