by Unknown
She sighed, grabbing the stack of napkins Maggie had thoughtfully included in her delivery. “You’re making assumptions, Uncle Caleb.”
“Based on hard evidence. It’s a good thing we’re here. A dose of your family will jump-start your brain.”
“I’m not discussing Justin Sloan—or anyone else in Knights Bridge—given your mood.”
“What mood?”
“You’ve been driving for several days with your eighteen-year-old son. Isaac’s great and you love to drive, but you have a lot on your mind.” Samantha set the napkins on the table for people to take as needed. “You’re worried about Isaac going to school on this side of the Atlantic.”
Caleb got the salad off the counter and set it on the table. “I went to school on this side of the Atlantic.”
“Your parents lived in Boston.”
“They weren’t there all the time. We live in a big world. See what I’m saying, Sam? This town’s affecting you.”
“Don’t let Caleb fool you,” her mother said, joining them in the kitchen. “He knows you have to figure out the situation here for yourself, and what’s next for you. So does your father.”
“There’s more to be done at Grandpa’s house in Boston,” Samantha said. “My skills are replaceable.”
“But you’re not,” her mother said.
“Thank you.”
Her father came into the kitchen and snatched a slice of cucumber out of the salad. “You’re as driven and impulsive as any Bennett.” He headed to the stove and got the lasagna out of the oven. “All kidding aside, Samantha, this is your gig. We’ll do anything we can to help you, and we’ll try to stay out of the way of you and this Justin Sloan character.”
“Do you think there’s pirate treasure out here?” she asked quietly.
“Anything is possible.” He set the lasagna onto pot holders on the table. “Lightning did strike the other day.”
As she stood in the warm kitchen with her parents and uncle, Samantha realized the aftereffects of her scare had eased. “All’s well that ends well, as Grandpa used to say. He left me with unanswered questions about his own interest in Benjamin Farraday. He never mentioned him to any of you?”
“Not a word,” her uncle said.
Her parents agreed. Samantha started to bring up The Mill at Cider Brook or The Adventures of Captain Farraday and Lady Elizabeth, but Olivia, Dylan and Loretta arrived, bearing wine from Noah Kendrick’s winery.
Any lingering misunderstanding or doubts about Samantha’s history with Duncan McCaffrey and Loretta Wrentham’s role in getting her fired dissipated over dinner. The conversation centered on Olivia and Dylan’s upcoming wedding, plans for The Farm at Carriage Hill and life in San Diego and Knights Bridge. Olivia and Isaac talked about Amherst, and she gave him more a sense of what it was like today versus eighty years ago when Harry Bennett had been there.
No mention was made of pirates, or of last week’s fire and Samantha’s rescuer.
After their guests left, she dug out a Scrabble set, and she, Ann, Eloisa and her father played a game on the dining room table. Samantha found an old score card of a series of games between Justin and his brothers. He’d lost every one of them—except the last one, which he’d won by a hundred points. She could see him letting his younger brothers win, then nailing them, just to remind them he could do it.
She bunked with Ann and Eloisa under the eaves in an upstairs bedroom. The girls were drooling over Dylan McCaffrey and Justin Sloan.
“If that’s what the guys are like here,” Ann said, “we’re moving to Knights Bridge.”
* * *
In the morning, Samantha led her father and uncle down the trail along Cider Brook to the old mill while her mother, aunt and cousins stayed back at the cabin. The Bennett brothers examined the fire damage and interrogated Samantha about her interest.
“You didn’t just happen on this place,” her father said.
“I did and I didn’t.” She nodded to them. “Did Grandpa ever mention a painting of a cider mill to you? And a handwritten draft of a story about Farraday and a British aristocrat?”
The two men frowned at her. Caleb shook his head. “No.”
