Vanz staggered in behind them carrying a folded playpen for Daisy. He looked sleepy and a little dejected.
Ivy could guess why. “I’m setting up a light breakfast here in the kitchen and in the dining room with muffins, granola, fruit, and yogurt. Who’s hungry?”
“Everyone, I’m sure. Especially this one.” She tapped Daisy’s nose. “I’ll set up the family table in here. Where are Poppy and Sunny?”
“Probably sleeping in or getting ready. They knew there wasn’t much to do for guests this morning.”
Ivy left her sister to it. She prepared the breakfast in the dining room for Caleb and the young Italian couple, who were eager to explore the beach today. Gilda rarely came down for breakfast, preferring to write late and sleep in.
After they all ate, Ivy carried food warmers into the ballroom, positioning electric food warming trays along the antique sideboards and long buffet tables they’d arranged as serving stations. Morning light streamed through tall windows, illuminating the space where their guests would gather this evening.
Laughter spilled from the kitchen. Through thewindows, she saw Bennett take off down the beach for his run.
The household was awake. Ivy loved this time of day before a holiday gathering. The preparations, the laughter, and the inevitable culinary misses that would need to be salvaged.
Minor, she hoped.
Shelly brought in a tray of miniature pumpkins she’d hollowed out to hold candles and small pots of marigolds in the golden colors of the season. “These came out better than I expected.”
Positioning the centerpieces on trivets, Shelly placed them on round tables draped with cream-colored tablecloths. She arranged burnt-orange burlap artfully around each centerpiece.
“I love how you wrapped golden twine around the pots,” Ivy said, admiring her sister’s handiwork. “Where did you leave Daisy?”
“She’s being spoiled by Vanz in the kitchen. Daisy makes him laugh, and he treats her like a doll. Until she has a meltdown, of course. Mitch can handle that. It’s his turn.”
Ivy enjoyed hearing about her sister’s approach to motherhood. She also suspected Vanz needed special attention today. She recalled how difficult it had been being away from home on holidays when she lived in Boston.
Ivy reached for a basket. On her morning walks, she had been collecting driftwood for decorating accents, along with shells, which she would return to the beach after the holiday.
Shelly adjusted an arrangement. “The kitchen smells amazing already.”
“It’s only beginning,” Ivy said, adding shells to the centerpiece arrangements. “Wait until Mitch’s turkeys go into the oven. He has a strict schedule for every dish.”
“I saw that. I’m staying out here where it’s safe.” Shelly slid copper chargers beneath white plates. Next, she arranged sunflowers in tall, vintage crystal vases she’d found in the old butler’s pantry for the buffet table. Satisfied, she paused and turned to Ivy.
“If you haven’t noticed, Vanz is a little sad today,” Shelly said. “He talked to his mother yesterday, and she promised she would take a bus here, but he hasn’t heard from her. None of us have. I’ve spoken to her on the phone, and I didn’t think she was like that. But I’ve never met her, so I don’t know.”
“That’s a shame, but we’ll take care of him today.”
Ivy returned to the kitchen to check on the cooking progress.
The room hummed with activity. Mitch rubbed one turkey with garlic and olive oil and basted another one in butter. Every surface had been transformed into a designated workstation with ingredients arranged in order.
Poppy had joined them and was slicing vegetables. Occasionally, she stirred cranberries simmering with orange zest on the stove. Vanz was plowing through the muffins, and Daisy was in her highchair, making a mess with granola and blueberries, but she was happy.
Mitch lifted his chin toward the new electric ovens. “Glad you added those. We couldn’t produce this meal with just the original vintage gas oven. These birds are too big to even fit in there.”
“Can we use that one for the bread and pies?” Ivy said.
Mitch glanced up. “Check the schedule. Every dish hasits time slot. No jumping the line. The turkeys will cook long and slow.”
She glanced at the clock. “Has Sunny been down this morning? I thought she’d be up by now.”
Poppy chopped a potato with sudden vigor. “Maybe she’s sleeping in.”
Ivy frowned. “That’s not like her on a holiday. I should check on her. I hope she’s not sick.”
Just then, Daisy screamed and tried to escape the highchair.
