The Ivy House (A Queensbay Novel) by Drea Stein Page B

underneath them, and a seagull that had been posed on a piling took flight into the warm blue sky.
    He was there, right in front of her, standing too close to her. She took a step back and found that her way was blocked, that there was something, a large pole, behind her. To step around would make it obvious that she was trying to get away from him, and she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
    “Don’t you think you might have mentioned it?”
    Chase shrugged. He didn’t have his sunglasses on, and she could see just how blue his eyes were, the sapphire of them surrounded by little lines that fanned out from the corners.
    “I guess I was waiting for the right time. Besides, it’s a bit of an awkward way to open a conversation, don’t you think?”
    Phoebe didn’t say anything, so he continued. “Anyway, what does it matter?”
    “Matter?” Phoebe knew her voice sounded shrill even to her own ears. “Matter. Why do you want the house? Some sort of evil vendetta?”
    “Vendetta?” Chase looked puzzled. “What are you talking about? It’s a house…”
    He didn’t get any further than that.
    “I know what you Harpers are capable of. And if you think you can drive me out of town, make me miserable, just like you did to Savannah, you have another thing coming.”
    “What…Make you miserable…Your grandmother was the home wrecker.”
    “Home wrecker?” Phoebe fought for control. “She was an amazing actress, an American legend.”
    “God,” Chase rolled his eyes. His nonchalant grin had been replaced by something more like annoyance. “You’re starting to sound like those crappy Hollywood tribute programs, ‘Savannah Ryan, the golden child, blah, blah…’”
    “Well, at least she wasn’t some dried-up prune of a woman who hounded her ex-husband when he wouldn’t take her back.”
    “Oh, please, like you would know. What is that, the Savannah Ryan Hollywood version of the story?”
    They were yelling at each other full on. Phoebe realized that more than a few people had popped their heads out of boats and were looking at them with open interest.
    Chase was also very close to her, so close that she could see the way the blue of his eyes was pierced by lighter flecks. They were like pools of water, great, deep, inviting pools of water, and she felt hot all of a sudden, even though the day wasn’t that warm, and she was in the shade of the boat.
    Now it was Chase’s turn to point his finger and, though he kept it from touching her, it wagged annoyingly in her face.
    “You might think you can come here, all high and mighty, Ms. Hollywood, but not everyone in this town wants to see that house torn down.”
    “Torn down?” she said, puzzled, not quite sure where this conversation was going.
    “It’s practically a piece of history, and maybe all you people from California want new and shiny and modern, but here in Queensbay, in my town…”
    “Your town?”
    “My town, that’s right, we believe in preserving history, not destroying it.”
    “I don’t want to destroy it…” Before Phoebe was able to go any further, there was the sound of pounding feet and an anxious voice.
    “Chase.” Phoebe looked over Chase’s shoulder. It was that girl again, Tory, with the caramel-colored hair.
    “Not now, Tory,” Chase said without turning.
    “Ahh, I think you’re going to want to come. There’s an issue down in Florida.”
    “Take care of it,” Chase said, but he turned to look.
    Phoebe saw that Tory was wringing her hands and looked genuinely distressed.
    He turned back to Phoebe. “This,” he said, “isn’t over.” He spun around and walked up the dock, Tory talking to him urgently. The surface under Phoebe swayed a little and she leaned back into the piling. What had just happened?
    <<>>
    “Do people think I want to tear down Ivy House?” Phoebe asked Lynn. They were sharing a bottle of wine Lynn had brought over, along with cheese and crackers, sitting on the