The Ivy House (A Queensbay Novel) (19 page)

Phoebe was daydreaming. Or thinking. She had started out the day productively enough, working on designs, but it was too lovely a day to be inside. So, she had wandered out to putter in the backyard and plant some of the annuals she had bought in her new flower pots.

She sat on the stone step of the terrace, with the view of the harbor spread out below her, the sky a cloudless blue. Everything was peaceful, but her mind was whirling with the offer Dean had made her. After Savannah had died, it seemed like the last thing she wanted to do: go back and work for someone else. But now, here was an opportunity to work with a huge name, an international presence. A collaboration, Dean had said, with her name linked. Even more so than her North Coast Outfitters deal, it would jumpstart her business.

She had told Dean she had a contract with Chase, and Dean had only smiled. “I am sure we can arrange something mutually satisfactory to both parties to get you free and clear. And back on a plane to Los Angeles. She wants to get started pronto.”

Phoebe knew she needed to speak to Chase directly. See if he even cared that she would be backing out of their deal. At this point, he probably wouldn’t, would he? His phone calls and texts had started to tail off.

Well, she had been the one to tell him to go, so she had no one to thank but herself. The gossip pages hadn’t slowed down one bit, and she was pretty sure that a photographer was stalking her. Instead, the papers kept going over Leland and Savannah’s affair and marriage, and drawing parallels to her and Chase.

Well, she had known what she was getting into, right? Chase had all but told her that he was a player. That this was a no-strings-attached, heated affair, a giving into feelings—of lust—which they couldn’t ignore. But somewhere along the line, it had changed for her. Love. She wasn’t a lust type of girl. Sure, just the thought of Chase’s wolfish smile, deep-blue eyes, and dark tousled hair made her knees weak and panties wet, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to keep her going. She wanted a life, a real life, with someone she loved and who loved her.

Maybe it didn’t have to be the house and white picket fence—goodness knows, Los Angeles wouldn’t be that. But perhaps it meant that she could find someone who wanted the same things she did: a committed relationship, a family. And what had Chase told her?
Let’s just have a good time babe and see where it takes us
.

Well, it had taken her too far. She couldn’t sleep in her bed without being woken up by thoughts of Chase and memories of how they had been together. A hot flash of desire and loss seared through her, and she closed her eyes to clear out the memories. Maybe she needed a fresh start. Coming back to the past, to the place where she thought love lived, maybe she was kidding herself. It was just a house, not a piece of magic. She couldn’t get her parents back and maybe she couldn’t be happy here without Chase. Already too many bad memories.

Footsteps crunching on the gravel path shook her out of her melancholy thoughts.

“When were you going to tell me?” Chase came upon her suddenly. Phoebe reared back. She had been planting primroses in the empty planters that flanked the steps of the stone terrace.

“Tell you what?”

“Your new deal.” Chase tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but he saw her flinch.

“How did you…”

“You don’t think I read the business papers, the websites. Everyone’s all abuzz that the brilliant Phoebe Ryan is designing a collection with Serena, the hottest international pop and movie star. I thought you were over that, Phoebe. I thought you had committed to your own designs.”

He pulled out his phone and showed her. Phoebe gasped. She had had no idea. There was a picture of her and Dean having dinner at the Osprey Arms, drinking champagne and the headline, “Phoebe Ryan makes a new conquest.” She couldn’t bear to read the rest.

“It’s not…”

Chase cut across her. “I understand. You’re a California girl, right. You can take the girl out of Hollywood, but you can’t take the Hollywood out of the girl. You’re putting your career first. Just like Savannah. I suppose this was a fun little game for you while you and your gentleman friend cooked up a way to make a big story out of it.”

Now she rose up, truly angry. “You’re the one who told me it was no strings attached. You’re the one who said, ‘Hey, babe, let’s enjoy the moment’. And if I recall, it was your PR director who cooked up the ‘Romance of the Century, Part Two’ story. You’re the one who said our relationship was good for business.”

Chase froze, his own words thrown back at him. “I…”

“Look, I gave you your designs and you can use them however you want. You’ve already made sure the world knows exactly who I am, so feel free to say whatever you have to sell more of them. Our business deal has run its course.”

“It wasn’t about the deal…” Chase said. She could see him fighting to keep calm and she felt her wall coming up, the one she retreated behind when she needed to avoid hurt.

