“No one can ever replace him in your heart,” Bennett said gently. “And now, your mother is free to make choices for her happiness, even if those decisions don’t include me. She’s still a young woman.”
Sunny expressed a puff of air. “Right. She’s forty-five.”
“If life were a football game, that’s only half-time, kid. Your grandparents are taking off to sail around the world.”
“I know. It’s unbelievable. Though my friends think that’s kind of cool.” Sunny heaved a great sigh. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure, but I hope we’ll come back to this conversation. I truly care for your mother, Sunny.” Bennett turned toward the rear door. “I’m going to turn in early, so why don’t you go back and give your mother a hand?”
“Oh, stop it.” Sunny grabbed his sleeve. “If I go out there alone, I’ll get blamed for driving you away. Even if she did tell you to go to your room.”
“I haven’t heard that one in a long time,” Bennett said, chuckling.
“This doesn’t mean I’m giving you a pass.” Sunny shook her finger at him. “You be careful around my mom.”
“I will. Scout’s honor.”
Sunny frowned. “I have no idea what that means, but let’s go.”
When Bennett and Sunny returned to the ballroom, everyone was in high spirits. Shelly had put on Christmas music, Sterling had arrived and was helping his wife arrange another tabletop village, and Nick was unwrapping items. Gilda had come downstairs with her Chihuahua, and Pixie was zipping around sniffing the tree and crates.
Imani bustled through the front door, followed by her son Jamir, who was studying pre-med at the university. In her arms, Imani carried a bouquet of flowers and greenery.
“Wow, look at all this,” Imani exclaimed. “I brought holly with red berries, bay laurel, and seeded eucalyptus, along with roses, crimson lilies, ranunculus, and dahlias. I love all these red hues. Thought they’d give the foyer a festive look.”
“Why, these are lovely,” Ivy said. “And smell delicious. Shelly, could you—”
“On it,” Shelly said. “I know just the vase for those.” She hurried toward the butler’s pantry.
“Would you like to join us?” Bennett asked.
Ivy glanced over her shoulder, allowing him the faintest of smiles. One corner of her mouth twitched, and she turned back to Imani and Jamir.
That was a start, Bennett thought. But he had a long way to go to claw back into her heart. Maybe he had been too heavy-handed in his treatment of Nick.
While Ivy chatted with Imani, Bennett busied himself by bringing in more crates from the storeroom. As he did, he made mental notes of anything that Ivy might need. He’d call a buddy who supplied firewood and have some delivered. One crate held numerous candlestick holders. He could stop by Nailed It or Antique Times to get candles.
Another crate had a variety of what his sister called knick-knacks. Bennett swallowed his pride and helped Nick unwrap pieces—and he took care not to quiz the young man.
Nick gazed around the room. “Seeing everyone helping each other is inspiring. I appreciate being part of this.”
Bennett bit his lip. “That’s what Summer Beach is all about. Neighbors helping neighbors.”
“That’s what I’ve heard.” Nick unwrapped a glittery oval piece, its red enamel shimmering under the lights of the chandelier. “What a beauty this is. Think this would look good on top of that bookshelf?”
“Sure,” Bennett replied. Maybe the guy was okay after all, but he was still going to keep his eye on him. “I’ll bring in more crates and boxes. There’s still a lot out there.”
Nick stared at the sparkly knick-knack, admiring it. “This beauty needs a place of honor.” He placed it on top of a bookshelf where a chandelier shone on it, bringing it to life. “Need a hand with those crates?”
Bennett saw Ivy watching him from across the room. “I’d like that,” he said, gesturing for Nick to follow him. He’d do whatever he had to do to get back in Ivy’s good graces.
Chapter 8
“Can you stay until Christmas?” Ivy asked, as soon as she’d greeted Poppy. Their niece, who’d gone to the University of Southern California, had been handling a marketing job for an animal rescue organization in Los Angeles. She’d also been working on campaigns for her cousin Elena, and Elena’s friend, Fianna, a fashion designer.
“I’m yours through the holidays until January.” Poppy peeled off her ivory knit cap, triggering enough static electricity to make her silky blond hair fly up. She laughed and brushed it down. “I disseminated press releases and set up the holiday rescue advertising campaigns. I can monitor everything online from here.”
“I thought I heard you arrive,” Shelly said, racing down the stairs. “You look fabulous.” She enveloped her niece in a big hug and twirled her around.
“Courtesy of my fashion client.” Poppy wore a nubby, ivory Irish sweater that she’d paired with cream-colored denim jeans. “Fianna is from Ireland, and she imports these fabulous sweaters.”
“Having you here will be like summer again,” Ivy said.
“Yes, and Thanksgiving was amazing, too. But I couldn’t miss our first Christmas at the inn,” Poppy said. “I’m looking forward to relaxing and doing yoga in the mornings.”
Ivy turned to Shelly. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”
“Not exactly,” Shelly said. Sheepishly, she turned to Poppy. “Actually, we have a new campaign we need you to work on.”
“Well, so much for catching up on my favorite authors’ new books.” Poppy laughed and parked her suitcase by the front door. “What do you need?”
“Come on back to the library,” Ivy said.
“How about a Sea Breeze?” Shelly asked. “My new holiday edition has a splash of pomegranate juice. Virgin or fully loaded?”
“It was a long drive from L.A.,” Poppy said. “But it sounds like we’re working, so I’ll save the lightly loaded version until later.”
“You got it. One virgin juice cocktail coming up.” Shelly hurried to the kitchen.
As they made their way to the library, Ivy told Poppy about their idea to attract holiday business.
Poppy tucked her hair behind her ear. “So, you want to appeal to people who have nowhere else to go for the holidays?”
“Exactly,” Ivy said. “We want to start a new tradition for people so they won’t have to be alone.”
“Okay, so we can target singles. Do you have a preference for women or men or people of a certain age?”
“I don’t think it matters—unless they’re sharing a room.”
“We can target those by gender.” Poppy nodded. “I’ll create ads by demographic group, and it would help if Shelly could write some blog posts or create a video.”
“She’s working on some, so let’s ask her.”
Poppy smiled. “I think this is a great idea.”
Ivy turned on the computer, and she and Poppy began sharing ideas about ad text and target geographic areas. By the time Shelly returned, they had already created the first ad.