The Ivy House (A Queensbay Novel)

by Drea Stein

  “Hey Paulie, we’ll have another round.”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Paulie flashed a quick smile and was gone.

  “Boss?”

  Chase shrugged. “I’m sort of a regular.”

  “Will you and the lady want something to eat?” Paulie had returned with their drinks.

  Phoebe was about to protest that it wasn’t a date, when Chase spoke up. “We’ll have a plate of the calamari and salad to start.”

  “I thought this was just drinks,” Phoebe pointed out, annoyed that he had ordered for her.

  Chase shrugged. “Shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach. Besides, their calamari is pretty good. Unless, you don’t like squid?”

  “Is it fried?” Phoebe asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Fine, I’m in. But this isn’t a date.”

  “Who said it was? Maybe you have a boyfriend. Maybe I have a girlfriend.” He said it casually enough, but she could see that he was waiting for the answer.

  “I’m not involved with anyone at the moment.” Phoebe thought of Garrett and wished she hadn’t. And then she thought of Dean. Good old reliable Dean, who was always trying to help her and her career. He had told her he would always be there, but she needed to ignore that if she was going to figure out what she wanted to do with her life.

  “Even better,” Chase said and she felt the pressure of his hand along the back of her chair, as he smiled roguishly down at her. Roguishly…where had that even come from? Who did that? It was almost predatory, as if he were sizing her up, seeing how she would taste. Phoebe felt her body tingle with attraction, a rush of heat between her legs, while her brain screamed no, no, no. So, she followed her brain and moved her shoulders around to give him the hands-off message, while her hands tightened around the stem of the wine glass.

  “Besides swimming and making pillows, what else do you do?” Chase asked, his arm steadily in place. Phoebe stopped trying to shrug it off, realizing that he was too solidly built for her to get him to move it.

  “I’m a designer. For a while, I worked with at Shelby Hill, the furniture catalog, and then I went freelance. I’ve designed movie sets, posters, then I did a lot of work for Doran Industries.”

  Chase nodded. “You mean the people who take a celebrity’s name and slap it on a bunch of stuff and sell it in the big-box stores.”

  Phoebe smiled thinly. She didn’t think that’s how CallieSue Owens would like to describe her newest business venture, but that was pretty much what it was.

  “Pretty much.”

  “But not anymore?” he asked.

  “No, I stopped when Savannah got really sick, to help look after her. And now, there seems to be a lot of loose ends to wrap up, so I am not sure what I am going to do.” Phoebe had her plan, but she wasn’t quite ready to share it with Chase at the moment.

  “That was nice of you. Hard for someone your age to give up her social life and career for a dying relative.”

  Phoebe gave a thin smile. “Savannah raised me. We were all each other had. It wasn’t hard at all to take care of her.”

  “I’m sensing a ‘but’ there,” Chase said, his dark eyes holding a connection to hers. Something warned her not to give too much away, but the way he was looking at her, his attention fully on her, compelled her to be honest.

  “There’s no ‘but.’” Phoebe thought about all she had found when sorting through Savannah’s affairs. And then she shrugged. It didn’t really matter, so she told him.

  “Well, after I was around, I started to take a closer look at things. Her papers, bills. I wasn’t snooping, at least not at first. She needed someone to handle all of that stuff.”

  “Of course,” Chase nodded in encouragement.

  “I should have stepped in a lot sooner.”

  “Really?”

  “Savannah was pretty good at making money, but sucked at holding onto it. She managed to spend just about all of hers.”

  “What did you do?”

  Phoebe laughed at the memory. Savannah had been in bed then, in and out of it, the cancer moving quickly through her body. Phoebe had been so angry with her, she had wanted an explanation, but in the end, she had chickened out. Or didn’t want to hear the truth.

  “I realized that there wasn’t much to be done about it. But at least she left me one thing.”

  “I’m sorry,” Chase said. “I know it’s probably not what you expected, the house I mean.”

  Phoebe almost felt the sting of tears against her eyes. How had he known what to say?