“What was I supposed to do, Chase? You made it clear that you were just in it for a good time. I need to think about my career. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Chase ran his hands through his hair. “I thought this…” and he gestured all around him, “meant something to you. What about your own designs, your work for North Coast Outfitters? Us?”

“It’s just a house. A house that needs a lot of work. I need to keep moving forward.”

“And going with him is that?” Chase asked, his voice quiet, his face hard.

“This opportunity isn’t about that,” Phoebe corrected him. It wasn’t about Dean.

“Well, then.” Chase looked at her, his eyes dark and hooded. “I guess I’ll wish you good luck.” She could hear his voice catch, but he pushed through.

Phoebe felt her eyes glitter with sudden tears, but she stood firm, quiet.

“Thank you. I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

Chase laughed bitterly and swallowed, giving her one long last look before he turned and walked away.

Phoebe watched him, not knowing if she had made the worst mistake of her life. How had it come to this? She knew that if he just turned around once, she would be undone; she would go to him, pull him to her, and beg him to forgive her, to take her right there, take whatever she had to offer. Even if it was a lust-only, no-strings-attached kind of a deal.

Phoebe just sat on the rough stone step, the cold seeping through her jeans and into her body. The sun was setting and still she sat, letting the world go dark around her. That’s how she felt about her whole world. It hadn’t been ideal, how Chase had found out about Dean’s offer, but he hadn’t even let her discuss it with him, let her see how it might all work out. Because there was nothing left to work out. She thought what they had meant something. But then he had thrown it all in her face. What did she think that Playboy of the Month, Chase Sanders, was going to settle down with her in a small house overlooking the water and watch while she sewed pillows? That he would ever want to settle down, make a home, make a family? And with her, of all people?

What had she been thinking? That she could undo Savannah’s mistakes? That somehow the Savannah–Leland history could be rewritten? It never would have worked out, she told herself. But if that were the case, then why did she feel like this? She’d made no final decision. She’d only be toying with the idea of going back to Los Angeles.

Truth was that she hadn’t felt the kind of peace she’d felt in Queensbay in a long time. Ivy House had been a magical place to her and it still was. How could she leave it? But what choice did she have?

Phoebe let her eyes travel over the sweeping expanse of the harbor, down its broad length, across the darkening shadows of its hills. The water had steeped into her, even in such a short time. It had allowed her to find her creativity again, to find her playfulness, to find more purpose. Or had it all been Chase? He’d never made any promises to her. In fact, he had been more than upfront about what he had wanted from her.

“Phoebe? Are you OK?” Lynn’s voice called out, and she could hear footsteps coming around the path.

Phoebe looked at her and wiped her face.

“What happened?” Lynn came to her, a stethoscope still around her neck, in her scrubs with cartoon characters.

“The bastard, what did he do?” She wrapped her arms around Phoebe and hugged her close.

“It’s over,” Phoebe managed to say before letting the tears come.

“Don’t you have someplace better to be?” Noah looked at him. Chase had wandered back to Noah’s house and was now in the barn, sipping a beer as he watched his friend sand down the bubbled varnish on the little skiff.

“Work was a little slow,” Chase said and shrugged when he caught Noah’s disbelieving stare.

“I’m the president of a multimillion-dollar company, and I can take the afternoon off and visit an old friend when I want to.”

“Did you just call me old?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Chase scrubbed his hands through his hair. He hadn’t been able to sleep or think straight since his last conversation with Phoebe. It had gone even worse than the one before that. And she had thrown his words back in his face.

“Do you think I’m afraid of commitment?” he asked.

Noah looked startled and then he said carefully, “I think that in the past, you’ve been the type of guy who was offered a lot of options and hadn’t felt that any of them were right at the time.”

“You make it sound like a business deal,” Chase said.

“You look like hell,” Noah said affably. Chase knew he should have been irritated, but it was hard to ignore the truth.

“It’s Phoebe.”

Noah paused his sanding to take a swig of his own beer. “Thought it might be. What did you do this time?”

“Why do you think it was me?” Chase said. “Maybe it was her.”

Noah just looked at him.

“What?”

“Seems to me that she’s the kind of girl who wants someone who’s all in,” Noah said after a moment.

“What do you mean, ‘all in’?”

“Well, seems to me that she’s fixing up that house, trying to put down roots, and she wants to share it with someone—but really share it with someone. Not just a stranger passing through the night warming her sheets. Only thing casual about her is her decorating sense.”

