That’s it, she thought, before blurting out, “This lacks Amelia’s appreciation of creativity.”
Frowning, Forrest leaned in. “What do you mean by that?”
“It’s a museum, so it needs art that has an authentic vision.” She snapped her fingers. Suddenly she knew. “Like Gaudí in Barcelona.”
“Who?” Forrest asked.
“A celebrated architect who lived in Spain. Antoni Gaudí created whimsical designs that furthered the Catalan Modernism and Art Nouveau trends in the first part of the twentieth century. Have you ever seen photos of the Parc Güell? The mosaics are magnificent, as if sprouted from nature. So creative and joyful, a pure explosion of exuberant colors.”
While her reference sparked a small light in Bennett’s eyes, her nephew’s stare was blank.
“Look it up,” she said, growing excited. “Gaudí’s work has always captured my imagination. Maybe we can hire a contemporary artist to create fanciful accents. I know there are some in Southern California. I just don’t know who they are.”
Yet, that is.
Still, the two men didn’t share her vision. Bennett and Forrest might be trying to understand her artist’s soul, but they weren’t there yet.
“I’ll show you some examples later,” she added.
Forrest nodded to appease her. “In the meantime, we need to survey the land to determine the topography and confirm easements and property lines.”
Ivy recalled the day they’d christened the site for the library and art museum. “When you look at the topography, will you also look at what’s below the surface? I’m thinking about what my shovel hit when we had the kick-off celebration. It seemed like old concrete. Or maybe it was metal.”
“The survey will identify any issues that might affect construction,” Forrest said. “There’s a natural rise in elevation on that land. What you hit might have been an old drainage pipe or a large rock. We find all sorts of things when we begin excavation for construction. Finding old relics, fossils, or graves will slow down the process.”
“How will we know what’s down there?” Ivy asked.
“You won’t, not until we begin the excavation.”
She wondered if they should wait that long to find something that might hamper the project schedule.
Just then, the kitchen door burst open, and Shellystepped inside, holding a toddler on her hip. Her wavy, sun-bleached chestnut hair was windblown, and little blond-haired Daisy clutched a picture book. They both wore sundresses with sandals.
Ivy greeted her sister and niece with hugs. “Is that a new story from the bookmobile?”
Shelly smoothed her daughter’s fine hair. “We were playing on the beach when Libby parked her bookmobile nearby. Daisy squeals every time she sees that magical vehicle, so we had to visit.”
Ivy sent a pointed look at Bennett and Forrest, but the proof was lost on them.
Shelly nodded toward the plans. “How is the new project going?”
“I didn’t realize how many details there’d be, but it’s coming together,” Ivy replied. “Thanks to our amazingly talented brother.”
Daisy’s eyes widened at the rendering. She cooed with delight and pointed at it.
Bennett laughed. “There’s your first resident approval.”
“That will be an incredible building,” Shelly said.
Bennett leaned in. “Too much?”
Shelly made a face. “I think too much is just about right. Don’t let people scare you. Although Summer Beach could use something quirky, like Laguna Beach’s artistic influences.”
“That’s exactly what I thought,” Ivy said.
Bennett grinned. “Okay, I know that look on your face, sweetheart.”
“Well, it is an art museum.” She tapped the rendering as ideas whirred through her mind. She would figure it out.