  “Sorry.” Phoebe dashed a quick hand against her eyes and then took a deep breath. “I’m not usually like this. I can’t talk about them, my parents and Savannah, without breaking down in tears.”

  “My parents died in a car crash,” she said to his unspoken question, “a long time ago.”

  “Were they actors too?”

  “Yes. Well, my dad was a director and my mom, an actress. Their careers were just starting to take off when they died. My mom didn’t really have any family, so that left Savannah.”

  “It sounds tough, being alone like that,” he said, his dark blue eyes holding hers. Once again, she was hyperaware of everything around them.

  Phoebe took a deep breath, determined to move away from her own story. “OK, so that’s me. What about you?”

  “Me? Well, let’s see. I grew up in Queensbay, close to the water, with my parents and my brother. They’re retired now and live in Florida. My brother’s still around the area, but travels a lot, so we don’t get to hang out much.

  “Sounds nice, normal.”

  “Pretty normal,” he said with an easy smile, and Phoebe knew he was waiting for her to ask him what he did.

  “I learned to sail right here. Spent some time as a sail bum and then came home to take over the family business. We sell boat stuff to boat people.”

  “Perfect job for a guy like you.”

  Chase smiled. “What can I say, I’m a simple guy.”

  “I don’t buy that for a second,” Phoebe said.

  Chase gave a shrug as if to say “no biggie,” but Phoebe thought there was a lot more behind those last words than he was letting on. Maybe she had misjudged him earlier. And it made him undeniably sexier.

  “So you said you were working. Are you or aren’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” Phoebe said.

  “You said you were, then weren’t…which is it, working or not?”

  Phoebe stared down into her drink. Exactly the territory she didn’t want to veer into right now.

  “I’m taking a break. To think things over.”

  “What sort of things?” he pressed.

  “You know, what to do with my life now that I am well and truly on my own.”

  Phoebe didn’t know why she told him. Perhaps it was the two glasses of wine, or the calamari, which she hadn’t touched, so intent had she been on their conversation.

  “Well, as you saw, when I was in The Garden Cottage, I’ve been designing my own things, housewares.”

  “What are housewares, exactly? Plates?” Phoebe felt her eyes narrow as she looked him over carefully. A trace of a smile ghosted across his lips.

  “Plates, pillows, curtains, sheets…”

  “Sheets?” The full lips definitely curved up. “I like sheets. Better than plates,” Chase said, his voice dipping low, along with his head as he almost breathed the suggestion into her ear.

  Phoebe forced herself to take a sip of the cool wine. Never had talking about sheets affected her in quite this way, she thought. Somehow, just that one word carried a whole lot of weight to it.

  She squared her shoulders one more time, this time quickly and with enough force that Chase’s arm fell off the back of her chair. Feeling the weight lifted freed her, and she let a small smile of triumph grace her features.

  “So you design things and, what, sell them?” He had taken her flinging his arm off the chair as a challenge because he had moved in even closer so that a
ll she could smell was him. Nothing else but his clean scent, a combination of something spicy and fresh, almost windblown.

  Phoebe smiled. “That would be the point.”

  “You know my boat has beds, except we call them bunks…” he trailed off as he looked at her face.

  Phoebe flushed. Chase was so close to her, almost as if they were the only two people in the whole bar. Everything about him oozed sex and suggestion, and she knew that if she let herself, she would be swept up into him, let his big, strong hands pull her towards him, let them roam over her. Thoughts of just where that might lead had her coming to her senses. He was someone who wanted something from her, no matter how rakish his grin or how much she wanted to kiss him.

  With every ounce of self-control she could muster, she pushed her wine glass away from her. “This, whatever this is, is over.” She was off the bar chair in a flash, only stopping to say something to Paulie, the bartender.

  “We’re finished here. You can just add it to my room tab.”

