The Ivy House

chapter 9

She tried to push away the thought of Chase Sanders laughing at her as she spent the day at Ivy House, starting to make a plan of what needed to be done. She looked down at one point at her to-do lists and saw that she had drawn his face. And not just once, but several times. She had drawn him once with his eyebrow quirked up, another one with the beginnings of a smirk, and finally one that focused on his shoulders. She sighed and drew bad-guy, villain-type mustaches on all of them, hoping it would get the thought of him out of her mind.

Halfway through the day, her creative energy had taken a turn, and Phoebe abandoned the plans and the numbered lists, grabbing her sketchpad and drawing, designs coming easily to her. She felt that her creative energy was sapped while she was trying to care for Savannah, and she had given up designing everything after the incident with CallieSue Owens. But now, on Ivy House’s stone terrace, with the light breeze ruffling her hair and the gentle lap of the waves in the background, she felt absorbed, and a plan, one that included the house and her dream, began to take shape.

Phoebe had been so caught up, she’d looked up in surprise when Lynn found her, sitting on the low stone wall, sketching the way the setting sun purpled the sky. It was just a way to capture the colors around her, the way everything seemed so bright and vibrant.

“Ready for dinner?” Lynn had asked cheerfully, and Phoebe realized she was. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and the idea of a home-cooked meal was definitely appealing. Gathering all her stuff, she shoved it into her bag, jumped up and stretched.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” she asked Lynn as they both looked over the bluff and toward the water.

Lynn sighed. “No, not really. I know that I’ll have to move out soon and I’ll miss it, but maybe someday I’ll find my way back here.”

Phoebe had lived close to an ocean all her life, but there was something soothing and calm about this harbor, the way the bluffs were like arms encircling you in a hug, the simple beauty of lights twinkling in the windows of the houses that ringed the shore. It was comforting, she decided, as she and Lynn walked through a break in the privet hedge that separated the houses.

Phoebe was welcomed into the Masters’ home as if she’d grown up there. As promised, Mrs. Masters, who was a doctor as well, was an excellent cook. She was also a huge Savannah fan. Mrs. Masters was just as open and friendly as Lynn and the pasta fra diavolo was so good that Phoebe decided she didn’t mind supplying all the information Mrs. Masters was after.

Lynn’s father, also a doctor and chief of the local hospital, drifted off to watch a baseball game right around the time Phoebe started to give details about Savannah’s eating habits. It was after the mixed-berry pie à la mode that Lynn had to put a stop to all of her mom’s questioning and declared that she and Phoebe were going out on their own.

“These margaritas are delicious,” Phoebe said, taking a sip. She and Lynn were down in the village at a place called Augie’s. It was different from the Osprey Arms, with a younger, more fun crowd. There were a few families finishing up their dinner, but mostly it was couples and singles, groups of people at tables, some people milling about by a pool table. There was even a jukebox; someone popped in a new song, and people were starting to dance.

“It feels so good to get out,” Lynn said, her dark hair curling around her delicate face. They were leaned up against the bar, so she was swaying to the music and sipping her drink.

“It must be tough, all the hours you put in,” Phoebe said, also feeling herself starting to sway to the music. It was a nice atmosphere, totally low-key, but fun, and even though she was stuffed from Mrs. Masters’ meal, she was eyeing the potato skins someone had ordered a few chairs down.

“Well, at least there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. One more year and I’ll be a real doctor. I am so excited. It’s been a long slog. College, medical school, then residency. But it will all be worth it,” Lynn said. Phoebe thought she detected a note of wistfulness in Lynn’s voice.

“What do you think you want to do?” Phoebe asked. She had known a few doctors in Los Angeles, mostly plastic surgeons or dermatologists. Not bad people, but they were always working an angle once they found out who she was, trying to see if Savannah would be interested in endorsing them. One guy had even gone so far as to promise Phoebe some “free work” if she could get Savannah to recommend him.

“Well, my dad knows a few people who would be happy to bring me into their practice. Or I could get a job at the hospital. Since he’s the chief of staff there, it might be a little weird though, you know, like everyone would think I only got the job because of him.”

Phoebe shook her head. “In Los Angeles, it’s all about who you know. No one would think twice of using any connection they could to get ahead. My last boyfriend was an actor.” She thought briefly of Garrett and the way photographers had always seemed to be around when they went on dates. “And it turned out he was all about my connection to Savannah.”

“Sounds like you were burned by someone.” Lynn looked at her. “Come on, spill. If you tell me about yours, I will tell you about mine. Can’t be worse than someone who got turned on by ‘playing doctor.’”

“Dumped me about a week after Savannah’s funeral.”

“What?” Lynn said, her voice disbelieving. “That creep. What reason did he give you?”

“It was him, not me, you know. The same old stuff. I realized I had just about outlived my usefulness, especially since he had just gotten cast on a new show. And I had this rule: no dating actors. I thought I had learned my lesson, but Garrett was so charming, I just couldn’t resist.”

Lynn’s nose crinkled. “Do you mean Garrett McGraw, the one who’s going to be on the new medical show?”

Phoebe looked at her glass. It was almost empty. There was a group of guys, late twenties, early thirties, casually dressed. One of them tried to catch their eye. Phoebe sent a quick smile and then turned to Lynn. Somehow, a blond cutie in a fleece wasn’t doing it for her tonight, not when she had spent the afternoon drawing pictures of a dark haired, blue-eyed lurker.