Samantha filled them in as they walked back to the cabin together. Her aunt and cousins had been out kayaking on the pond. Her mother was reading a book on the porch, wrapped up in one of the Sloan quilts. They all had lunch together. Then Samantha waved Caleb and his gang goodbye, as they left in the old Mercedes, and saw her parents off in their rented car. They were all heading up to the old Bennett farm, via a stop in Amherst so Isaac’s younger siblings could see where their grandfather had gone to college—and where Isaac hoped he’d be going. Then they would meet Samantha in Boston.
With her family safely back on the road, she walked down Carriage Hill Road. It was much easier without a backpack. She’d left hers on the cabin porch. She would fetch it once she figured out where she would be tonight. She ran through her options as she came to Grace Webster’s old place. She noticed Justin’s truck in the driveway. No surprise, since he was the contractor, but she still felt her heartbeat quicken.
Loretta was by the trailer and waved to her. Samantha headed up the driveway. “It’s freezing,” Loretta said, shivering in her leather jacket. “Dylan says I’m being dramatic, but I swear I woke up with icicles on my bed. Apparently Olivia doesn’t like to turn on the heat this early in the season, never mind the temperature.”
Justin ambled out of the trailer, grinning at her. “It’s sixty degrees out, Loretta.”
“Fifty-nine. I just checked, and it wasn’t fifty-nine this morning.”
“Do you ever back down?”
“Never. Even if I know I’m going to lose, I at least find a way to save face.” She gave a satisfied sigh. “It’s crazy that I came out here, but it’s good, too. Cathartic. I didn’t realize just how much I had repressed the past two years.”
“How long will you be staying?” Samantha asked.
Loretta glanced at her wristwatch. “Another forty-five minutes. I have a flight this evening that I don’t intend to miss. Need a ride to Boston?”
Samantha hesitated only a fraction of a second. “Yes—yes, that would be great. I just have to stop at the cabin for my backpack.”
“We’ll pick it up on the way. My car’s still at Carriage Hill. Let me say goodbye to Olivia and Dylan and meet you back here.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
Loretta seemed pleased as she turned to Justin. “I’ll see you again at the wedding. I’ll be sure to bring my parka then. This trip...” She paused, glancing at the construction. “It was necessary and necessarily short.” She straightened, smiled. “Anyway, Dylan mentioned a path along the stone wall, instead of walking back down the road. Can you point me in the right direction?”
“I’ll walk you over there,” Justin said.
Samantha waited by the trailer, watching the workers. She could tell they were watching her, too. She didn’t blame them. When Justin returned, she noticed his broad shoulders, the shape of his mouth, his jaw. It was crazy, this awareness of him. Just as well her family hadn’t stuck around. “My family just left,” she told him. “They love Knights Bridge. They’re off to Amherst and Grandpa Bennett’s old farm in southern New Hampshire. I’ll see them all again before they return to England and Scotland.”
“In Boston,” he said.
She nodded. “I hadn’t thought about when or how I’d get back, and then Loretta said—well, you heard her. I seized the moment.”
“Did your family have any insights into your pirate?”
“No, but it doesn’t matter—”
“Doesn’t it, Sam? And when this mystery is solved? On to the next one?”
“I don’t know what’s next. I’m counting on serendipity to lead the way.”
“Serendipity,” Justin said, with just a twitch of his lips. “Right.”
She met his eyes, almost a midnight-blue in the shade. “There’s som
ething in Boston that I want you to see.”
“There is, is there?”
“Two things, actually. You don’t have to go there. I can bring them here.”
“Do you own a car?”
“No, but I can wait for Uncle Caleb to come back with Grandpa’s old car. It might be a few days.” She smiled brightly, with more confidence than she felt. “I’ll plan the next visit better than this one.”
“Boston isn’t that far. I have some business there I’ve been putting off. Maybe I’ll take a drive over there.”
Samantha pictured him pulling up to her grandfather’s Back Bay house in his dusty-gray truck, and smiled at the image. “That would be great. When could you get there?”
He leaned in close to her. “Before your family gets back from their wandering.”
