The Ivy House (A Queensbay Novel) by Drea Stein Read Free Book Online Page A

demand…”
    Before she could continue, Chase spoke up. “It’s quite alright. Sorry to bother you, Ms. Ryan. I’ll be going now. But please, think about what I said.”
    The smirk was back on his face and so were his sunglasses, and if Phoebe wasn’t mistaken, she was almost certain his shoulders were shaking ever so slightly as he walked out the swinging double doors and onto the wide porch.
    Phoebe turned back to look at Jim, who seemed to be having some sort of choking fit. His face was bright red and when she asked if he was OK, he waved his hand and managed to cough out, “Fine, just fine.”
    She left after that, satisfied that she had made her point to the lurking and looming Chase Sanders. Ivy House would not be for sale to him. Savannah did not want her to sell it, at least not to someone who probably only wanted it for the view.
    Phoebe started out across the village, taking Hill Road, aptly named because it snaked up the high bluffs that circled the harbor. A mix of colonial and late Victorian houses lined the road, and as she got to the top, it flattened out and little lanes jutted off, leading to the water’s edge. Ivy Lane was just a half mile up from Queensbay, but it was a steep hike, and she was just a little bit winded when she made it to the front gate.
    Ivy House stood there, starkly white against a bluer-than-blue spring sky. It had beckoned to her since yesterday. All of last night she had dreamt of it, strange dreams that had played out like one of Savannah’s black-and-white movies. Looking at the house now, the images came back to her. Savannah had appeared, dressed in a simple flowing dress, an elegant blonde. Stepping into the frame had been an older, distinguished man, Leland Harper, dark haired, white suited.
    Savannah and Leland’s affair and marriage had been so passionate that books had been written and even a miniseries had been based on it. Phoebe’s grandmother hardly ever talked about Leland, so Phoebe had done what any kid would do. She’d gone to the internet, watched the miniseries—filled with B-list actors—read the books, and tried to imagine what it had been like.
    Savannah and Leland had decided that the best way to quell the uproar was to appear normal. So, they had stayed in Queensbay, Leland’s hometown, and had tried to live like normal people for a while, as normal as a movie star and millionaire could be. The happily-ever-after hadn’t lasted, of course. They were too close to Leland’s ex-wife, who wouldn’t leave them alone, and Savannah couldn’t be kept from acting.
    No one knew if it would have lasted since Leland had died in an airplane crash, making the story tragic and epic. Still, from the dreamy look Savannah got on her face whenever she talked about Leland and Queensbay, Phoebe knew that Ivy House had been a special place.
    Now looking at the house, Phoebe tried to sense the magic Savannah had written about in her letter. The house was beautiful, at least if you looked past the cosmetic blemishes. The white tower that shot up lent the house a quirky sense of possibility. Magic, though? Phoebe looked around at the overgrown garden, the rusted fence, and the broken flagstones. She closed her eyes, breathed in the scent of the water, and let the movie play again in her mind.
    Ivy House was gleaming white, the sky blue, the water bluer. Seagulls wheeled in the sky and a light wind rustled the oaks. Foxgloves and lupine bloomed, and the fence was a gleaming black. There was the sound of laughter and the porch invited you to sit. The door was painted Phoebe’s favorite color, a slate blue, and the brass knocker shone.
    Smiling, Phoebe opened her eyes. Perhaps this was it, what she needed. Maybe Savannah had truly meant to give her something that needed to be put back together again. She could restore Ivy House, whether for herself or to sell it; maybe that didn’t matter. But it would be a project, real, honest work while she sorted out her life. It