Page 55 of Seabreeze Library


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“Slowly but surely. We’re at the noisy stage with jackhammers and power tools from dawn till dusk.” She asked about Raquel’s brother Carlos and told her that Bennett would love to keep in touch.

“Maybe we’ll visit when the inn is ready.”

“We’d love to see you,” Ivy said. “You know, we’ve made some fascinating discoveries along the way.”

Raquel gasped. “More paintings?”

“Not this time. Instead, we found the original plans for a library and art museum that Amelia Erickson commissioned but never built. It’s an incredible design and would have been stunning.” She told her about the famous architect and what having a new library would mean to Summer Beach.

“How intriguing. Why not build it now?” Raquel sounded decisive. “Such a treasure should not remain only on paper.”

“We’re trying to figure out how to make that happen,” Ivy replied. “The city doesn’t have the budget, and we’re working on fundraising ideas.” She paused, then decided to dive in.

“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. We found something else. A paper with what appears to be a Swiss bank address and possibly a bank account number. A note indicates Amelia, or her father, set aside funds specifically for this project. I wonder if the account was overlooked when she developed Alzheimer’s later in life.”

There was a thoughtful silence on the other end. “This is very interesting,” Raquel finally said. “Sometimes, my grandfather spoke of families who deposited their money and valuables in Swiss banks during those terrible years. They were considered safe havens, and most were able to retrieve what they had safeguarded, but not always.”

“Why would that have been?”

“If the account holder died or lacked the necessary identification, it could be a problem. Many people lost their papers during imprisonment or relocation.”

“Do you know if it’s possible, or even likely, that such an account could still exist?” Ivy held her breath, hoping for some confirmation that she wasn’t chasing a dream.

“It is definitely worth pursuing,” Raquel answered firmly. “I know of several cases where families recovered funds and belongings, even decades later. The Swiss designed theirbanking system precisely for privacy and security. If the account existed but was never closed, there is a good chance it still does.”

A renewed rush of hope surged through her. “That’s encouraging.”

“The difficulty, of course, is proving your right to access it,” Raquel continued. “The same privacy laws that protected the assets make them challenging to claim. But not impossible, especially if you have documentation connecting Amelia to the account.”

“We have a paper with what looks like the bank’s address and a number that could be an account number,” Ivy explained. “And we found a note specifically mentioning funds designated for the Summer Beach Library and Art Museum.”

“That is more than many start with,” Raquel said. “You must follow this trail, Ivy. If nothing else, it is a fascinating historical puzzle. And if it’s successful? Imagine what it would mean for your community.”

“I will,” Ivy said, already thinking about next steps. “Thanks, Raquel. I knew you’d understand why this matters so much.”

After promising to send photos of the finished inn, Ivy ended the call. She stared out at the ocean, watching sunlight dance across its surface.

The seagull returned, alighting on the railing again.

“Well, hello you. Did you come to sprinkle fairy dust over me?”

Once again, the bird angled its head at her and stared.

Who to contact next?she mused, tapping her pencil. The Swiss bank itself seemed like an obvious choice, but from what she’d read, they would be unlikely to release information unless she went through legal channels.

She brought out her laptop to research more.

After replenishing her coffee cup, Ivy had another idea.Viola in San Francisco.

The older woman knew a lot of professionals who might have the knowledge she needed. Maybe she would know of someone.

That possibility was worth a phone call.

Once again, the seagull lifted off, soaring into the skies. And then, she thought of another person who might have even more intimate knowledge.

19

The umbrella over Ivy’s table at the Oceanview Cafe cast dappled shadows across her notebook as she tapped her pencil, waiting for an international phone call to connect.