The Ivy House - By Drea Stein Page 0,19

the woman had and, now, no other celebrity would touch her. Dean, CallieSue’s agent and a friend of Phoebe’s, was trying to smooth things over, but she was pretty sure that it was a long shot.

“Then what were those sketches I saw you working on?” Lynn asked.

Phoebe hesitated. She had, in between consulting gigs, been working on her own designs, her own lines. It had been sort of a sideline, the pillows, but the designs had started to take off around Los Angeles. Someone she knew, an interior designer, had used a few in a client’s home, and that home had made it into a style magazine and Phoebe had gotten credit. She had a website, of course, and before she knew it, people were trying to order pillows from it.

So far, Phoebe had done everything through phone and email, but now that she had no other commitments, she was thinking that perhaps it was time to get serious about it, about her own line of home goods. Still, the decision was so new that it felt weird talking about it out loud. But if there was one person who would certainly not judge her, it was Lynn.But if anyone was certain not to judge her, it was Lynn.

“No, I’ve been working on a business idea. I think I was getting tired of coming up with all these great ideas and having other people take the credit for it. Quitting my job, taking care of Savannah, coming here—it all feels like maybe it’s a part of a journey, some journey to find what I really want to do with my life.” Phoebe stopped.

“Well, Queensbay is about as small and real as it gets. Not that we don’t have our little society here. There’s the Garden Club and the Yacht Club—Friday night barbeques, not to be missed…” Lynn gave a laugh. The guy in the fleece, joined by a friend in a ball cap, was edging closer.

“I guess it wouldn’t be such a bad place to try and blend in,” Phoebe said, twirling the stem of her oversized margarita glass. She realized that she was really considering the thought. Sure, Ivy House needed work to make it fit for habitation, but not that much. After the renovation, she could keep working on it while living there and running her business.

“You totally could. It would be great. And in the summer, the place really picks up. Plenty of guys with absolutely no ambition of becoming actors. You could go incognito.”

Augie’s was filling up, the energy rising. Phoebe could feel the tequila in the margarita starting to loosen her up. It would be nice to be somewhere. Put down roots, start over, far away from the too-bright sun of Los Angeles. Savannah had always said Ivy House was magical. Maybe it just needed a little love to bring the magic back.

“I could do it,” Phoebe said, emboldened by the liquor. “I can fix up Ivy House and live there. Why not? I’m twenty-eight years old, I have some money in the bank. I don’t have to be anywhere I don’t want to be.”

Lynn threw her head back and laughed. “You go girl.”

They clinked their glasses. “And here’s to dating people who have no idea who we are,” Lynn said.

“Here, here. No real names and no real professions tonight!” Phoebe agreed, already feeling the smile starting to curve up her lips.

Chapter 10

Phoebe woke up with a throbbing headache, cursing the curtains that had been left open. Sunlight, bright and harsh, streamed into her room. The margaritas. She and Lynn had had more than a few, and then they had walked back to the Osprey Arms, after collecting more than a few phone numbers, all of which they had dumped in the trash can. Lynn had crashed on the couch in Phoebe’s room, and sometime in the morning, while Phoebe was still sleeping, had left to get ready for work.

She’d left a note, scrawled on the pad from the desk: “Take two and call me later. Lynn.” A packet of headache medicine was on top of the note, and Phoebe decided that she must have just been subjected to some sort of doctor humor.

She had dreamed of Ivy House last night. It had been a full, richly layered dream, startlingly vivid to her, fueled no doubt by the alcohol. But it had seemed so real, and in it, Ivy House had been perfect. Gleaming wood floors, comfortable couches, color, and light. And there had been