Seabreeze gala, p.1
Seabreeze Gala, page 1
part #1 of Summer Beach, Book 10 Series
Praise for USA Today And Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author Jan Moran
Seabreeze Inn and Coral Cottage series
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“A wonderful story… Will make you feel like the sea breeze is streaming through your hair.” – Laura Bradbury, Bestselling Author
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“A novel that gives fans of romantic sagas a compelling voice to follow.” – Booklist
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“An entertaining beach read with multi-generational context and humor.” – InD’Tale Magazine
“Wonderful characters and a sweet story.” – Kellie Coates Gilbert, Bestselling Author
“A fun read that grabs you at the start.” – Tina Sloan, Author and Award-Winning Actress
“Jan Moran is the queen of the epic romance.” —Rebecca Forster, USA Today Bestselling Author
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“The women are intelligent and strong. At the core is a strong, close-knit family.” — Betty’s Reviews
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The Chocolatier
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“A delicious novel, makes you long for chocolate.” – Ciao Tutti
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“Smoothly written…full of intrigue, love, secrets, and romance.” – Lekker Lezen
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The Winemakers
“Readers will devour this page-turner as the mystery and passions spin out.” – Library Journal
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“As she did in Scent of Triumph, Moran weaves knowledge of wine and winemaking into this intense family drama.” – Booklist
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The Perfumer: Scent of Triumph
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“Heartbreaking, evocative, and inspiring, this book is a powerful journey.” – Allison Pataki, NYT Bestselling Author of The Accidental Empress
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“A sweeping saga of one woman’s journey through World War II and her unwillingness to give up even when faced with the toughest challenges.” — Anita Abriel, Author of The Light After the War
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“A captivating tale of love, determination and reinvention.” — Karen Marin, Givenchy Paris
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“A stylish, compelling story of a family. What sets this apart is the backdrop of perfumery that suffuses the story with the delicious aromas – a remarkable feat!” — Liz Trenow, NYT Bestselling Author of The Forgotten Seamstress
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“Courageous heroine, star-crossed lovers, splendid sense of time and place capturing the unease and turmoil of the 1940s; HEA.” — Heroes and Heartbreakers
Books by Jan Moran
Summer Beach Series
Seabreeze Inn
Seabreeze Summer
Seabreeze Sunset
Seabreeze Christmas
Seabreeze Wedding
Seabreeze Book Club
Seabreeze Shores
Seabreeze Reunion
Seabreeze Honeymoon
Seabreeze Gala
Seabreeze Library
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Coral Cottage Series
Coral Cottage
Coral Cafe
Coral Holiday
Coral Weddings
Coral Celebration
Coral Memories
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Crown Island Series
Beach View Lane
Sunshine Avenue
Orange Blossom Way
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The Love, California Series
Flawless
Beauty Mark
Runway
Essence
Style
Sparkle
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20th-Century Historical
Hepburn’s Necklace
The Chocolatier
The Winemakers: A Novel of Wine and Secrets
The Perfumer: Scent of Triumph
Life is a Cabernet
Seabreeze Gala
Summer Beach, Book 10
Jan Moran
Copyright © 2024 Jan Moran
All Rights Reserved
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All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Moran, Jan.
/ by Jan Moran
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ISBN 978-1-64778-189-7 (epub)
ISBN 978-1-64778-190-3 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-64778-191-0 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-64778-192-7 (large print)
ISBN 978-1-64778-193-4 (audiobook)
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Published by Sunny Palms Press. Cover design by Sleepy Fox Studios. Cover images copyright Deposit Photos.
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Sunny Palms Press
9663 Santa Monica Blvd STE 1158
Beverly Hills, CA, USA
www.sunnypalmspress.com
www.JanMoran.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Recipe: Mandarin Orange and Avocado Salad
About the Author
1
Carrying a vintage orange crate from the garage, Ivy opened the kitchen door with her sneaker, taking care to navigate around little Daisy, who was now crawling across the kitchen floor toward a shaft of sunlight on the linoleum.
Her sister Shelly was a relaxed beach mom who thought germs were a necessary part of life. Fortunately, they had just mopped.
Ivy plopped the box on the counter and rolled up her sleeves. “I found more decorations we might use for the fundraiser.” She removed the dusty muslin fabric covering the former owner’s party treasures they’d found.
Her younger sister and their niece traded a quick guilty glance.
Ivy knew that look. She waggled a finger between them. “What’s up with you two?”
