Summer Beach

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Just in case I don’t make it to 70…Was her mother ill? Carlotta wouldn’t say, so Ivy had booked tickets immediately.
Ten seconds. The flight attendant unlatched the door, preparing to close it.
Ivy grinned as Shelly’s long legs carried her closer. Her sister exuded a bohemian New York vibe and kept her figure yoga-sleek, which meant she would fit right in with the summer crowd. What a party that will be, Ivy thought.
Maybe Shelly could help her find a party outfit at one of the ritzy boutiques in La Jolla or Del Mar, sun-drenched villages that hugged the coastline of North San Diego County.
Eight years younger and still single, Shelly was always on trend or creating the next one. Most of her friends were young hipsters, and although Shelly had a degree in horticulture, in New York she worked in a florist shop creating exotic arrangements for extravagant weddings, bar mitzvahs, charity balls, and Christmas parties. She also wrote a blog and filmed a vlog—a video blog—that together had garnered thousands of fans. What had started as a blog for gardening and floral arrangements had morphed into an emerging lifestyle brand.
Ivy’s phoned buzzed with a text from her real estate agent confirming their meeting today. The sun’s out—see you soon in Summer Beach.
She blew wisps of hair from her face in exasperation. What’s taking him so long to sell a beach house? Her real estate agent in Boston had two cash offers on her Back Bay brownstone condominium the same day it was listed. The probate attorney in Boston had referred Claire Sidwell, saying she was one of the best real estate agents in the area.
Just sell it, Ivy had texted her. She didn’t want to hear the details. Claire had obliged, until a couple of months later when she’d retired due to health problems and turned her real estate office over to Bennett Dylan.
Of all people.
Ivy knew she should have changed real estate agents right then, but at the time, she could hardly bring herself to get out of bed, let alone interview real estate agents thousands of miles away.
On our way, she texted back to him. Meet you there.
The summer before Ivy had left southern California for college, she’d had a huge crush on Bennett. They hadn’t attended the same school, but she’d seen him on the beach with friends. He wouldn’t know her by her married name, but still, she wasn’t pleased about having him represent Jeremy’s—no, her—house.
And now, thanks to her social media-happy siblings and their children, she could no longer hide on the east coast. The ever-connected Bennett had heard about the pending party and called to set up an appointment. Since you’re going to be in town anyway…
There was no way out. Ivy pursed her lips, determined to take care of business. She had to face the situation that she’d tried to ignore for months.
Breathless, Shelly arrived by her side and hugged her.
“Must you always make me late?” Ivy asked, perturbed.
“I’m right on time. The plane is still here,” Shelly said, laughing.
The flight attendant was sweeping the door closed behind their heels and executing the most spectacular eye roll Ivy had ever seen.
“I knew I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight. What was so urgent that you had to get?”
“Some cosmetics. I left most of my stuff in the city at Ezzra’s apartment. And this.” She patted the pink bag, which emitted sweet, calorie-laden aromas. “Break-up goodies. Once we’re airborne.”
Last week, Shelly had taken the train to Boston. She’d broken up with her on-again, off-again boyfriend—Ezzra, a hipster podcaster with a double Z name—and needed to talk.
The flight attendant herded them into the boarding bridge tunnel. “Ladies, your flight is ready to leave now.”
“See? Perfect timing.” Shelly rushed in. “And I got us upgraded to first class.”
“Great. First class into the abyss.” Ivy followed her onto the plane, shaking her head, but grateful that Shelly had made it—and for the extra comfort and legroom on the flight. Her sister had the kind of personality that people gravitated toward. When you were in her sphere, the world bloomed in vivid Technicolor, which was just what she needed right now.
As Ivy trailed Shelly to the last row of the first-class section, she smiled as heads turned toward her younger sister. Ivy had once been considered attractive, too. Not glossy magazine-cover gorgeous, but certainly pleasant enough.
“May we have champagne?” Shelly asked before she slid into her seat.
“Once we’re airborne,” a new flight attendant answered. Another one rushed to close the aircraft’s fuselage door.
“And we’re off,” Shelly said, her glossy lips twisting into a cute grin. “Let’s get this beach party started.”
Ivy stowed her carry-on bag and sank into her seat, thinking about their parents. She couldn’t wait to see them again, and she regretted having stayed away for so long. Between her husband and her daughters, life had been so full and busy.
Occasionally her parents had passed through Boston on their travels—or rather, they would take the train from New York if they had an international flight routed through the east coast. Her parents, Carlotta and Sterling Bay, were two of the hardiest souls she knew, yet she couldn’t ignore her mother’s request. Even her older sister, Honey, and her husband Gabe were flying in for the party from their home in Sydney, Australia. Ivy’s twin brothers and their wives and tribe of nine children would also be there, along with other family friends.
Too many Bays on that shore, Gabe often joked, but it was true. Their family was multiplying. Her brothers Flint and Forrest had continued her parents’ humorous affection for names. So had she, although her daughters were actually named Mistral and Soleil, on her husband’s insistence. His surname, Marin, wasn’t too far from Bay, and they’d even laughed about it on their first date. He was from Cannes, and a love of the ocean ran through them like blood in their veins.
The only people missing from the party would be