Page 67 of Seabreeze Library

“That’s right.” Ivy filled her in about the dormant funds, how they discovered the account, and that Lea was the heir.

Ivy closed her eyes, gathering courage. “I understand this is a big request, and you’ve already been so generous. Still, if you’re confirmed as the heir, would you consider donating those funds to Summer Beach to build the library and art museum your great-aunt envisioned?”

The silence that followed stretched long enough that Ivy wondered if the call had dropped.

Finally, Lea spoke. “You’re probably looking for a will and death certificate, yes?”

“Those would help establish your claim.”

“And you need me to do that first.”

Ivy pressed a hand to her heart. “That’s right.”

“Well then, you’re in luck,” Lea said. “I’ll ask my attorney to express mail them to you tomorrow. It took me a long time to locate those documents, but I keep several official copies on hand now.”

Ivy sat up, slightly shocked. “That would be incredible, thank you. Are you in London?”

“My husband and I are in New York, and we’re finally celebrating the sale of my educational software company. I’ve been working toward this deal for the past year and signed the final papers this afternoon. This has been an enormous success, and I loved building the business, but I’m ready to start a new life with my husband now.”

Ivy was genuinely pleased for her. “Congratulations. That’s wonderful news.”

Lea hesitated. “As for your situation, you should know that dormant account claims like this can take a very long time. These banks have held onto a lot of money for years, and it’s not easy to assert rights to it for many reasons.”

“I understand,” Ivy said solemnly.

“However, if I am deemed the legal heir,” Lea continued, “consider the funds yours. I might not have met my great-grandfather or Amelia, but I know they would be pleased to have an art museum in Summer Beach now. It’s incredible to think she had plans drawn up. Art was their life, their common bond. I assume you’re establishing a nonprofit entity to build and manage the library and art museum?”

“Andrew mentioned that,” Ivy replied. “I appreciate your help. This will mean so much to Summer Beach residents.”

“I’m glad you caught me,” Lea said, sounding a little rushed. “We’re leaving on a long trip soon. This first year of marriage has been so busy we’ve hardly had time to enjoy each other.” Curiosity edged into her voice. “Where in town will this be built?”

“We’re still working on that.”

“Please keep me informed,” Lea said. “I’d love to visit it. Even from beyond, Amelia Erickson has created such a lasting benefit for the place she loved. After all, that’s what legacies are for, aren’t they? To benefit those who come after us. Thank you for contacting me about this. All these years later, it will be a privilege to direct her funds where she wanted them if we are lucky enough to claim them. I sincerely hope this effort comes to fruition. If it does, I hope you will act as curator of the museum?”

“I’ve considered it, but that’s a long way off. We have a lot to do before we reach that point.” While the idea was appealing, Ivy wasn’t sure how much time that would require.

After discussing the final details, thanking and congratulating Lea again, Ivy ended the call. Blinking back sudden tears of joy, she lowered the phone, overcome with Lea’s generosity. It wasn’t only about the money, Ivy knew.

Lea had once told her she’d been searching for a connection to the past to give meaning to her future. Her family had suffered during the war, and she had never known her parents or grandparents.

Ivy sat motionless for several minutes, watching darkness settle over the beach, studded with lights.

The possibility that had seemed so remote was now taking shape. Still, Ivy noted Lea’s warning and remained cautiously optimistic. There were more challenges before her vision could become a reality.

For the first time since discovering the architectural plans, Ivy allowed herself to imagine walking through the completed library and the adjoining art museum.

Oh, what I could do with that, she thought. A student artist exhibit area, a section of female artists, or local California artists. There were plenty of talented people who hadn’t received their full recognition.

This would be the first cultural center for the community.

She imagined sunlight streaming through windows, books lining shelves, art hanging on walls, and locals gathering in beautiful spaces designed nearly a century ago by a woman whose dreams had outlived her.

Maybe that was the nature of vision. To create what would outlast you, much like planting the proverbial tree whose shade you wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy.

However, it all hinged on a foreign bank’s acceptance of decades-old documents. This project still needed community support, because she couldn’t depend on that.

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