Summer Beach, стр. 23
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
At his words, Ivy felt her world crumble. Unless she could generate income from the property, she would surely lose it. She lowered her eyes and blinked, trying to clear the hot tears of anger and frustration that threatened to spill from her eyes.
A second blow inside of five minutes was almost too much to handle. Her world seemed to flash before her, and her knees wobbled. She’d have to return to Boston and live out her years alone in the professor’s extra bedroom.
Or she could stay and fight.
She pressed her hands on the counter. “I’ve heard zoning laws can be changed. How can I do that?”
“There’s a process for that, Mrs. Marin. You can file a request.”
Tracy interjected. “Her name is Bay,” she said, consulting the form Ivy had filled out. “You’re thinking of Jeremy Marin, the former owner.”
“He was my husband.” A chill snaked through Ivy. How had this man known who she was?
“Oh.” Tracy backed out of the office as if Ivy were contagious.
“Mr. Boz, I’m nothing like my husband was,” Ivy said, her voice rising. “I only want to rent out rooms. I need to run it as an inn. If I can’t, I’ll surely lose the property.”
“Wasn’t it listed for sale?”
“It was, but that didn’t work out—” Ivy stopped at the sight of Bennett. Tracy trailed behind him.
Bennett approached her. “I understand there’s a problem here?”
“What are you doing here?” Ivy asked, her pulse ratcheting up another notch. Of all the people to show up at City Hall. Had he been waiting to trap her here? Anger burned her cheeks.
Boz turned to him. “No problem. I was explaining to Mrs. Marin—”
“Bay. I’m Ms. Bay now, if you don’t mind.” She’d had enough of her husband. She tamped down a twinge of guilt, though she couldn’t deny the facts about Jeremy that were coming out.
Boz cleared his throat and continued. “As I was saying, Mayor Dylan, I told Ms. Bay—”
Turning on Bennett, Ivy spat out, “Mayor? Why didn’t you tell me you were the mayor?”
“I didn’t think it was relevant,” Bennett said. “Now, as Boz said, you’re welcome to file a zoning change.” He took the official form from Boz and handed it to her.
“You bet I will.” Ivy snatched the paper from his hand. “This inn is going forward.” Mayor Dylan? And as far as she was concerned, Bennett was just another man keeping secrets from her. Just as he had before.
“If you run an illegal inn, you’ll be fined,” Boz said. “The city can also shut down the operation.”
Livid, Ivy clutched the counter. That was the third knife in her gut today. She slammed the pen down on the counter.
“This is your doing, isn’t it, Bennett?” Without waiting for a reply, Ivy charged from the office. She had to get out of there before she broke down.
As Ivy rushed through the lobby, Nan touched her shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t help but overhear. I know you’re crushed.”
Nan’s kind face and the greenery around them blurred before her. “It was my last hope,” Ivy said, choking back a sob. She wasn’t the type of woman to cry in public, but the last year had proven so difficult. At random times, she’d found herself tearing up over apples in the produce department, or blinking back tears on the T, surrounded by stony-faced subway riders. And now that her suspicions of Jeremy were proving well-founded after all, it was almost more than she could take. And then there was Bennett.
Nan put an arm around her. “Come to our shop for tea. My husband is there during the day, and I’m there from five to seven every evening.”
Nodding, Ivy thanked her and stumbled outside into the bright, unrelenting sunshine. What on earth was she going to do now?
Chapter 9
IVY SAT IN her parents’ Jeep outside the house, watching Shelly digging in the yard with her earphones in, swaying to some music only she could hear. How was she going to break the bad news about the zoning to her sister, who’d bought into the whole idea of moving here and working with her in this venture?
With the windows down, the ocean breeze was cool on her hot face. Ivy was limp from stress and the surge of adrenaline that had coursed through her at City Hall. She heard Shelly singing; her sister looked so happy. Shelly had a whole new purpose outside of Ezzra of the double Z. And Ivy had this house to salvage from the mess her husband had left behind.
She chewed her lip. She had to figure out a way to save what they had.
A thought suddenly occurred to her. Her daughter Misty had once said something about rentals. She fished her phone from her purse and pressed the screen for her number.
“Hey Mom, what’s up?”
Ivy was pleased that Misty had answered the phone. Both of her children preferred texting, but since Jeremy’s death, Misty often picked up when she called now. “Hi Misty. How’s the rehearsal for the new show?”
“Great. You sound funny. Kind of stopped up. Are you okay?”
“Okay enough. Probably allergens in the air.” Ivy wasn’t used to confiding her troubles in her children. She had always been the one to provide emotional support in the family. “Remember when you were telling me about some website that hooks up people to stay with other people?”
Misty erupted with an awkward giggle. “Mom, I told you not to use the term hook up anymore. It doesn’t mean what it used to.”
“What does it mean again?”
“You know when two people don’t really want to date, but they’re into each other. They want to be intimate, but not—”
“Oops, I remember.” Was she that out of touch? Ivy asked, “What was that website?”
“I hope you mean the one for home stays and vacation rentals—not the other one. Hang on. There, I just texted it to you. Mom, I’m being called onstage. Gotta run, loves you, babe.”
“I loves