Ivy stood watching the first annual Summer Beach Bookfest at the old airfield, where she’d been setting up since sunrise. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind of activity. The book festival and the final construction phase on the inn had kept Ivy’s mind off the issue of the dormant bank account that Andrew was working through. The Bookfest was even more important to Summer Beach now.
“Nervous?” Bennett asked. He handed her a cup of coffee from Mitch’s Java Beach booth.
“Grateful,” Ivy replied. “Look at all these people.”
“They’re here because of you,” Bennett said. “Your vision brought this entire event together.”
Ivy dipped her head. “I wasn’t the first to envision a library for Summer Beach.”
Bennett stared at her. “You called for a new library long before you found those plans, and you rallied your team to execute this event. Don’t diminish your efforts.”
“Did I just do that?” Ivy pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, my goodness, I did. Thanks for catching that. I warn Misty and Sunny about being too modest.”
She shook her head, realizing she’d just fallen into the trap of automatically minimizing her efforts. Modesty was one thing, but downplaying accomplishments was quite another. Many women of her generation and those before still had society’s old rules for women embedded in their subconscious minds.
And that was so last century.
Bennett put his arm across her shoulders. “You made this happen, sweetheart, despite lacking city council support.”
“Maybe someone ought to start a recall campaign of that short-sighted mayor.” Ivy grinned.
“I never want to come up against you in a popularity contest. You’d win, hands down.”
Ivy laughed, teasing him. “Better watch your back then.”
Raising her chin, she gazed over the throngs of book lovers with satisfaction. The old Seabreeze Shores Airfield was now a bustling hub of literary celebration.
Vendor tents and families populated the sunny expanse, but it hadn’t always looked this way. During Prohibition in the 1920s, mobster Tony Diamond built the airfield to smuggle booze into the states and onto gambling barges anchored off the coast beyond the legal line. Recently, Ivy and her family had been part of the effort to repurpose the former runways as bike trails and walking paths.
Today, the turnout exceeded even Ivy’s most optimistic projections. People lined up to pay a modest admission fee, and families spread blankets on grassy areas between booths where authors were signing books.
Bennett’s sister Kendra and her family had brought blankets and chairs. She and Bennett were staying with them while Reed’s crew was renovating their apartment, among the last of the units at the inn. Ivy was grateful to Bennett’s family. Kendra and Dave had made them feel so comfortable and welcome.
Poppy was navigating the happy crowd, directing volunteers. She gathered Ivy, Bennett, and Libby together. “It’s time to welcome everyone to the Bookfest.”
When she gave the signal, Ivy picked up a microphone and said, “Good morning, book lovers.” She waited a moment for the enthusiastic cheers to die down.
“Welcome to the inaugural Summer Beach Bookfest,” Ivy began, her voice carrying across the gathering. “Thank you for coming and supporting efforts to bring a library back to Summer Beach. As many of you know, the Ericksons were early settlers and built what is now the Seabreeze Inn. If Mrs. Erickson were here today, I know she would be pleased to see how her dream of bringing books and art to our community inspires us nearly a century later.”
She gestured to the colorful scene around them, where authors signed books, children explored Libby’s bookmobile, and people mobbed theBlind Date with a Booktable of exquisitely wrapped literary surprises.
“This festival represents more than just a fundraiser for our future library. It’s about our community taking ownership of this effort.” Ivy paused, taking in the familiar faces around her. “Building a library may take years. It will require persistence, creativity, and your continued support. But today is proof that Summer Beach values the written word, the exchange of ideas, and the creation of spaces where everyone belongs.”
Applause rippled through the crowd, and she passed the microphone to Bennett, who added a few words about the city’s support of the new bookmobile service and introduced the city’s new librarian. Standing beside the mayor, Libby beamed.
After Bennett’s talk, several townspeople approached him. Ivy knew he’d be busy, so she strolled through the festival, enjoying the excitement. She stopped to chat with authors,admired children’s artwork inspired by favorite books, and helped an elderly couple find a shaded seating area.
“Hey, you,” Shelly called to her. “Great welcome speech.”
Ivy joined her in the children’s tent. “I’m thrilled with the turnout.”
Daisy sat in her sister’s arms, entranced by a hand-puppet show about baby barnyard animals.
“This is incredible,” Shelly said. “I’ve never seen her sit still for this long. Maybe I should whip up some sock puppets at home.”
“That’s easy to do. Kids often like simple toys the best. My girls loved playing with boxes and banging wooden spoons. Building a blanket fort was always popular.”
“Hey, babes.” Mitch appeared, balancing a tray of pastry samples from his Java Beach booth. He bent to kiss Shelly and Daisy on the cheeks.
