The Ivy House

chapter 39

“I saw Chase,” Lynn said as she opened another box. Phoebe’s things had started to arrive from California and Lynn was helping her unpack. “He stopped by the clinic; we had a thank you ceremony for all the sponsors.”

It had been almost a week since the story broke and she had been hounded by calls from reporters. She had refused them all, even unplugging her phone and letting everything on her cell go to voicemail. Besides, she’d been too busy trying to fill all the new orders that were coming in. The story had been good for business, just as Chase had said it would be.

Phoebe stiffened and then said nonchalantly, “He was one of the sponsors, so it was nice of him to come.”

Lynn looked at her in the fading light. “I don’t think he was there to check up on his donation.”

Phoebe shrugged, trying to show that she didn’t care. Why, then, did she want to cry all of a sudden?

“I think you should talk to him.”

“What?”

“He looked upset.”

Phoebe snorted. “He’s upset because his little ploy backfired. He knew…” Phoebe stopped herself.

“Look, I know you think he was using you because of Savannah and maybe that’s how it started, but I don’t think that’s the way it is. You didn’t see the look on his face.”

Phoebe swallowed.

“Lynn, I just can’t. I don’t think I can trust him again.”

Lynn was about to say something else, but there was a knock on the door. Phoebe looked up, her heart jumping.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Lynn asked. Phoebe shook her head tightly, but she knew, even as she walked to the door, that Chase wouldn’t have knocked.

“Dean.”

“Phoebe, there you are.” Standing on her porch was Dean Grant.

“Dean.” She gave him a hug, feeling a small surge of pleasure. All of a sudden, it felt nice to see an old friend.

Dean gave her his typical European greeting, a kiss on each cheek, before holding her at arm’s length.

“The salt air seems to agree with you,” Dean said. He was impeccably dressed, as always, in a light jacket, matching trousers, a robin’s-egg blue shirt, with a paisley pocket square that complemented everything.

Phoebe was glad that the dusk hid her flush. She knew that Dean was lying. If anything, the recent turmoil with Chase had left her with some sleepless nights.

“Dean, this is my friend Lynn Masters.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Dean said politely, but all his attention was on Phoebe.

“You haven’t returned any of my phone calls. And…” he lowered his voice, with a glance at Lynn, “I need to speak with you.”

Phoebe sighed. She didn’t know if Dean was being dramatic, but she hadn’t returned his phone calls either, which, he supposed, was why she needed to be tracked down.

“OK,” Phoebe said. Dean hesitated.

“You know what, why don’t I just clean up this stuff for you,” Lynn said. “You two can just run along.”

Dean flashed a smile of perfectly white teeth. “An excellent idea. How about dinner, Phoebe? There’s this cute little place up the road, the Osprey Arms? Do you know it?”

Did she ever, but Phoebe just nodded. She wasn’t exactly dressed for dinner, but it was Dean and not a date, so she supposed that in a few minutes, she could make herself presentable.

Dean had waited for her patiently at the house while she cleaned herself up, and then they walked down to the Osprey Arms together. For a moment she panicked, but then calmed down. She was pretty certain she wouldn’t run into Chase because he mostly ate in his room. And so what if she did?

“So, Chase Sanders?” Dean looked at her over his scotch, his gaze unreadable.

Phoebe didn’t really want to talk about her involvement with Chase, so she took a sip of her wine instead.

“Last I heard, you thought the man was the devil incarnate,” Dean pointed out, but his voice didn’t hold any bit of lightness.

“Things change,” Phoebe hedged.

“They do. I leave you alone for a couple of weeks, and I find you’re reliving the romance of the century. In every way?”

Phoebe decided to ignore that question. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, but there was no use denying the fact that there was something downright date-like about the corner table and the low lights of the Osprey Arms’ formal dining room.

Phoebe smiled at that. “It’s like you said: the fresh air, springtime. It does something to a girl.”

“Well, I hope that your designing is going well?”

