17
Shielding her eyes from the morning sunshine, Ivy held out the phone to Shelly. “Straight to voice mail again.”
Shelly adjusted the strap of her floral-print overalls and leaned on the patio table near the pool. “I hope nothing has happened to Mom and Dad.”
“They’re likely just out of range.” Ivy couldn’t let herself imagine anything else, or she’d never stop worrying. She and Shelly and Poppy had been writing up a debriefing memo on their first spa week—what worked, what didn’t, and what they could add for the next one. Overall, guests had been enthusiastic; they’d left rested and rejuvenated. Even with additional costs for the events, the inn was profitable that week.
Ivy put down her phone. “We’ll keep trying.”
“I will,” Shelly said. “You’ll soon be on your honeymoon.”
“A start
