Page 39 of Seabreeze Library

Ivy guided Libby to an overstuffed chair and sat across from her. Ivy’s heart cracked for the young woman. She remembered how she’d felt after Jeremy died and how difficult it had been to reenter the workforce after so many years, the occasional tutoring of art students notwithstanding.

She also recalled how lonely she felt. Many friends didn’t know how to act around a new widow. So their calls became fewer and farther between. The dinners she and Jeremy had once enjoyed with other couples ceased entirely; she became an extra person who threatened to upset the natural balance.

What she didn’t realize then was that she’d gained her freedom. Later, she thought of that as a consolation prize that allowed her to do whatever she wanted with her life on her terms.

Ivy noticed tears welling in Libby’s eyes. “Thank you for sharing that. I sense you’ve had some difficulties in your life, and I’m sorry we started off wrong.”

Wiping her eyes, Libby managed a shaky smile. “Me, too,” she said in a small voice. “I never wanted to hurt any of you.”

“From what I’ve seen,” Ivy continued, “you’ve brought happiness to many people in the community. And having the freedom to travel and create your income is what many people dream of.”

“I loved that in the beginning,” Libby said, beginning to recover her composure. “Being alone, even though I was surrounded by children and adults, became lonely after a while. And I want to rest sometimes but have no place to call home.”

“You’re seeking a home now, and that’s the first step.” Ivy leaned forward on a hunch. “How did you know about Amelia Erickson’s plans for a library here?”

“I was following Shelly’s blog,” Libby said, sniffing back her tears. “I became so intrigued that I began searching for Amelia Erickson’s history. I also had a part-time job transferring ancient microfiche to digitized files for a small newspaper. That’s how I discovered a reference to her in an old article.”

“What was the article about?” Ivy asked.

“It was an interview about Amelia working with Julia Morgan, the architect who designed her homes here and in San Francisco. She told the journalist she had engaged the architect to create plans for a library and art museum she would build in Summer Beach to honor her father.”

That made sense, given that Hans was a museum director. “Do you have a copy of that article?”

Libby brought out her phone and showed Ivy the photo she had taken of it. “I can print it for you.”

Ivy squinted to read it without her glasses. “Please. The writing is too small for me to make out.” She stared at Libby, piecing together the backstory that was shifting into focus, although there were still missing parts. “Besides discovering the architectural plans for a library, what else did you hope to find here?”

Libby rocked a little in her chair. “Summer Beach sounded like a place where I could feel safe.”

Ivy peered at her. “Safe from what?”

Looking flustered, Libby pressed a finger to the corner of her eye and shook her head.

Her reaction troubled Ivy. She wondered if she should mention the phone call. “Even though it sounds like you’ve had a grand adventure, I imagine traveling alone across the country can be frightening at times.”

Ivy laced her fingers and waited, but the young woman didn’t seem ready to elaborate. Whatever Libby was concealing had been heartbreaking to her.

“I can help you research more about Amelia’s plans for the library,” Libby said, veering off the topic. “That’s what I do. I was a research librarian.”

Ivy recalled the old newspaper article again. “If you researched the Ericksons, did you know we’d find the plans?”

“I hoped you would, like you’d found other things here.” Clasping her hands tightly, she paused to catch her breath. “If you built the library, I could help. I thought I could get a job here, that’s all.”

Ivy was more curious than ever now. Libby had done her research, made plans, and executed them. She had dared to dream, traveled to Summer Beach, and was willing to work. Ivy had to respect her actions, which seemed rational when put in perspective. This plan must be the best of Libby’s options.

Ivy touched her chin in thought. “Where did you say you went to school for your training?”

“I went a few places and finally graduated from a state university.”

Another vague answer. “You can trust us, Libby. If you want to help with a project, you should know that I expect honesty. That’s important to everyone in Summer Beach. This is a smalltown. And there are more than a few people who’ve overcome adversity and built new lives here.”

Wiping another errant tear that spilled onto her cheek, Libby nodded. “I want to trust people.”

“Then, why don’t you start by telling me your real name?”

Libby’s face grew ashen. “How did you know?”

Ivy stared back at her, weighing her thoughts. She didn’t want to spook the young woman, especially if she was in trouble or needed help.

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