The Ivy House - By Drea Stein Page 0,2

had decided keep in good repair, the beach access, because here and there were pieces of new wood on the stairwell. This was what Sandy had meant when she said it was a million-dollar view.

Carefully, she made her way down to the beach, stopping when she got to the bottom. The shore was a mix of sand and rock, and there was a large driftwood log pulled up around what looked like the remains of a fire. She sat on the log and breathed in, the smell of the charred wood assailing her senses.

The sun was getting warm and she needed to think, figure out what to do next. The water, the sand, and the sun were working their magic. Already, less than a day out of the city and she felt calm, rested. The sadness of Savannah’s death, the stress of dealing with her estate, and that big looming question—What do I do now?—seemed to fade away. Phoebe took a deep breath, her grandmother’s words coming back to her: Enjoy the moment. All that mattered was that it was sunny and she was enjoying the view.

She tried not to think about the wreck that was looming, both figuratively and literally, above her head. Ivy House was a disaster. It would take a small fortune to fix it up, that much was clear, and Phoebe didn’t know if she had it in her. Either physically or financially.

The agent had already dropped hints. Despite its decrepit condition, it would attract some serious buyer interest. Just because of its “historical significance.” Phoebe had almost burst out laughing at that one. A torrid love affair wasn’t exactly world peace. Savannah and Leland had been more infamous than famous, but that still didn’t stop legions of people from obsessing over them. All the more now since they were both dead.

But Phoebe was a Hollywood girl. She knew that the public’s obsession with the life of movie stars was never quite rational. Any little thing, be it a prop or a costume piece, could be fought over by a serious collector. And now, if now, the chance to own the actual house that had been the love nest for the “Romance of the Century” became available, Phoebe knew she’d have more offers on her hands than she could handle.

Phoebe was still taking it in. She had thought that Savannah had sold the house years ago after Leland’s death. Instead, she had kept it, renting it out year after year. Despite the fact that Savannah could have used the money, she had not sold the house. She had left it, mostly intact, for Phoebe. What had Savannah been thinking, leaving Phoebe with a wreck of a house three-thousand miles away from her home?

I’ll just have to figure it out as I go, Phoebe thought to herself, her natural optimism returning as she trekked back up the steps. There was always a way to salvage a disaster.

Chapter 3

That was strange. Phoebe was sure she had closed the back door to the house behind her, but here it was, open again. Tamping down a wave of panic, since this was charming Queensbay and not the big city after all, Phoebe pushed open the door a little wider. It was probably one of the former tenants, maybe with an extra key, coming back for something they left behind. Hadn’t she seen an old stuffed animal—a teddy bear or maybe a bunny rabbit—in one of the rooms upstairs? Couldn’t leave Floppy behind now, could you?

“Hello,” she called. Her first attempt was weak, so she cleared her throat and called out again, “Hello, is someone there?”

She heard the floorboard creaking and looking up at the ceiling, she could see the floor sag as feet made their way across.

“You don’t look like you’re from the electric company,” she said, keeping close to the door just in case.

Feet, shod in Converse sneakers, and legs, in jeans, emerged down the steps, followed by a large brass belt buckle, a blue windbreaker, and finally, a head.

Phoebe watched as the man crystallized into view. A pair of sunglasses, aviator-style, hung in the v of the t-shirt that poked up through the collar of his jacket. The man loomed, Phoebe thought, as he reached the bottom step and casually supported himself by putting one hand on the wall, the other crooked at his side.

“Lovely place you’ve got here,” he said in a smooth voice that sent shivers shooting through her, despite the sarcasm.

He was taller than Phoebe

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