  With that gesture, and hoping Chase didn’t take it upon himself to order a steak dinner, Phoebe stalked up to her room, fumbled with her key, and got herself in. She half-expected Chase to follow her, but when he didn’t, she was torn between being relieved and disappointed. Still, she made sure the door was double-locked as she threw herself down on the bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, willing her body to calm down.

  Why was her heart racing? When she closed her eyes, why could she only see his face, close up, dark, intense eyes, searching into her? God, she had pretty much bared her soul to him after one glass of wine. She could talk about her family, but she almost never did, and certainly not with some guy she had just met.

  She rolled over and pulled out the card Chase had given her from his purse. She almost snorted.

  Slowly, as the wine settled in her stomach and her heart slowed, she thought that perhaps Chase Sanders, as the president of a major sporting goods company, really had been talking about the bunks in his boat and actual sheets for them. Perhaps she had just blown a chance for a design deal with a major catalog.

  Sighing, Phoebe rolled over and reached for the drawer in the bedside table where she had stashed a candy bar. Chocolate, caramel, nuts, nougat. It had all the important food groups and would count for dinner, since there was no way she was going down to the dining room again and risk running into Chase Sanders.

  Chapter 15

  It took Chase another beer before he worked out just why Phoebe had walked out on him. When he did, he hooted in laughter and slapped the bar top so hard Paulie looked over at him. Chase waved him away and continued to eat his steak. Phoebe Ryan had thought he was coming on to her, not trying to make a business proposition. And she’d been offended.

  An interesting reaction, Chase thought, as he speared a piece of asparagus. The steak, potatoes, and asparagus were decent here, but not the best. Since he’d bought out his dad’s share of the marina last year, he’d focused on upgrading the docks and was only just now turning his attention to the hotel and restaurant. It might be time this place got a little spiffed up.

  Still, he wasn’t used to women saying no to him. For the most part, when he beckoned, even if it was with a crook of his finger, they came running. True, most of them hadn’t engaged his interest for long, and none of them had half the mystique of Phoebe Ryan, who seemed to have inherited her grandmother’s trick of appearing both aloof and alluring at the same time.

  He speared a thick-cut steak fry as he watched the home-team batter knock out a home run. Phoebe Ryan had another thing coming if she thought she could get rid of him so easily. Chase wanted her talent, and now, dammit, if he didn’t want Phoebe Ryan along with it.

  Chapter 16

  “You’re making some good progress.”

  Lynn Masters appeared in the front hallway of Ivy House, startling Phoebe, who jumped and then turned. She smiled when she saw who it was. Lynn was wearing scrubs again, and Phoebe wondered if she ever took them off.

  Phoebe wiped a hand across her forehead, drawing away some of the sweat that had accumulated. It was surprisingly warm for spring and she was feeling her exertion in the way her clothes were sticking to her, damp with sweat.

  “Thanks.” Phoebe looked around. She had made good progress. All of the big stuff was in the driveway, waiting for a rubbish removal company to come and haul it all away. She had scrubbed, swept, and mopped most of the first floor.

  “This room isn’t so bad.” Lynn pointed at the large space that Phoebe had decided would be the living room.

  “I think if I redo the floors and paint, we’re golden. The kitchen is another story, but I’m having a new fridge delivered in a couple of days. In the meantime, I have some iced tea on ice. Want some?”

  Lynn nodded and Phoebe led her towards the kitchen. Here, she had already cleaned, and as much as possible, the space gleamed. Phoebe had hit the village supermarket, which was geared towards boaters, and had purchased a Styrofoam cooler, ice, drinks, a sandwich, and some snacks. Paper plates, cups, napkins, and plastic utensils were set out on the wooden table that she had decided to keep. Already, she was imagining the kitchen painted a warm cream, with new curtains, new appliances, and the cracked linoleum removed to reveal something wonderful, like the wide-board wood flooring beneath.

  “I found this on my mom’s bookshelf.” Lynn thumped something on the table and Phoebe looked over from where she was pouring.

  “I haven’t seen that in ages,” Phoebe said, glancing at the cover of the book Lynn had brought. It was Savannah’s autobiography.