“So, she’s looking for someone to be all in?” Chase still wasn’t sure what Noah was talking about.

“She’s looking for a commitment. Maybe it’s marriage, maybe it’s not. Never can tell these days, but she’s in love with you.”

“How do you know?”

“Let’s just say I know how it feels to be in love with someone and not be sure how they feel about you. And to tell you the truth, you have the same look about you.”

“But she’s ready to close up everything here and move to Los Angeles, and she didn’t even tell me. She doesn’t want me. She’s putting her career ahead of me.”

“Did you ever give her any reason not to?” Noah said. “Didn’t she get mad at you about the newspaper articles first? Did you ever give her any reason not to think that you weren’t just using her for your business?”

“She knows I would never do that,” Chase said sharply.

Noah shook his head. “Does she?”

“But why would she go back to him?” Chase was sure that it was this Dean Grant who was pushing her to go back to Los Angeles.

“Well, at least she’s getting something in return from him, right? What were you offering her? Or, more importantly, did you ever tell her what you were offering her? Remember, my friend: men and women speak different languages. You think you’re showing her how you feel, but she wants to hear it.”

“That’s it? That’s your great advice?” Chase was angry. “We’re great together. How could she not know?”

Noah shook his head. “See, different languages. You’re showing her when you need to come out and tell her. All in, my friend, all in.”

Chase thought about that. It was true. She’d never really said that she wanted to go back to California—just that it was a great opportunity. And he never asked her to stay. Or worse yet, he never asked her if she wanted to make it work. He had just assumed that she would be willing to take whatever he gave her.

“She wants me. All of me,” Chase said with some amazement. Women had wanted him before, but they had usually wanted his money or his lifestyle or some combination of both. In return, they had been willing to warm his bed, but not one of them had really wanted all of him. They had wanted to catch him.

“I think you’re finally getting it. I don’t think she bought into any of this romance-of-the-century stuff you cooked up.”

“I didn’t cook it up,” Chase began, but then stopped. He certainly hadn’t prevented it, figuring it was good for both of them. But she hadn’t wanted any of that either.

“I mean, do you think that stuff is true? This whole crazy love thing? Savannah and Leland…that wasn’t love, was it? It was just self-destructive lust, right?”

Noah smiled, a dreamy one, as he sanded down the wood on the boat. “Love takes many different forms, my friend, and when it comes to you, you shouldn’t fight it. Always seemed to me like your grandfather and Savannah Ryan were all in.”

Chase stood there glowering as he thought about it.

Noah laughed and continued with his sanding as he asked, “So, what are you going to do?”

“Phoebe Ryan?” Phoebe answered her phone, only half paying attention. She was thinking of packing, trying to sort through the things she might want to take with her and the things that could go into storage. She had already contacted the real estate agent about the possibility of renting Ivy House out again and someone at an auction house about making a full catalog of Savannah’s stuff. The money could go to charity, Phoebe thought.

“This is Robin Smyth from
Hot Style.
” Phoebe perked up.
Hot Style
was one of her favorite reads, filled with all sorts of up-and-coming designers and products.

“I wanted to discuss featuring your line of pillows and accessories in an upcoming issue and on our website and TV segments. Your work recently came to our attention, and I think it would be a great fit in our next issue.”

Phoebe stopped what she was doing, trying to breathe. “You want to feature me?”

“Yes, we just love your stuff. Plus, I heard you’re restoring an old house. And that it belonged to Savannah Ryan. Listen, I was such a huge fan and was so sad when I heard your grandmother passed away. I just think that since you do such great stuff and if we can tie it in with her work, well, then it would be like the artistic torch is being passed from one generation to the next—even if the medium is different. What do you say, are you interested?”

Phoebe smiled and she could almost hear Savannah’s raspy voice saying, “You finally got your big break.”

“I don’t suppose this has anything to do with all the rumors going around now, does it?”

There was a pause. “Well, to tell you the truth, I got a call from at least four other designers who told me that they just had meetings with Serena about working on a collection together.”

“Oh,” Phoebe said.

“I guess her agent and manager are really shopping around. I am sure it would be a great opportunity for you, but I really like your stuff, even without someone else’s name attached to it.” Robin emphasized the word “your,” and Phoebe felt her heart beat a little faster.

“Plus, I am a sucker for cute little Victorian house with water views.”

