Ivy sat down and gazed at the piece with her artist’s eye, appreciating the color, design, and creativity that had gone into it. Being in the presence of such craftsmanship was a joy. Not many people understood how such artistry stirred her. She touched it with reverence.
Finally, Ivy leaned back in her chair and blew out a breath. As much as she would love to keep this beauty, she had to do the right thing. She found Ari’s email address at the FBI, tapped a quick note, attached photos, and sent it.
That’s it. She scrubbed her hands over her face. A possible fortune sat before her on the kitchen table, yet she worried about the electricity bill. And they had to have sufficient reservations to make the planned holiday events worthwhile.
Ivy glanced at the clock. Bennett must be running late. He usually ran on the beach, showered, then stopped by for breakfast. She peered outside to see if she could get a glimpse of him.
Ivy was surprised to see him getting into his SUV. He hadn’t even come inside for breakfast. Since summer, they’d seen each other every morning for breakfast, and she looked forward to it. She stood by the window, her fingers pressed against the cool pane, though he didn’t even cast a look in her direction.
Then she remembered that she was mad at him for interfering in her business. With a huff, she slid her phone into her jeans pocket and pulled her sweater around her cotton turtleneck.
She had too much work to do to worry about Bennett Dylan.
After putting the gleaming, gemstone-encrusted egg into the pantry for temporary safekeeping, Ivy made her way into the dining room. She stopped to greet Imani and Jamir, who were the only guests there.
“What a lovely fire we have this morning,” Imani said. “That scent always reminds me of Christmas.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Ivy said. Having a fire in the fireplace did make it feel cozy and welcoming. She moved the pine branches from the mantle to a sideboard—just in case.
As they were chatting, Nick sauntered in. He wore a T-shirt and hoodie with jeans and sandals, which seemed to be his standard uniform for the day.
“Good morning, Nick,” Ivy said.
“Thank you for including me in the tree-trimming party last night,” Nick said with a little nod as he greeted each one of them. White wisps of hair escaped his darker ponytail, and he tucked the strands behind his ear. “The event meant a lot to me. You have a large, impressive family, Ms. Bay.”
“Ivy, please. And yes, I am indeed blessed.”
“Would you like to join me for breakfast?” Nick pulled out a chair for her at the nearest table and gestured to it. “Please, have a seat. What would you like?”
Ivy laughed. “I’m usually the one serving others.” She had a lot of work to do today, but she could spend a few minutes with him. That was part of the job, and she enjoyed it.
“I insist,” he said.
“Those cranberry muffins are yummy. I’ll have one, and I’ll bring a pot of coffee.”
Nick returned with a plate full of muffins, blueberry and strawberry yogurt, a double heaping of granola, and a large orange juice. For Nick’s size, he seemed to eat a lot, and then the thought crossed her mind that maybe he didn’t have money for food.
It had been almost a week since Nick arrived, and he still hadn’t rendered any form of payment for his room. She hated to admit that Bennett might have been right about him.
They spoke a little, and after Imani and Jamir left, Ivy picked at her muffin. “Nick, I want you to know how much we enjoy having you here, and I’m glad that you chose the Seabreeze Inn.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I heard that you attended Mitch’s Thanksgiving dinner.”
Nick smiled pleasantly. “I believe I mentioned that.”
Ivy felt flustered. She’d never had a deadbeat guest at the inn. Yet, with Nick’s refined manners, he didn’t fit the mold—not that she knew, of course. She had to address this situation.
“I was wondering if you’re able to make payment arrangements for the room yet?”
“I’m working on it,” Nick replied pleasantly. He picked up the coffee carafe and poured more coffee in her mug. “More cream?”
“Yes, please.” Maybe she should tell him to leave now, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that if he were really in need. After all, it was Christmas. If he didn’t have any family and ended up on the street, she’d never forgive herself. It wasn’t as if the inn was full, and what was one more person over the holidays?
“I want you to know that you’re welcome here,” she began. “If you’re having any financial difficulties, we can make arrangements.”
“That’s very nice of you to do that for guests.”
“Well, it’s Christmas, isn’t it?”
He glanced around the dining room. A hand-painted St. Nicolas and trimmings from the pine tree graced the mantle above the fireplace. “Sure looks like it.”
“We’ve only been in business for a few months. Shelly and I didn’t expect it to be this slow during the holidays. We have plenty of work around here, and we can always use an extra hand.”
“I will be happy to help you with anything you like.”
This conversation wasn’t going as Ivy had hoped, but at least she knew where they stood. She laid her palms on the table, relieved at his agreement. “I appreciate that. Well, I suppose that’s settled. What are your talents, Nick? You could help Poppy with ads or Shelly with gardening. I have some decorating to do.”
“I always had a keen interest in science.”
“Science…that would be Shelly’s department.” Her sister was going to kill her for this, but she could use the help. “She has some tree trimming and planting that she’s planning.”
“Is that trimming with decorations?”
“Maybe that, too, but I meant trimming as in pruning branches. The entire grounds and trees were a dreadful mess when we moved it.” Ivy didn’t mention that her husband had let the yard and gardens go while he had it. “Shelly’s a horticulturist, which she calls a blend of science and art.”
“This is a unique opportunity, indeed,” Nick said, steepling his hands.
As he did, Ivy noticed how smooth his hands were. His fingers were long and tapered—probably more suited to playing piano than sawing limbs and digging holes for trees. She’d be surprised if Nick had ever held a shovel. He was a different sort; he was well-spoken and calm, and this soothed Ivy, too.
Shelly had gone out on errands, so Ivy would tell her sister about her new helper when she returned. Ivy rose from the table. “I’ll let Shelly know, and I’m sure she’ll reach out to get started.”
“One more thing, please,” Nick said, rising as she did.
“Yes?”
“What I’ve heard about the history of this house is fascinating. You mentioned Amelia and Gustav Erickson. Do you have any photographs or written history about them or the house?”
Ivy had grown accustomed to people hearing about the house because of news reports on the discovery of the paintings and crown jewels.
“We have an old photo album in the front parlor, and there’s a book from the Summer Beach Historical Society. I’ll leave them on the table in the parlor for you to look at.”