Twenty-Seven
Loretta did the driving into Boston, veering into the left lane and staying there for most of the trip. On their way out, Dylan had warned Samantha to make sure her seat belt was securely fastened. Good advice, she thought as Loretta careened down Storrow Drive into Boston. They’d talked about Knights Bridge, and Samantha had told her new friend about Benjamin Farraday and the tragic couple in the photographs in the country store.
She looked out her window as they passed the Boston University campus. “I hardly slept last night thinking about Zeke and Henrietta. I have a feeling their story got to Justin, too.”
“These tall, dark, silent types can have hearts of gold, you know,” Loretta said, but without her usual half-serious tone. “It’s quite a story, Samantha. I can’t imagine what I would do if the man I loved died saving my life.”
“I can’t, either.”
Samantha felt the flashback to her close call with fire coming on this time. She let it wash over her—let herself feel Justin’s strong arms coming around her as she’d gasped for air, tasted the smoke, felt it burning in her eyes, her throat. The moment passed, and she exhaled a long, slow breath before she continued.
“Okay?” Loretta asked her.
“Yes, thanks. I keep thinking I’m missing something that’s right in front of me.”
“Maybe getting away from Sloan testosterone will help.”
Samantha smiled. “Maybe.”
“I’ll write down these names once I get to my gate. Farraday, Hazelton. Do we know Henrietta’s maiden name?”
“Justin might. I don’t.”
“No worries. I know a guy who can find out anything about anyone.” Loretta pointed at an exit off Storrow. “This is where we get off for your grandfather’s house, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I don’t mind getting you out to Logan. I can take the subway back into town.”
Loretta already had her blinker on. “It’s all right. I’ve got this down now. If I get lost after I drop you off, I’ll dump this heap on the side of the road and flag a cab. Nobody will miss it. Isn’t it the worst car rental ever?”
Samantha laughed. “It is pretty bad.”
With no need of Samantha’s guidance, Loretta pulled in front of Harry Bennett’s Back Bay house without making, or even almost making, a wrong turn. She grinned as she parked crookedly. “Serendipity, but I’m not staying. I want to give myself plenty of time to get to the airport and turn in this car.” She reached over and grabbed Samantha’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “I’m glad I came out here and met you, Samantha. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other again before too long. Knights Bridge is under your skin.” She added in a conspiratorial half whisper, “More to the point, so is Justin Sloan.”
“Things did kind of explode between us,” Samantha said. “But he’s coming to his senses.”
“Yes, he is, and he’s about to realize that having you in his life is worth the chaos.”
“We haven’t even known each other a week.”
“All it takes sometimes. Duncan and I...” Loretta sighed, wistful, not as manic and sad as she had been yesterday. “Hours.”
“And now you’re going home to this guy who can find out anything about anyone—”
“Who is a total pain in my backside,” Loretta said with a laugh. “I’ll be back in touch if we find out anything. See you, Samantha.”
“Safe travels.”
After Loretta pulled away in her creaky rental, Samantha dragged her backpack to the front stoop of her grandfather’s house. She hadn’t managed to refold her tent as neatly as Justin had, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t be using it again for a while.
She had her keys out when a movement down on the street caught her attention. She looked back and saw Justin standing on the street with an apple in one hand. He put one foot on the bottom step. He had on his usual canvas shirt, T-shirt, jeans and scuffed boots. “Hey, Sam. I thought you’d never get here.”
“How did you beat us?”
“Loretta doesn’t know the roads. I do. I passed you in Concord.”
“Concord terrified her.”
“She’s all drama. Nothing terrifies her.”
Samantha stuck her key in the door. “What about your business in Boston?”
“It’ll keep. It’s not why I’m here.”
She pushed open the door and led him into the front entry. Her gaze landed on her grandfather’s umbrella still in its stand in the corner, as if he were about to go out for a walk on the esplanade.
Justin grabbed her backpack and set it inside the door. “I have to be back in Knights Bridge tonight. I’m on call, and I have work in the morning.”
