The Ivy House - By Drea Stein Page 0,21

they had been able to part as friends.

“Dean,” she said carefully since she didn’t want anything to change between them. She looked out at the water because she found the view, the sky blue with only a few wisps of milky white clouds, and the surface of the harbor cobalt, flecked by the tiniest of white caps, calming.

“I know, I know. You’re on a leave of absence from your life. I get it, but let me know if you get bored and want to come back. CallieSue is busy terrorizing someone else and I’m pretty sure she has forgotten about you. I wouldn’t be lying if I told you I already have some other opportunities brewing for you. Maybe another movie set, a big-name director. It can be just like old times.”

Phoebe smiled wanly into the phone. That was the problem. She hadn’t been happy with old times and always working on someone else’s vision, and Savannah’s death had only brought that into focus.

Sensing her hesitation, he hurried on. “Well, whatever it is, I’m here for you, Phoebs. You know that, right?”

Phoebe took a moment to picture Dean’s face. He was fair, blond, with green eyes and high, sculpted cheekbones. He was a good-looking man, gym-fit, with a nervous energy and driven ambition. She had seen him be both charming, with clients, and ruthless, when it came to winning a deal.

“I know that.” Phoebe closed her eyes.

All the time they had known each other, they had never managed to both be single at the same time, so the question of getting together had never come up. But now it was out there. Dean was a great guy and, unlike Garrett and a string of others she had dated, didn’t need anything from her. But she wasn’t sure that was enough.

After a few more words of support from Dean, she clicked off and leaned back again, closing her eyes, trying to soothe her troubles away. Could three-thousand miles really change her life? There was little for her in California. To focus on taking care of Savannah, she had even given up her apartment, putting most of her things in storage, and ever since she’d sold Savannah’s house, she’d been couch surfing. She had no house, no job, and perhaps no future.

Savannah’s words came unbidden to her: We make our own destinies. If anyone could truly believe a saying like that, it would have been Savannah, who’d been sublime at reinventing herself. From the girl next door to an ingénue to a stately matron, Savannah had played every role and then some.

Phoebe took a deep breath. Perhaps she was where she was supposed to be. She was free. For once in her life, she had no ties. She had money in the bank and a roof over her head. Count your blessings, Savannah’s voice whispered to Phoebe and she laughed.

Phoebe checked the email on her phone. There was only one email from a reporter asking for a comment on the state of Savannah’s affairs. She ignored it. It would be better if that story died out.

Right now, she needed to focus on her legacy and her future.

Chapter 11

The fall line was bothering him. Or it wasn’t, which was part of the problem. It was boring. North Coast Outfitters was growing fast and that was good, but perhaps there were only so many ways to make a raincoat look sexy.

Chase slowed his steps as he headed up Main Street towards The Dory. They had the best chocolate-chip cookies in town, and he had promised his staff that he would spring for a box of them at the next meeting. It was too nice a day to be cooped up inside, and he had welcomed the chance to walk up towards the restaurant. But it wasn’t the smell of cookies that had him slowing down.

It was the sight of her. He hadn’t seen Phoebe in a few days, ever since she had literally run into him in the lobby of the hotel, though he’d done his best to keep an eye out for her. Short of walking up to Ivy House, where she had made it clear he wasn’t welcome, he hadn’t quite figured out a way to run into her again.

But his luck, as it usually did, was holding. He could see her, but only from behind, through the large plate glass window of The Garden Cottage, Queensbay’s furniture and knickknack shop. Joan Altieri, who owned the place, was a friend of his