“Why do you always think that?” Shelly shot back. “Hey, slow down, Daisy-cakes.” She swept back her tumbling chestnut hair, then scooped up her daughter and pointed her in a new direction away from the stove.
Ivy rubbed her neck, slightly exasperated at whatever secret they were keeping. “If there’s something I should know, don’t hold back. This gala will decide the fate of the Seabreeze Inn.”
Poppy raised her brow. “Aunt Ivy, we think the event should be grand enough for wealthy donors to feel compelled to contribute to the restoration fund, but…”
“Not too spectacular,” Shelly finished. “Or they’ll think we don’t need their help. Maybe we should let a few cracks in the façade show.”
“No shortage of those.” Grinning, Ivy pushed her hair from her forehead. “We could share photos of our antiquated plumbing and electrical systems. Better yet, let’s put buckets under the leaky ceilings. Decorated, of course.”
“That would be novel,” Shelly said, chuckling. “But Viola might have a fit.”
Ivy hooked her thumbs in the pockets of her workday blue jeans. “Look, anyone who’s ever owned a home knows you can’t patch and paint forever—especially a property of this age. Still, I want people to see what a magnificent historical property this is—and how much better it could be. It’s for all of Summer Beach now, not only us.”
For the past few years, she had been keeping the old beach house together with a combination of luck, fortitude, and quick fixes. But that recipe for marginal success wouldn’t stretch much farther in a house now a hundred years old.
When Ivy arrived in Summer Beach, her goal had been to make the rooms comfortable enough to rent for income. Yet, the more she learned about the historical home, the more she felt drawn to restore the inn to its former glory as a centerpiece of the community.
“Wow, would you look at this?” Poppy unwrapped a slightly dented silver serving dish blackened with age. “This place might be a little downtrodden, but I suppose guests from San Francisco and the Bay Area will expect an elegant affair. This piece should polish up well.”
“That’s what people say about us—right, Ives?” Shelly laughed and plucked a purple feather boa from a different box. “Don’t worry; fancy is my middle name. I have to wear this.”
Ivy swatted her sister on the shoulder. “I’m serious. This is an ultra-black-tie fundraiser. You saw the invitations.” They were creamy ivory with gold embossing that read: The Las Brisas del Mar Historical Preservation Gala at the Seabreeze Inn.
“How’s this?” Shelly looped the long, fluffy strand around her neck.
“Don’t you dare.” They might not have a large budget, but Ivy was determined to welcome guests to the most glamorous beachside gala they could muster.
Guests would have to imagine how the old structure would look once renovated, but the inn had to shine with sparkling possibility. After all, that’s what the fundraiser was for.
Ivy was incredibly grateful to Viola Standish for seeding the event with her generous donation. The auction of Amelia Erickson’s newly discovered Victorian diamond necklace would be the highlight of the evening.
Nearby, Daisy gurgled with laughter. With surprising speed, she crawled in wide-eyed wonder toward twin turquoise refrigerators humming like a Pied Piper. She stared, fixated, on the lower grate, which concealed all sorts of dangers.
“Watch out, Daisy alert,” Poppy called out.
“Gotcha.” Shelly swooped down to lift Daisy, now a chubby hands-width from another potential disaster. “Relax, I’ve got this, Ives. With this fabulous bit of finery and a black sundress, I’m ready for anything.” Daisy grabbed the feather boa with glee.
Ivy wasn’t so sure. “We must be at the top of our game, or Viola will be extremely disappointed. She committed to inviting her friends, who all have very high standards. You are not wearing a faded old sundress—with or without that tragic purple thing.”
Shelly grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a sparkly dress. We still need to figure out what we’re wearing. How about Thrifty Threads? That will fit into our budgets.”
“It will have to.” Ivy laughed, but she liked that idea. “It’s just one evening anyway.”
She’d been so busy tending to the gala preparations that she hadn’t had time to think about a dress. Viola would expect her and Shelly to be properly attired to greet her guests.
Viola had strict standards.
A few months ago, Ivy and Bennett’s honeymoon flight was delayed in San Francisco. They sought out the old Erickson home and met the current owner, Viola Standish, and her niece, Meredith. The Pacific Heights house was spectacular. Amelia Erickson had engaged the same architect to build her summer home, Las Brisas del Mar, which Ivy had christened the Seabreeze Inn. Both properties carried historical designations.
Viola referred to Ivy and herself as custodians of history. The Seabreeze Inn had become more than an inn; it was a frequent gathering place for Summer Beach residents. Everyone was welcome to roam art shows on the grounds and attend the annual holiday festivities. The inn also hosted book clubs, and music students visited to practice and perform. The old beach house inn buzzed with locals and guests alike.