  “I would have thought you had an autographed copy.” Lynn said, taking the paper cup Phoebe handed her.

  “No way. The critics panned it and it wasn’t exactly a best seller. I am not sure they ever printed that many to begin with. I think it was just another flop that Savannah decided to ignore.

  “Oh, well, my mom loved it. Read it over and over again. As if you couldn’t tell.”

  “Really?” Phoebe took her paper cup and pulled out the other chair, sitting across from Lynn. “What for?”

  “The good parts.” Lynn dropped her voice. “Full disclosure. I went through a Savannah Ryan phase too—I mean my mom made me watch all the movies, so I actually read the book too and wow. That’s all I’ve got to say.”

  “You mean she talked about that?” Phoebe dropped her voice too. Suddenly the thought of her grandmother doing that was grossing her out.

  “Well, not in detail. But I could read between the lines. That’s probably why she didn’t want you to read it. It seemed like she bedded half of Hollywood before she took on the East Coast blue bloods.”

  Phoebe reached across the table and pulled the book towards her. As Lynn had promised, it was dog-eared and worn, the paper cover faded. She looked at the face of her grandmother staring up at her from the cover. It had been a long time since Savannah Ryan had looked like that.

  “You really do look a bit like her, you know,” Lynn said.

  Phoebe looked up and almost pushed the book away. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I have more of my mom in me.” She tried to keep her voice casual. Red-blond hair, blue eyes, the same sort of cheekbones. Sure, there were similarities, but Savannah Ryan had been breathtaking, with emerald-green eyes and a voluptuous figure, a true crowd-stopping beauty. She had been every inch a movie star.

  “Besides, looks aren’t everything. They didn’t exactly guarantee her happiness,” Phoebe pointed out. Her grandmother had died alone, leaving behind a string of lovers, but no one besides Phoebe to share her love with. When all you had were looks, it was hard to deal well with the passage of time.

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind being compared to her every now and then.” Lynn laughed, a full, hearty laugh that echoed through the relative emptiness of the house.

  “Like when she played Helen in that movie about Troy?” Phoebe asked.

  “Or when she was the gangster bad girl. Now that was hot.”

  Phoe
be smiled and though she wasn’t sure why she said it, she did. “I have the jacket.”

  “You mean the leather one with the buckles.” Lynn’s eyes went round and she reached out and gripped Phoebe’s hand.

  “Please?”

  Phoebe laughed. “It’s in storage, but I promise, as soon as I can, I’ll get it. You can try it on and play cops and robbers.”

  “You’re amazing. That would be so cool. And to show you how grateful I am, how about you come over later and we can hang out? My parents are heading out for the weekend and we’d have the house to ourselves. You can stay in the spare bedroom, check out of the hotel? I mean, I don’t think you’re quite ready to move in here, even with my futon.”

  “A slumber party?” Phoebe asked, laughing.

  “Come on, you’re never too old for them. Trust me, it will be fun. My mom will even leave something for us to eat.”

  “Deal.” Mrs. Masters really was a great cook.

  Phoebe flipped to the center section of the book where there were photographs on thick paper. She leafed through them until she found the ones she was looking for. Savannah and Leland Harper. Phoebe scrutinized the pictures carefully. Now that she knew what to look for, she could see Chase in Leland. Leland had been a good deal older than Chase was now when he had married Savannah, but still you could see physical similarities, in the height, the dark hair, and the strong cheekbones, between the two men.

  “So, I had drinks with Chase last night,” Phoebe said, trying to keep her voice casual.

  Lynn looked up, her eyes narrowing. “Just drinks?”

  “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  Lynn shrugged. “I don’t know. When I last saw the two of you, I found it hard to believe that you could sit down and have anything as civilized as a drink with him. Though there’s not many around here who wouldn’t have a drink with him. He’s kind of a local celebrity.”

  “Celebrity?” Phoebe asked.

  “Yeah, I mean for Queensbay. He’s some sort of champion sailor in Europe. Grew up here, sailing with Noah Randall.”