“I’ve been working on some designs,” Phoebe hedged.

“You know, I’ve been talking with CallieSue. She’s very intrigued now…” Dean said.

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? I told you I wasn’t interested in working with her.” Phoebe felt her blood began to heat. CallieSue had probably gotten “intrigued” with her as soon as all the press hit. She wasn’t some no-name designer now. She was a bit of a celebrity herself.

“Just a moment.” Dean held up a calming hand.

“I don’t think CallieSue has developed a better sense of style in the last couple of weeks.” The waiter arrived with their first course: a salad for her and soup for Dean.

He took a look at the bowl, sniffed and shrugged, as if resigned to indifferent food since he was outside of a city.

“Not bad,” he proclaimed, and she had to wait as he had added a pinch of pepper and had another spoonful. In the meantime, she pushed the leaves of lettuce around her plate as she waited for Dean to get to the point.

“Be that as it may, I think she’s more inclined to listen to your ideas now.” Dean stopped and put his hand out and covered hers. She was surprised by his gesture.

“Phoebe, I care about you. You know that I have only ever had your best interests at heart.”

“What are you talking about?” Phoebe felt her heart race a bit in her chest.

“Well, it’s not just CallieSue who is interested.”

Something in Phoebe stirred. She knew that this was why Dean was here. He had something bigger to tell her.

Dean smiled, as if reading her mind. “Listen, I know you must miss your life in Los Angeles and here’s the perfect chance. You won’t have to ride the Savannah coattails—you’ll be your own woman. I know how important that is to you; I realize that now.”

Phoebe was flabbergasted. “Dean, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Really, it’s just the truth,” Dean said with a smile, his spoon hovering over his soup.

“So who is it?” Phoebe said, even more overwhelmed. It was more than she could have hoped for, more than she should have expected.

Dean leaned in and whispered the name. Phoebe looked at him, aware that her mouth had dropped.

“But that’s huge…she’s already…she goes by one name.”

Dean smiled, enjoying her reaction.

“Why me?” Phoebe managed to whisper.

“Why?” Dean threw back his head and laughed. “Because you’re talented.” His hand reached across the table and touched hers. She fought the urge to pull it back from him, and his smile was more than just a smile, seductive almost. “How many times have I told you that?”

“All the time.” Phoebe managed to remove her hand and dropped it into her lap. Her heart was beating fast. “So, back to Los Angeles?” It was a tremendous opportunity, one she would have killed for even just a few weeks ago.

“Yes. She’s based there, so she would definitely expect you to be there, plus she’s going on tour in a month, and I think you can expect a fair amount of traveling as well, so you two can continue to work together.” Dean scraped up the last bit of soup and looked at her.

“Oh, you’re worried about, what, the house here. I am sure you could get a good price for it. It’s a waterfront property, right? Or I suppose you could keep it as a vacation retreat, fly back a couple of times a year.”

Phoebe thought longingly of her dark-stained floors, newly finished and gleaming, a rug thrown casually over them, just begging to welcome some furniture, and Ivy House, begging to welcome happiness and life back into it.

“Only a couple of times a year?” Phoebe asked.

“Well, of course. Look, it’s a big job, and I need to know that you’re all in with me on this before I go back to her. It would mean a lot of money, prestige. You could do anything you want. Maybe a TV show and certainly a full line of housewares sold at a major store. The sky’s the limit. Already, the press is buzzing about the possibility.”

“Dean, that’s so generous of you.” Phoebe was at a loss for words, for not only had she thought of Ivy House but also had a fleeting thought of Chase. If she went back to Los Angeles, would she see him again? Would he miss her as much as she would miss him?

Savannah’s words came ringing back to her: Never rearrange your life for a man…

Smiling, Phoebe reached out and took Dean’s hand. “You’ll let me think on it for a few days?”

Dean smiled and brought her hand to his mouth for a quick friendly kiss. “I knew you’d come around.”