Considering all this, Viola’s nonprofit organization and her advisor helped Ivy apply for a combination of grants, tax credits, and other creative options to provide funds for repairs. Viola’s standards for historical preservation were high.
Shelly tickled Daisy’s face with the feathers. “I can do high standards all day long. I made about a billion floral arrangements for bridezillas and charity mavens in New York. For this event, I envision a glamorous, vintage seafaring theme of aquamarine blue and seafoam green with silver accents. Let’s play up the old beach house angle.”
“We could check with Arthur at Antique Times,” Poppy said. “Maybe he would lend us the old ship’s wheel and buoys in the window for the event.”
Shelly’s eyes brightened. “Great idea. The old ballroom will sparkle with treasures, I promise.”
“It has to.” Ivy opened another box. “This is it. If we don’t raise enough money to repair everything here, we’ll be looking for other jobs.” At least the ballroom was in reasonably good shape with its vintage chandeliers, comfortably worn parquet floors, and an enormous fireplace. Low lights would soften the imperfections.
Still, a growing construction list loomed in Ivy’s mind. The old grand dame by the sea needed repairs or replacements to the roof, windows, insulation, electrical, plumbing, heating, and air-conditioning.
If Ivy had extra funds, she would continue restoring the hardwood floors and other interior features. The only part that didn’t need substantial work was the surrounding garden. Shelly had already worked her horticultural magic on the grounds, though Ivy suspected Shelly had a wish list, too.
Poppy hefted another old orange crate to the counter. “This is the last of the decorations. I hope there’s a lot we can repurpose. Wow, lots of old seashells in here.” She wrinkled her brow at the gaudy feather boa. “But maybe not that thing, Aunt Shelly. Surely you can do better than that.”
“I’ll consider that a throwdown. And I can use all those shells. We can’t take them from the beach anymore.” Shelly unwound the boa, plucking purple feathers from her shoulders and Daisy’s soft blond curls.
They all laughed. Her sister was creative; Ivy would give her that. They had both inherited that trait from their mother, who was somewhere on the other side of the world sailing the high seas with their father. Even in their seventies, their parents were out living their best lives and showed few signs of slowing down, physically or mentally. Goals, Ivy thought, smiling to herself.
She was figuring out how to live her best life, too. Memories of her honeymoon with Bennett in Mallorca floated to mind. Her mother had been right about that being an essential trip for them. It was the most time they’d ever spent together, just the two of them. Ivy would cherish those recollections as long as she lived.
She leaned on the countertop, surveying the assortment of glittery decorations. “I could sure use Mom’s advice right now. Remember all the parties she and Dad used to throw?”
Shelly plucked another feather from her T-shirt and tickled Daisy’s nose. The little girl laughed and clapped her hands. “They loved to entertain. I remember sneaking out of bed to watch the grownups and snitch all the desserts I could carry back to my room.”
“We all did.” Ivy smiled. “Won’t be long before Daisy is doing that, too.”
Her tiny niece had started crawling with gusto and pulling up to stand. She was babbling nearly nonstop. Soon, she’d be walking and forming coherent words. It seemed like only yesterday that her daughters were that age. Those days flew by in a seemingly endless whirlwind of laundry, dishes, and sleepless nights.
Her daughters were grown now. Sunny was poised to graduate from university this year. Misty worked as an actress in Los Angeles, steadily paying her dues with commercials, audiobooks, theater, and small television parts. Ivy knew her break would come soon.
Intrigued by the finery on the counters, Daisy tried to squirm out of Shelly’s arms.
“Daisy is going to be outrunning us soon. We’ll need to keep up.” Ivy was closer to being a grandmother than a young mother again. That thought shocked her. She had been Misty’s age when her first child was born.
The house phone trilled, banishing that thought, and Ivy picked up the extension in the kitchen. “It’s a sunny day at the Seabreeze Inn. How may I help you?”
A strong, authoritative voice burst through the receiver. “This is Mrs. Hampshire. I’m calling to make a reservation for Viola Standish’s charity gala.”
Ivy shook her head. She wished she could conjure more rooms. “I’m sorry, but we’re fully booked. You could try the Seal Cove Inn or a hotel in a neighboring town.”
“Would you recheck your reservations? I can assure you that I will make it worth your while. I’m sure your rates will be much higher, if you know what I mean.”
