Page 17 of Seabreeze Library

“Is that what you call it? I seem to remember an unfortunate incident with a hammer, among other things.”

“I call that architectural innovation, my friend.” Mitch’s grin was infectious. “So I like to live vicariously through Reed’s competence.”

“Guess I’m building Shelly a shed next.” Bennett shook his head, but he enjoyed Mitch’s company. He’d call some friends, and they’d have it done in a weekend. Mitch would gladly feed them all for that. He was industrious and always treated his friends in exchange for favors.

Most folks who lived in Summer Beach were like that. But it was more than that. He and Mitch had a long history. Long before Ivy and Shelly arrived in town, eager to sell the old house Ivy’s late husband had bought, unbeknownst to her.

Mitch might have been sleeping in his car after he was released from a year in prison for a teenaged mistake, but it was his optimism and hustle, selling coffee on the beach to sunrise surfers, that inspired Bennett to help him. Darla stepped in, too, and they helped Mitch get the funds he needed to open Java Beach.

Today, it was one of the most popular spots in town.

As he loaded the food into insulated bags, Bennett wondered why Shelly had called, not Ivy. “What do you think they’re up to?”

Mitch shrugged, finishing the nachos. “With those two? Could be anything. Nothing would surprise me anymore.” He wiped down the counters and tossed a towel into a basket.

Bennett picked up the food. “Let’s see what’s going on.”

6

“Come on in,” Libby called out, flicking on the bookmobile’s interior lights. “There’s room for everyone. It’s larger on the inside, like the Tardis.”

Ivy laughed at theDr. Whoreference and stepped inside, following Darla, Jen, Louise, and other book club members. Exclamations of delight quickly filled the air. Immediately, Ivy was struck by how the interior seemed larger than possible.

Somebody had thoughtfully utilized the space, yet nothing felt cramped. Wooden shelves lined the walls, their warm honey color showcasing a rainbow of book spines. Clever brass library lamps were mounted between sections, casting a warm glow that made the space feel cozy rather than confined.

Shelly hurried back into the bookmobile with Daisy. “What did I miss?”

Ivy gestured toward a donation box and a shelf for books for sale. “That’s why Libby had the exact change for her room,” she whispered. “This is how she makes her living.”

“She’s pretty creative,” Shelly said, bouncing Daisy on her hip. “A privately owned bookmobile. Who would’ve thought?”

Now in her element, Libby transformed. She grew more animated and confident as she showed off carefully organized, hand-painted shelves and a reading nook stuffed with lounge pillows in the form of animals.

“She’s good with people,” Shelly murmured.

“And she knows her books,” Ivy added. “She has a nice assortment of the latest beach reads, biographies, children’s picture books, and gardening guides. She knows her patrons.”

Shelly leaned in. “Wish we could keep her here in Summer Beach. Are you sure there’s no way we could?”

Ivy shook her head. “If she gets that job in Los Angeles, she won’t be far. Maybe she’ll visit again if she’s not too busy.”

In the reading nook, Louise plopped onto a plush purple turtle and howled with laughter when she couldn’t get up. Darla tried pulling her to her feet but stumbled on a stuffed elephant and crashed beside her.

Laughing, Libby stepped in to help them both to their feet, and Shelly gave her a hand.

“No worries, this happens a lot,” Libby said, smiling.

Once on her feet again, Darla and Louise thanked them and headed toward the sale rack.

Libby turned to Ivy and Shelly. “Did you see the ceiling?”

Ivy tilted her head back to take in more whimsical paintings. Someone painted the entire length to resemble library endpapers, with swirling marbled patterns in deep shades of scarlet, gold, and ocean blue. Author quotes rendered in calligraphy wove around the perimeter. One in particular caught her eye.

Literature is my Utopia.– Helen Keller

“The quotes glow in the dark,” Libby said, noticing Ivy’s interest. “A little paint magic that enchants children when I dim the lights.”

“Did the same artist who painted the outside do this?” Shelly asked.

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