Phoebe shook her head. “He’s the one. I thought he was different. We actually went to high school together and, believe you me, he was not that cute back then. So when he showed up looking all yummy and delicious, fresh off that other show, I thought I was being the shallow one, you know, giving him a second chance.”

“But let me guess, he was just using you?” Lynn said, her eyes wide and knowing.

“He wanted to impress Savannah. Turns out, he wanted her to make a few phone calls to some producers, which I guess she did. She never could resist a cute face. Or tight abs. And before I know it, he goes from having a few bit parts in a TV show to being cast as the charming yet deep doctor on the most anticipated show of the season, ‘Mercy.’” Phoebe shook her head and looked into her drink. She had managed to finish her entire margarita.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, real doctors hate those shows. Everything’s always so dramatic and over-the-top. And trust me, none of us look that good in scrubs,” Lynn said.

“Thanks, but I don’t think that makes me feel better.”

“So did you ever act?” Lynn asked.

“No way. Not for me. Let’s just say I am definitely a behind-the-scenes girl. I worked as a set designer for a while and then as a graphic designer and then a designer. Pillows, fabrics, and things. I have my own company, but I mainly do consulting work.”

“Would I have bought any of your stuff?” Lynn asked, and Phoebe could tell she was curious.

“Sort of,” Phoebe answered.

“Sounds like another story.”

Phoebe sighed. Not even tequila could make this story better. “I told a client that she had the taste of a hillbilly.”

“A client?” Lynn was puzzled.

“I was hired by a certain celebrity, one with her own cooking show, to help her develop a line of dinnerware. She and I had different ideas on what things should look like,” Phoebe said simply. The taste of that defeat was still far more bitter than what had happened with Garrett. She had gotten what she asked for when she dated an actor. But the breakup of her professional relationship had come out of left field.

It had hurt when CallieSue Owens hadn’t bowed to Phoebe’s far superior design sensibilities. And that manufacturing company, the one paying Phoebe’s fee, had chosen CallieSue’s white-trash design sensibilities over her own.

“You don’t mean CallieSue…” Lynn started to guess.

“Shh. No one is supposed to know she’s not designing it herself. But yeah, I mixed it up with a gal from Texas and guess what?”

“What?” Lynn asked.

“You really don’t want to mess with Texas,” Phoebe said.

Lynn hooted with laughter. The blond guy in the fleece was starting to make his way over to them, and Phoebe decided she didn’t care if he came over or not. Perhaps a preppy guy in fleece was just what she needed to block the thoughts of Chase out of her mind.

“Did you get another job?” Lynn asked.

“No, not at the moment. I am clientless.” Phoebe only hesitated for a moment. CallieSue Owens had made sure of that. Phoebe had underestimated the amount of pull the woman had and, now, no other celebrity would touch her. Dean, CallieSue’s agent and a friend of Phoebe’s, was trying to smooth things over, but she was pretty sure that it was a long shot.

“Then what were those sketches I saw you working on?” Lynn asked.

Phoebe hesitated. She had, in between consulting gigs, been working on her own designs, her own lines. It had been sort of a sideline, the pillows, but the designs had started to take off around Los Angeles. Someone she knew, an interior designer, had used a few in a client’s home, and that home had made it into a style magazine and Phoebe had gotten credit. She had a website, of course, and before she knew it, people were trying to order pillows from it.

So far, Phoebe had done everything through phone and email, but now that she had no other commitments, she was thinking that perhaps it was time to get serious about it, about her own line of home goods. Still, the decision was so new that it felt weird talking about it out loud. But if there was one person who would certainly not judge her, it was Lynn.But if anyone was certain not to judge her, it was Lynn.

“No, I’ve been working on a business idea. I think I was getting tired of coming up with all these great ideas and having other people take the credit for it. Quitting my job, taking care of Savannah, coming here—it all feels like maybe it’s a part of a journey, some journey to find what I really want to do with my life.” Phoebe stopped.

“Well, Queensbay is about as small and real as it gets. Not that we don’t have our little society here. There’s the Garden Club and the Yacht Club—Friday night barbeques, not to be missed…” Lynn gave a laugh. The guy in the fleece, joined by a friend in a ball cap, was edging closer.

“I guess it wouldn’t be such a bad place to try and blend in,” Phoebe said, twirling the stem of her oversized margarita glass. She realized that she was really considering the thought. Sure, Ivy House needed work to make it fit for habitation, but not that much. After the renovation, she could keep working on it while living there and running her business.

“You totally could. It would be great. And in the summer, the place really picks up. Plenty of guys with absolutely no ambition of becoming actors. You could go incognito.”

Augie’s was filling up, the energy rising. Phoebe could feel the tequila in the margarita starting to loosen her up. It would be nice to be somewhere. Put down roots, start over, far away from the too-bright sun of Los Angeles. Savannah had always said Ivy House was magical. Maybe it just needed a little love to bring the magic back.

“I could do it,” Phoebe said, emboldened by the liquor. “I can fix up Ivy House and live there. Why not? I’m twenty-eight years old, I have some money in the bank. I don’t have to be anywhere I don’t want to be.”

Lynn threw her head back and laughed. “You go girl.”

They clinked their glasses. “And here’s to dating people who have no idea who we are,” Lynn said.

“Here, here. No real names and no real professions tonight!” Phoebe agreed, already feeling the smile starting to curve up her lips.