The Ivy House - By Drea Stein Page 0,68
help themselves. Phoebe was the first whose arm he’d had to practically twist to take his help. And she was making it difficult by not allowing him to use her connection to Savannah. Still, he could understand her desire to make it on her own.
Chase tossed the covers off and got out of bed. He wasn’t going to sleep anyway. Pulling on a pair of jeans, he walked into the living room and threw himself on the couch, where he could look out and see the water. The lights of the marina were dimmed now, and boats bobbed peacefully in their slips. It was calm, quiet, and well ordered, and when he had come here as a kid to work in his dad’s store, he had dreamed of this. Of looking over it all and wanting it, wanting it to be his. And now he had it. But it just wasn’t enough anymore.
He scrubbed his hands through his hair. It was almost morning: time for him to get up, maybe take a run, work out some of these kinks.
Truth was, it wasn’t enough anymore because he wanted something more. Sure, he thought it had been the house, but once he had seen her, all of a sudden, it had been her. He wanted Phoebe Ryan, in his bed, but now he wasn’t ready to let her go.
As the sun rose, its rosy fingers painting streaks in the gray dawn sky, he smiled. He had a plan. Every good sailor needed a course, a strategy to get from A to B, to win the race. And if there was one thing he was good at, it was taking his time and working a plan.
Chapter 31
“Sorry about dinner last night,” Lynn said, shaking her head. “Would you believe me if I told you it was Caitlyn’s idea?”
Phoebe pushed the coffee table out of the way and kicked the rug so that it unspooled across the sheen of her newly refinished floor.
“Really? I hadn’t guessed.”
Lynn scowled at her sarcasm. “Yes, she wanted to get to know you a little better. And get you and Chase to help out with the fair. She’s great, but a little relentless when it comes to making things happen. Not that I’m not grateful, since the clinic needs every penny it can get, but, well, I wouldn’t want to say no to her.”
“Glad I didn’t,” Phoebe said, and she was. She was happy to help.
“Nice rug,” Lynn said, “but I don’t know why you want to put all the furniture down when you still have to paint.”
“Not all the furniture.” Phoebe pushed back a strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. “Just enough so I can live here and move out of your spare bedroom. Besides, it’s good to live in a house for a while before deciding on the paint. You need to see how the light plays in the room.”
Lynn laughed. “Well, when I finally move out of my parents’ house and into my own place, promise me you’ll give me some decorating advice. I spend all of my time in baby-blue scrubs and around vomit-green walls. I’ll need all the help I can get.”
“Color is easy,” Phoebe said absently, her mind drifting.
“I don’t suppose you found any lost treasures up in the attic?”
“I’ve barely had time to go through it.” Phoebe had been busy working on the designs for North Coast Outfitters and handling the existing orders for business.
“There’s no time like the present.” Lynn jumped up.
“What are you talking about?”
“Please, I’m totally dying for a chance to poke around Savannah’s old stuff.”
Phoebe hesitated for a moment. It was her stuff to poke through if she wanted. She’d been avoiding it, unsure if she was ready for what she was going to find. Phoebe took one look at the expression on her friend’s face. It was so eager.
“Get ready for some dust,” she warned her as they made their way up the stairs and to the attic.
“Wow, Savannah really was a packrat,” Lynn said, as she moved a stack of old clippings aside. “Look, a bra.” Lynn held up a black lacy number.
“Ugh. That must have been from a movie. I don’t think she would have kept it otherwise.”
“Yeah, but which one? There’s nothing in here that says which one.”
Phoebe walked over, looked at the bra, then looked at the stack of clippings. “See, these are all reviews of The Black Orchid. It was a throwback to film noir. The bra was probably