The Ivy House

chapter 34

Chase stayed the night. He had offered to go back to his apartment, but Phoebe had simply thrown him a look and pulled him towards her. She didn’t want him to go, liking the warmth and strength of him. He didn’t seem to mind, wrapping himself around her.

It was the weekend and they stayed together the whole time. He helped her move things from the shed into the house and watched as she rearranged. They went shopping for groceries, making themselves pasta. He lamented the lack of a TV, but she made it worth his while.

Monday morning came around and Chase had to go back to work. She sent him away with a bang and the house felt strangely empty without him, but she was ready to start getting to work. She had a contract to fulfill after all. There were also some phone calls and emails from Dean asking her when she was coming back. There were emails from her workshop asking if they should purchase more materials to keep up with the new orders. Her landlord was asking if she wanted out of her lease since he had another interested party.

While she had spent the last couple of weeks in a sexual fog precipitated by Chase, life was going on around her. Decisions needed to be made, decisions that had nothing to do with Chase Sanders and more about how she wanted to live her life. Did she want to run her business from Los Angeles? Her whole life had been there. She had never meant to make her stop in Queensbay permanent, had she? There was nothing to say that she and Chase couldn’t keep their relationship going, for a while at least, cross-country. And besides, as Chase said, they were just riding this thing out, seeing where it took them.

So what to do? Phoebe sat in the room at the back of the house, her own little studio. In Los Angeles, she’d never had this much space and it was glorious to be able to walk, to pace, to think as she worked. She had seen pictures of it in the photo album. It had been fitted out like a country gentleman’s study, with leather-bound books and dark wood. Now it was white, with gleaming floors and a row of windows that looked out over the backyard and the harbor. Phoebe had come to love this room and her ability to watch the light as it moved over the water.

Her new desk had come, and she and Chase had assembled it, laughing as they tried to figure out the instructions. It was huge, with plenty of room to spread out, and she sat at it now, letting her mind wander, just drawing. When she was done, she looked at what she had created: a pattern of concentric rings in bright pop-art colors. She smiled and pulled her laptop towards her. Ivy Lane was doing well, the mention of her restoring the house driving a lot of traffic to the site.

Things were starting to take off for her and it was time to get really serious. Perhaps, it was time to give Caitlyn Randall a call. She was, by all accounts, a financial advisor and a whiz with money.

The days passed. Both she and Chase were busy with work, including a quick business trip down to Florida for Chase. He was gone only a few days, but when he arrived, he had sauntered in, taking her to bed almost immediately. Then, he was gone until the weekend. The weather was beautiful and they took another sail, threw steaks on the grill, and shared a bottle of wine with Lynn and her parents.

Weeks went by and she and Chase slipped into a pattern. He would stay with her all weekend and then head down to work. They spent most of their time together at Ivy House, but she went to his apartment once, above the Osprey Arms.

“Why do you live here?” she asked. Room service had delivered some fried calamari, and they were eating it on the small balcony attached to his suite.

“I like to keep an eye on things,” he said, dropping his eyes as he squeezed lemon on his plate.

“Eye on what? Surely, you get to see enough boats during the day from your office. You have a water view there.”

He said nothing and slowly she put it together. “You own this. The marina, the hotel?”

“Yes. I own it. I have a manager, but it’s a part of my holdings.”

“So you’re building up quite the little empire,” she said. It made sense how the bartender had called him “boss” and the way her hotel bill had been suspiciously low.

“Sort of. I’m not bad at organizing things, figuring out how to give customers what they want, whether it’s a new piece of foul-weather gear or a great place to bring their families for a summer cruise or to a hotel with a great view.”

“Are you partners with Noah?”

Chase shook his head. “On some of the things. I was one of his first investors when he started his company. Then, over the years, I leveraged that to invest in some other things. Sometimes Noah joins in, sometimes my brother does, sometimes I do it alone. My brother, Jackson, he’s working in New York now, but he comes out on weekends in the summer to sail and hang out. Hopefully you’ll meet him?”

The question hung in the air. They hadn’t talked much about the future and Phoebe didn’t know if she wanted to.

“That would be nice,” she said absently. She took a sip of wine as someone blew a foghorn, a signal for the launch to come pick them up.

“Do you always treat your investments like this?”

“Like what?” he asked.

“Wine and dine them?”

“Sometimes, I go out for business dinners,” he said carefully, his fork hovering in midair. “I take a personal interest in all of my affairs.”

“Affairs?” Phoebe didn’t know why she was pushing. Everything was going well. She had been designing like mad, and Chase’s own house design team was a dream to work with. He’d even sent Tory over to redo her website and now the orders were coming in, several a day. But her work for the collection was almost done. In another week or so, there would be no real reason to stay in Queensbay.

