The Ivy House (A Queensbay Novel) by Drea Stein

Phoebe’s face and backpedaled. “Well, not really.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    Lynn looked at her, confused. “You mean you really don’t know who Chase Sanders is?”
    “He’s some guy who wants to buy this house. And he bought pillows from me. And gave me a chocolate-chip cookie.” Which was so good, Phoebe thought, that she had to lean against a wall to catch her breath.
    “And that’s all you know about him?”
    “Well, he’s cocky and arrogant…” Phoebe added, remembering how Chase’s finger had brushed against her cheek in search of an errant piece of chocolate.
    “And a total player.” Lynn nodded. “Pretty much everyone agrees on that score. But that’s not all.”
    Phoebe shook her head in ignorance.
    “Here, let me.” Lynn pulled the computer to her, typed in something, and stood back. Phoebe stared down at the image on the screen.
    “Why am I looking at a picture of Savannah Ryan and Leland…” Phoebe trailed off, not believing what her eyes were telling her.
    “Can you see the resemblance now?” Lynn asked.
    “What…How…” Phoebe sat down on the rusted folding chair.
    “Chase Sanders is Leland Harper’s grandson. You know, from his daughter from his first marriage. She married a Sanders.”
    “And he lives here in Queensbay?”
    “Yes…has lived here his whole life, I heard. I guess his grandmother remarried and stayed here. You mean you never saw how much he looked like Leland?”
    Phoebe shook her head. “Savannah didn’t keep many pictures. At least not the ones that were out. She didn’t like to be reminded of him. Too painful.”
    It took a moment for it to all sink in. Chase Sanders, he of the ridiculously high offer for Ivy House, he of the pillow buying, chocolate-chip-dispensing charm was Leland Harper’s grandson. And he had known all along.
    It took about a moment for the shock of it all to wear off and be replaced by searing hot anger.
    <<>>
    Outrage propelled Phoebe out of the house, down the hill, and towards the marina. She brought herself up short at the top of the marina’s docks, her eyes scanning for dark hair and sunglasses.
    “Can I help you, miss?” She looked up. A boy, blondish hair, an earring in one ear, and a polo shirt embroidered with the words “Queensbay Marina” was looking at her.
    “Chase Sanders,” she barked.
    He glanced her over, then decided that she was harmless, and pointed down to one of the long narrow docks.
    “The Windsway , berth eighty-nine.”
    “Thank you,” Phoebe managed to say.
    A hand touched her arm, and Lynn pulled her around.
    “Phoebe, are you sure you should be doing this?” Lynn’s brown eyes were round with concern.
    “Oh, I am sure,” Phoebe said, starting down the ramp. The dock bobbed as she stepped on it, and it took a moment for her to catch her footing.
    The slips were all numbered, and she walked carefully along. Lynn followed her, calling out suggestions. “You know, maybe you should phone him first.”
    “What, and give him a chance to come up with some story?” Phoebe said. They were at slip eighty, and she practically jogged the rest of the way to his boat, drawing up short when she came to it. Now that she was here, she wasn’t quite sure what to do next. She could hear voices coming from inside the boat. It was a sailboat—long, sleek, with a white hull and a blue sunshade over half of the cockpit. The chrome gleamed and the wood shone. Lines were neatly coiled around cleats and winches.
    There was the sound of laughter, high, girlish, and then a lower, deeper, answering chuckle.
    She hadn’t expected him to have company.
    Lynn came up beside Phoebe and looked at her. Phoebe knew there was no turning back.
    “Chase Sanders.”
    “Try again,” Lynn suggested. “Louder. Let him know how riled up you are.”
    Lynn seemed to be enjoying this way too much.
    “Chase Sanders, I need to talk to you.” Phoebe called and this time her voice was loud and true.
    There were