The Ivy House

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 a part of it.”

Lynn closed her eyes, “Oh, yes, now I remember. Wasn’t she the fallen lady with the heart of gold?”

“Something like that. So, I guess the black bra was an integral part of the costume.”

“You know, sewing up knife wounds may not seem that glamorous, but at the end of the day, I’m glad I don’t have to sit around in my underwear in front of a million people,” Lynn said.

Phoebe shook her head. “Never seemed to faze Savannah. And she could pick up any object in her apartment and tell you what movie it was from, who her costar was, whether it was a hit or a flop.”

They were quiet for another minute, before Lynn asked her.

“Are you going to tell me about it or make me use my imagination?”

Phoebe groaned. “Was it that obvious?”

Lynn nodded. “Absolutely. If I hadn’t fallen asleep so early last night, I would have gotten it out of you then. So…”

Phoebe couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her face. “It was pretty unbelievable.” Just the memory had a smile flooding across her face and heat spreading across her body.

“Wow. And you let him walk off last night? You didn’t go back for seconds.”

“I think it would have been thirds. Or fourths,” Phoebe said, failing to keep the smugness out of her voice.

“Argh, you’re killing me. Not really. Keep talking, just because I work crazy hours and barely have time for a shower, let alone a date. I need my vicarious thrills.”

“Like I said, it was pretty unbelievable. But somehow I don’t think your mom was too keen on me slipping away with him for a night of steamy sex on his boat.”

Lynn rolled her eyes. “Yeah, moms can be like that, even when they’re not your own.” As if realizing what she said, Lynn’s face contorted. “Man, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t be complaining about my mom…”

“…when I don’t have one,” Phoebe finished for her lightly, trying to put Lynn back at ease. “Don’t worry about saying the wrong thing. You shouldn’t be sorry for having a mother, even though she sometimes annoys you, just because I don’t. That’s life.”

“Wow, you sound so serene about it,” Lynn said.

Phoebe laughed. “Therapy. I had a lot of it after they died. And then one day, I realized I had to keep on living and so did other people. And it’s sort of nice to know someone’s looking after me. I think it probably kept me from making a mistake.”

Lynn snorted. “What sort of mistake is Chase Sanders?”

Phoebe didn’t know what to say. Sex with Chase had rocked her world. It had never been like that with anyone else, the physical sensations. But there was more. More to him and to the sex. She was afraid she was getting entangled.

“It’s funny,” Phoebe said. “All my life, guys have been into me because I was related to Savannah Ryan. Struggling actors, wannabe playwrights, even my old boss—they all thought there was something more to me because I was related to someone famous.”

Lynn sat on an old steamer trunk. “OK, so I get it. You had your own weird version of groupies. But what does that have to do with Chase?”

Phoebe looked at her and there it was like a sucker-punch in the gut as she said it aloud. “I think Chase might be the same way.”

“What do you mean? He doesn’t seem that way.”

“Associating with the Ryan name would be great for his business. I told him I didn’t want Savannah’s name mentioned, at least until everyone can judge my work for what it is, but I know he thinks I’m being foolish. I don’t think he can resist the allure of the romance of the century—the modern-day version—at least from a marketing perspective.”

Lynn looked at her, so Phoebe pulled out her phone.

“My friend sent this to me,” she said, as she called up the headline. “Déjà vu—Ryan Revives Famous Love Nest.” It’s short on details, but it talks about how I inherited the house and am intent on bringing it back to its former glory. It goes into Leland and Savannah.”

Lynn took the phone from Phoebe and scanned through the article. “So?” she asked.

Phoebe took her phone back and glanced at the article. “It might only be a matter of time before someone makes the connection between this house and the fact that Leland Harper’s grandson lives in this town. And then it will be romance of the century, part two.”

“And you think that’s a bad thing?” Lynn asked.

Phoebe shook her head. “It would be if Chase was behind it. I told him that I didn’t want to be known as Savannah Ryan’s granddaughter anymore. I have to stand on my own two feet, on my own talent.”

“Surely you don’t think?” Lynn asked.

Phoebe shrugged. She hadn’t had a chance to ask. And besides, Chase had promised he wouldn’t, but perhaps he couldn’t be trusted.

“For what it’s worth, it totally seems like he’s into you,” Lynn said carefully, taking a sip from her water bottle.

Phoebe leaned back against a box. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She looked at the picture again. She wondered how the press had gotten onto her efforts to restore Ivy House? And would this be the last of it? The story did mention Ivy Lane’s website. She’d already seen a jump in orders today. Perhaps, it would be good for business to play up this angle.

Lynn shook her head. “I don’t know, but I think the way he keeps showing up here, finding you at the flea market, buying all of that stuff…I think he wants to be with you. Phoebe Ryan—you—not anyone else.”

Phoebe wanted to believe her friend, she really did.