The Ivy House - By Drea Stein Page 0,29

wanting the house. He doesn’t want to tear it down as part of some sort of revenge fantasy against Savannah?”

Lynn shook her head. “No, but there is someone who benefits if you sell this place. More so if she has an eager buyer who thinks you might need a ridiculous offer to be persuaded to part with it?”

Phoebe almost smiled too. “Ahh, a little negotiating ploy by the real estate agent.” The sun was setting, sending soft rays of light out along the water. The harbor was calm, almost glasslike, which seemed to happen often at dusk. It was quiet and peaceful, and soon the lights in the houses sitting on the bluffs would start to wink on. Most of the boats were safely back in port for the night, and the only real sound was the gentle bell tolling on one of the channel markers.

“Well, both of them will be very sorry. I’m certainly not going to be tearing this place down.” Phoebe turned to look at the house behind her. She had taken Lynn up on her offer of the futon. By tomorrow night, she would have moved in enough at Ivy House to give up her room at the Osprey Arms.

“And what about Chase Sanders?” Lynn asked, taking a sip of her wine, her brown eyes twinkling above the rim.

“What about him?” Phoebe tried to forget the way his blue eyes had flashed at her, raising her body heat through the roof. “I think Queensbay is big enough for the two of us. And if I don’t intend to tear the house down, I don’t suppose the natives, including those old biddies, will have anything to complain about, will they?”

“Not likely,” Lynn said, and Phoebe decided to ignore the doubt she heard in her voice.

Chapter 13

Chase sat in the meeting, listening to the bickering going on between the creative director, his PR director, Tory, and assorted staff. It was one of the few things he hated about running a company. Decision by committee. As North Coast Outfitters had grown, he hadn’t been able to keep a finger in every pie. Too many locations, too many moving parts. He’d had to do what he did best—be a captain and manage his crew. But right now, his crew was getting on his nerves, and he wished he could make them walk the plank, metaphorically speaking, that is.

The windows of the conference room had a good view of town. He’d been able to watch Phoebe make her way off the docks and head up the road back, he presumed, to Ivy House. She had been angry and had been yelling at him, her eyes bright, the color high in her cheeks. Phoebe had looked lovely and he had wanted to kiss her. There, he had admitted it.

But his meetings with her never quite played out the way he thought. He’d offended her at the first, had her angry at the second, almost won her back at the third, and now she was all riled up again. So what if he was Leland Harper’s grandson. The man, except for passing on some DNA, had been a blip on the screen as far as his family was concerned. At least the ones now. He knew Grandmother had never quite forgiven Savannah for stealing her husband. But that was history.

Now they tossed the story around like it was a joke, a legend, history, but of the more colorful sort. Every family had some of that, right?

Chase shook his head. He’d made the offer on Ivy House because his mother had called, saying what a shame it would be if the new owner, an out-of-towner, came and tore down a local landmark. And then Joan Altieri had clucked over the same thing, and before he knew it, Mrs. Sampson, the head of the Queensbay Historical Commission, had ambushed him on his way to get coffee and said the same thing. And then Sandy Miller, real estate agent extraordinaire, had swooped in and told him, for a price, he could have the best view in town.

So much for a done deal. Phoebe Ryan was having none of him.

He sighed and turned his attention to the pictures in front of him.

“The preview emails received a dismal click-through rate,” Tory was saying. “I just don’t think anyone was very excited about the new designs.”

“I know, I know.” His creative director looked annoyed. “Look, this is the first time we’ve ever attempted to branch out beyond our core