“You’ve lost a lot of time already since I came to town.” She pointed to the curving stairs. “My grandfather’s office is on the second floor. That’s where the things are that I want to show you.”
“Lead the way.”
“This place could use a good contractor,” she said. “Carpenters who know old houses. You’ll see.”
As Samantha headed up the familiar stairs, she was aware of Justin behind her, watching her, taking in everything, as if he were gauging whether their worlds were so different—too different.
She came to the landing and pointed to the open door to her grandfather’s office. “In there. I think I’ve spent more time in Grandpa’s office during the past three years than he did in all the time he lived here.”
“You love this place.”
“Because it reminds me of him and the amazing life he led.”
“He set quite a standard. Tough to live up to?”
She took in a breath. “I don’t think he wanted us to see it that way. My father, Uncle Caleb, my cousins, me. I think he wanted us to find our own path in life and embrace whatever it is, wherever it takes us.”
“Within reason,” Justin said. “Bet he didn’t want you to be bank robbers.”
She laughed, not as tense and self-conscious about having him here, close to her, in this place she loved. She went first into the cluttered office. Justin stood back, taking in the massive old desk, the mix of glass-front and open shelves, the credenza, the filing cabinet, the heavy drapes and Persian rug.
Samantha walked over to the closet, the door still cracked open from when she’d been up here last Wednesday morning. “Grandpa used to say that the main reason he became an explorer was so he didn’t have to sit in an office. I’ve worked here on and off since he died, more steadily since Duncan fired me. Grandpa managed to squirrel stuff away all over the house. I’ve got most everything sorted out in his London apartment. We’ll be getting rid of it soon.”
“Will you be putting this place on the market?” Justin asked.
“I don’t know. It’s not up to me.”
She opened the closet door wide and stepped in, the cider mill painting and the original pages of The Adventures of Captain Farraday and Lady Elizabeth right where she’d left them. With a quick breath, she brought them out into the office. She set the small painting against the credenza that held her grandfather’s Scotch decanters and handed the pages, in their worn envelope, to Justin.
“I didn’t know about
these when I went to Knights Bridge two years ago,” she said. “If I had known, I might have handled things differently. But I knew about them this trip.”
“That’s my cider mill,” Justin said softly, his gaze narrowed on the painting and its rich colors.
Samantha saw now that it could be no other cider mill but the one on Cider Brook in little Knights Bridge. Run-down, abandoned, no longer a vibrant red, it was without question the model for the romanticized one in the anonymous painting.
Justin turned to her. “Where did this come from?”
“I don’t know. Grandpa didn’t keep good records. Grandma did what she could, but she had her own work and died twenty-five years ago.”
He opened the envelope and read the handwritten title page. He smiled at Samantha. “Your pirate rogue?”
“A highly fictionalized version of him. The story’s just a rough draft. It was never finished. Captain Farraday rescues a British aristocrat after she’s kidnapped by one of her wealthy father’s enemies. They have numerous adventures on the high seas.”
Justin laughed. “I’ll bet they do.” He set the pages on the desk and picked up one of the decanters. “Is this what you filled your flask with?”
“That’s the Lagavulin, yes. There are still a few unopened whiskey bottles in the closet. Grandpa had a friend who sent him good Scotch at Christmas.”
“A good friend to have.” He nodded to the closet. “Mind if I have a look?”
Samantha shook her head. As Justin stepped into the closet, she sat on the edge of the desk, noticed the afternoon light was less direct in the office, a hint of the shorter days to come.
He emerged from the closet with an Ardbeg single malt, still in its distinctive box. “Another good Scotch. Ultra peaty.”
“I’m not that up on Scotch. I just poured some into the flask in kindred spirit with Grandpa.”
“Adam’s the Scotch drinker in our family. I’ve learned a bit from him.” Justin set the whiskey on the credenza next to the decanters. “I grabbed this one because there’s a card with it.”