“I meant business affairs. In the most traditional sense,” he said, humor lighting up his eyes.

She had begun to think that she could build her business from anywhere. She’d been ducking Dean’s calls, knowing that if she told him what she was thinking, he would try anything to convince her to come back to Los Angeles. He’d been calling and texting almost daily since she had mentioned the deal with Chase.

She was starting to build a life on her own terms, but she wanted to be more than an investment to Chase, something he would hand off to be managed when she had fulfilled her end of the deal. So far, he’d given no indication that it was anything but smooth sailing, but then again, he hadn’t asked lately if she were planning on staying or going.

“You’re not jealous I discovered that new sweater designer in England, are you? I like her stuff, but I told you, she’s an old salt dog, almost fifty, with a Scotsman for a husband. I feel like he’s going to run me through with his bagpipes if I even so much as look at his wife.”

Phoebe laughed. When Chase had told her that he was going to England for a few days, she had wondered what she would do if all his designers were given the same treatment as her. They had never talked about the status of their relationship as easily as they had slipped into it. She realized that she had just assumed Chase was a one-woman-at-a-time type of guy, but she had no proof.

“Hey, that’s not jealousy I see, is it? Imagine, the fair-haired California babe being worried about some lady who knits sweaters in the dark and cold.”

“Well, when you put it that way, but surely there must be others. You seem to have quite a stable of talent you’re developing.”

Chase shrugged, but his eyes were serious. “That’s part of what makes North Coast Outfitters successful. Luxury and high-quality goods you can’t get everywhere. It takes time and attention to do that.”

“I know,” Phoebe said. She felt restless. They were supposed to be meeting up with Noah and Caitlyn to listen to some live music at Augie’s—Lynn, too, if she got done with her rounds—but there was something that was making her edgy.

“You don’t think I’m stepping out on you, do you?” Chase asked, his voice low.

“No. I don’t know.” She was standing by the railing now, looking over at the bustle of the harbor below. The sun was starting to set and boats were streaming in to get settled for the night, couples were walking about arm in arm and kids raced up and down, playing or enjoying ice cream. It was a happy scene, full of life and Phoebe glanced up. Ivy House was just visible, its tall tower poking up among the trees that were now fully covered in their summer coats. Even from here, she could see that the house needed painting, one of those big-ticket items she had decided to put off. Still, it was there, a landmark, looking down over charming Queensbay, watching the town, protecting it.

Did she want to be part of this life? She could work from anywhere, she knew that, whether it was Queensbay or Los Angeles or some other place she’d never been to. But would she want to stay in Queensbay, in Ivy House, if Chase wasn’t part of her life? She looked over at him. He was sitting there, his big frame at ease in the comfortable chair.

“Phoebe, I haven’t been with anyone else since I met you…since before I met you and, more importantly, I haven’t thought about anyone else. I know my PR department has tried to paint a different picture of me, but like I told you, that was just for show.”

“Was?”

“Every sailor needs to find a home port,” Chase said. He held out a hand and she took it, and he pulled her onto his lap, cradling her there.

He didn’t say it, she noticed. He didn’t say the words that she wanted to hear. Only promised her that he was being faithful for now. Phoebe swallowed hard and leaned her head into his shirt, feeling the steady beating rhythm of his heart. She had her answer. She was in love with Chase Sanders, a man who saw her as another one of his business investments. Savannah had warned her about giving her heart away too freely. But she hadn’t ever, not to Dean, not to anyone. Chase had her, if he wanted her, but he’d never said he wanted the same things from her, from life, as she did.

“Are you OK?” he whispered into her hair. All of a sudden, she felt sick, her heart pounding, her stomach churning.

“No, you know, I think maybe I better sit this night out.”

“What?” He pulled away from her, searching her face.

“No big deal, I’ll just walk back to the house. You go, I know you were looking forward to seeing the band. So don’t change your plans on account of me.”

“But, let me drive you at least.”

Phoebe shook her head, resolute. “No, I think the fresh air would be good.”

“I’ll walk you home. Do you want anything, soup or something? You barely ate anything.”

“No, I’ll be fine. You’ll be late if you walk me home and, besides, if I don’t feel better, I know a doctor or two.”

She gave him no more time to think, but was already opening the sliding door into his living room, finding her purse, slipping into her shoes. He trailed after her, clearly puzzled, one hand running through his hair.

“Are you sure?”

She leaned over, gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I just need some sleep, some rest. Listen, I don’t want to get you or especially Caitlyn sick.”

“I’ll call you later.” His voice trailed down the hallway after her as she moved quickly to the stairs, intent on getting out of there as quickly as possible.

The rest of the hotel passed in a blur and she emerged onto the sidewalk, breathing the fresh air, feeling the thudding of her heart in her ears. She was in love with a man who wasn’t capable of it. How could she have let this happen?