The Ivy House - By Drea Stein Page 0,10
Chase and his brother Jackson had scraped together everything they had, and Noah had given them a bunch of papers in return.
And then his dad had gotten sick, and with his brother still in college, Chase had to come home. The family business had needed help and Chase assumed the helm. He’d discovered that the papers that Noah had given him meant he was a part owner of Noah’s company and that had been all he needed, besides his own winnings, to take the family’s boating supply store, North Coast Outfitters, and grow it into an upscale catalog, a chain of stores, and a website catering to the yachting crowd. The success and the hard work it had taken left him with no regrets about giving up his racing career. Sure, a chance at the America’s Cup was probably out of the question now, but he had a good life, and his father, while not in perfect health, was doing OK.
Chase had his own membership at the Queensbay Yacht Club, a forty-foot sloop in a slip at the marina, which he now owned to boot, and he was the hometown boy made good. There was just one thing missing to make his dream complete.
“Thank you. Caitlyn’s been down with morning sickness for the past three months, but she says it’s easing up. Either that or she can’t stand being cooped up anymore. Watch out, I’m sure she’s planning some sort of party soon.” Noah ran a hand through his hair.
Chase had nothing to say for a moment, lost again in thoughts of Phoebe and her downright refusal to sell the house to him. Well, she hadn’t been subjected to a full-on campaign of his persuasive powers yet, had she?
“Hey there, Earth to Chase.” Noah was looking at him curiously. “OK, from what I can see, your business is doing great, so that means that something else must be bothering you. If it’s not a lady, what is it?”
Chase grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s the house. Ivy House. Would you believe it that Savannah Ryan owned it all these years and left it to her granddaughter?”
Noah shook his head. “I don’t get why you’re so fascinated with that house. You would think the fact that your grandfather once shacked up there with a movie star would make it off-limits for you.”
“Very funny. That’s history. And who cares about that?” Chase pointed out. It had been a scandal over fifty years ago, and because of its tragic ending, it still got dragged up now and then on some entertainment shows. “That house, with the tower, the gables, and the view…Do you know how often these waterfront properties come up for sale? And with that size lot? I’ve wanted it ever since I could remember.”
“OK,” Noah said, nodding, playing along, “So you said the owner is Savannah Ryan? I thought she sold the place years ago.”
Chase shook his head. “Guess not. That’s why all of my offers must have gotten rejected. I guess she didn’t have any kind feelings towards the family. But she’s dead, and now someone new owns it.”
“You know if you want to tear down the house, the Historical Commission is going to have a fit,” Noah told him.
“Well, that won’t be a problem since the new owner swears she isn’t selling.” Chase didn’t defend the house. He had no intention of tearing it down, but he didn’t want to seem too sentimental. Truth was, after poking around there a bit today, he realized that Ivy House wasn’t so bad. Of course, it wasn’t as big as some of the newer bluff homes, but it was big enough, with its distinctive tower and widow’s walk. And it was perched high above the harbor, a guardian overlooking the town and the marina. And he had always loved it, imagined himself owning it from the days when he’d been looking up at it from the water below. Ivy House had been a commanding presence in his life even before he realized the family connection.
“Weren’t the last tenants pretty rough on it?” Noah said.
Chase nodded. “Yup, and the new owner, Savannah’s granddaughter, is from California. No way she’s going to commit to fixing this place up, not if she wants to get back home anytime soon. Or, worse yet, I bet she wants to build some modern box-type thing with a thousand windows.”
Chase focused on one of the photos he’d hung in his office. North Coast Outfitters had grown