Phoebe laughed. “Apparently, I am too. So, no matter what happens with the Serena deal, you want to feature me?”

She could hear Robin shuffling some papers. “Yes. And between you and me,” she said, dropping her voice, “I hear she’s a total nightmare to work with. And a total attention hog. Listen, it’s your business, but something similar happened with her clothing line. She went to ten different design teams before she found one that she stuck with, and they have a total non-disclosure agreement. They can’t tell anyone who they work for. And worse yet, they can’t put out anything of their own.”

Phoebe let that all sink in.

“Great. Now,” Robin continued, “I’m not promising anything, but many of the new designers and companies we feature, they see quite a jump in their business. Are you prepared to handle that?”

Phoebe looked around the study and her big workspace. Her sketches were spread out on it. She had been sorting through them, deciding whether any of them were worth keeping. There was a decision to be made here.

“I’m ready to handle it,” Phoebe said.

<<>>

Lynn had come over with a bottle of champagne when she heard the news. “I am so excited for you.”

Phoebe was nervous, but she could feel the adrenaline and the champagne kicking in. Excitement. Purpose. There was a chance that nothing would come of it, but she had to be true to herself.

“I think, maybe, I’m being manipulated.” She told Lynn what she had learned from Robin Smyth.

“I don’t think Chase would do that,” Lynn began.

Phoebe shook her head. She had done a little more research after getting off the phone and realized that Robin had been right. Supposedly, Serena was not known for sharing credit for design ideas. And once Phoebe had looked a little more closely at the press release about her collaboration with Serena, she saw that the language was intentionally vague about how committed Serena was to Phoebe.

“Not Chase.”

It took Lynn only a moment to put it together. “Oh, you think Dean is trying to get you away from here and Chase. I knew he was the villain.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes at Lynn’s dramatics. “Not a villain. Just being pretty aggressive in pursuing me. I think he’s doing what an agent does, spinning the media to make the situation work to his advantage.”

“So, you’re not going to get me backstage passes to a Serena concert?”

Phoebe shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. I still know a few people. But I don’t think I’m going to be working with her. It’s my life, my terms this time.”

“This means that you’re not leaving?” Lynn’s face broke into a smile.

“No, I’m not leaving,” Phoebe assured her, knowing in that moment that she really did belong here, that she wanted to be here, to give this a real try.

“I’m glad. I would’ve missed you,” Lynn said, and, impulsively, Phoebe hugged her.

“This means more margarita nights at Augie’s.”

“I can handle it if you can,” Lynn said.

Phoebe took a sip of her champagne, savoring the bubbles. She would need to tell Dean her official decision. But not now. For now, she just wanted to savor the moment.

“Imagine, a major magazine wants to do an article on me…” Phoebe said, feeling her toes tingling.

“So cool. And you don’t care that they’re going to mention Savannah?” Lynn asked.

Phoebe shook her head. She had thought about this too. “It finally feels right. Like the editor said, an artistic torch being passed from one generation to the next. I think Savannah would have been proud. And happy.”

“Have you told anyone else?”

“I haven’t talked to Dean yet.” Phoebe shook her head. She wanted to keep him out of this opportunity.

“That’s not who I meant,” Lynn countered.

Phoebe turned to face her. “It doesn’t matter if I stay or go. Chase and I want different things. I want to settle down and, well, I don’t think he’s the type.”

“Did you ever tell him that’s what you wanted?” Lynn said, taking a sip of her champagne.

They had nearly polished off the bottle of champagne and were digging into a bag of potato chips when Phoebe got the text.

“Ugh, it’s Dean. He wants to see me. I guess he wants his answer.”

“Can’t you text him back?” Lynn suggested, licking the salt off a chip before eating it.

“No. I think a part of him wants to make sure I’m back in Los Angeles. Unless I can explain it to his face that I plan on turning down this amazing opportunity and why, he’ll think I’m delusional.

“Are you rational?” Lynn asked, gesturing to the half-empty bottle of champagne.

“I poured you more,” Phoebe said with a snicker.

“Ahh, no wonder I feel all floaty and wonderful. I’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone. Have you got a TV yet?”

Laughing, Phoebe tossed her the remote. She texted Dean back and ran upstairs, changing into a sundress and a pair of high-heeled sandals. Using her sunglasses as a headband, she fluffed her hair, grabbed her bag, and was ready.