That Night on Thistle Lane

by Carla Neggers

  “I’m hosting the fashion show tonight. It seemed fitting to wear this dress.”

  “It’s perfect. Tonight’s special in a number of ways.”

  “Yes, it is.” She felt calmer, steadier, even as she recognized that her head was spinning at having him back in Knights Bridge. “Thank you for being here. I haven’t talked to Olivia, so I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “I asked her not to say anything. Things have been happening fast.” He glanced back at Thistle Lane, then turned to her again. “I appreciate all you and your sisters did to help figure out what Julius Hartley wanted.”

  “You’re the one who put us in touch with Daphne Stewart.”

  “Through Hartley.”

  Phoebe nodded. “It’s really exciting. I knew the hidden sewing room was special but I had no idea the woman who created it ended up in Hollywood. I haven’t told anyone. I’ve just said it’s okay to use the dresses—that won’t give Miss Stewart away, if she wants to stay anonymous.”

  “I don’t know that she does,” Noah said quietly. “Olivia and Dylan will be here soon. They have Loretta Wrentham and Julius Hartley with them, and a guest.”

  Phoebe stood straight. “Noah?”

  His eyes seemed so blue in the evening light. “We met Daphne Stewart in Los Angeles. Hartley had told her about the fashion show, and how you’d discovered her old sewing room. She said she wanted to be here tonight, if it’s all right with you.”

  “She’s here in Knights Bridge? Noah...”

  “I’ll let her explain everything.”

  “She really is George Sanderson’s great-great-granddaughter, you know.”

  Noah smiled, visibly more relaxed. “George Sanderson, the intrepid founder of the Knights Bridge Free Public Library.”

  “I wonder if being here inspired her.”

  “Or maybe his ghost did.”

  Noah tucked another curl back into Phoebe’s pins, then stood back as Dylan’s car pulled in front of her house. He and Olivia got out. She gave Phoebe a quick wave, as if to say everything would be all right. Then the sleek black sedan returned, parked behind Dylan’s car.

  Julius Hartley emerged from the backseat while a tall, slender woman in tight black pants, a belted white top and red heels stepped out from the front passenger seat. Julius helped another woman out of the back. She was petite and elegant, with copper hair in a pixie cut. She wore a simple rust-colored dress with a teal-and-rust scarf and sparkly gold flats.

  The tall woman glided up the walk to the front porch. “I’m Loretta Wrentham,” she said, coming up the steps. “Phoebe, right?”

  Phoebe nodded, aware of Noah standing even closer to her. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “I’ll bet,” Loretta said. “Cute place. I like wicker.”

  “Me, too,” Phoebe said with a smile.

  Noah frowned at Loretta. She shrugged. “Well, I do.”

  He said nothing.

  The copper-haired woman crossed the lawn with Julius Hartley at her side. Phoebe started down the porch steps. Noah took her hand and walked with her. Loretta followed them. Phoebe thought she heard the older woman sigh.

  The copper-haired woman left Julius’s side and went to the trellis, tears glistening in her deep green eyes as she touched a pink rose. She lowered her hand and turned to Phoebe and Noah. “I never thought I’d ever see this place again.”

  Julius cleared his throat. “Daphne, this is Phoebe O’Dunn, director of the library here in Knights Bridge. Phoebe, this is Daphne Stewart, or, as she was known when she was living here, Debbie Sanderson.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Stewart,” Phoebe said, aware of Noah, silent, still, next to her.

  “Likewise, Phoebe, and you must call me Daphne—although standing here, seeing this place...” She smiled through unshed tears. “I feel like Debbie Sanderson again.”

  Phoebe returned her smile. “I can imagine. I’m glad you’re here.”

  Daphne stood back, eyeing Phoebe with obvious emotion, then pointed. “Your dress...”

  Phoebe glanced down at the beautiful gown. “I couldn’t resist.”

  Daphne laughed unexpectedly. “That’s good. Excellent, in fact. My heavens, that dress does look stunning on you.”

  “I agree,” Noah said softly.

  Phoebe noticed Loretta all but roll her eyes, but Daphne continued, “You’re Patrick’s daughter. I can see him in you.” She breathed in deeply, looking at the rose trellis and the small house where she used to live. “I have roses at my home in Hollywood Hills. It’s a cute little bungalow not that different from this place. Oh, I had such big dreams when I was here.”

  “Looks as if some of them came true,” Loretta said, her directness breaking through the nostalgic mood.

  “A lot of them did,” Daphne said.

  Olivia touched Dylan’s arm. “Let’s take Loretta and Julius to the library and get settled. Noah, Phoebe and Daphne can meet us there.”

  Hartley looked reluctant but made no comment as he followed Olivia, Dylan and Loretta out to Thistle Lane. Daphne smiled, watching them. “Julius is someone you want to have on your side,” she said quietly.

  “You’re welcome to come inside and have a look around,” Phoebe said.

  “Thank you but you have a show to put on.” Daphne brushed back a few tears. “I wasn’t sure I’d even get out of the car. I’m glad I did. I’d like to walk to the library, if you don’t mind.”

  “That was my plan, too.”

  “I thought it might be.” She looked out at the shaded yard, a breeze stirring in the trees. “I assumed someone had discovered my old sewing room years ago and given everything to Goodwill. It never occurred to me that it was still intact. I feel a little like Sleeping Beauty.”

  “It’s a big attic,” Phoebe said with a smile.

  “I was surprised when Julius told me about the dresses Olivia, her friend Maggie and Noah’s mysterious dance partner wore.” Daphne brushed back a few tears. “It’s funny how things work out sometimes, isn’t it? I see an article about Dylan McCaffrey and Knights Bridge, and you discover my secret sewing room. Meant to be, maybe.”

  “Maybe so.”

  Daphne fingered another rose, as if remembering herself at twenty-one. “I came to Knights Bridge because of my family’s roots in the Swift River Valley. I thought it would help me to be close to my great-great-grandfather’s energy, his can-do spirit. And it did, just not in all the ways I imagined. Well. Shall we go? Can you walk all right in that long skirt?”

  “Not a problem. I even danced in it.”

  Daphne gave her a knowing smile. “So I hear.”

  With a sudden burst of energy, she headed down the front walk. Phoebe glanced at Noah. “Go,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  She crossed the lawn and met up with Daphne Stewart. Noah stayed a few feet behind them as they started down Thistle Lane toward the library.

  Daphne hooked Phoebe’s arm into hers. “My father was a troubled man and as a result I had a troubled childhood. I knew I had to make a clean break. I saved up and moved to Knights Bridge.”

  “And you got a job at the library your great-great-grandfather founded,” Phoebe said.

  “I always knew it wasn’t permanent. I loved it, and I loved the little house I rented, that you now own.” Daphne tightened her hold on Phoebe, as if she needed to steady herself. “I knew that to save myself, I had to totally reinvent who I was—even who I thought I was. I was invisible here, but that’s what I wanted.”

  “Invisible, maybe, but not unappreciated.”

  Daphne cut her a sideways look. “Thank you for that.”

  “How did you end up creating your sewing room?” Phoebe asked.

  “I volunteered to tidy up the attic.” Daphne’s grip eased, and she sounded more at ease, more the confident, successful woman she’d become. “I thought it’d be a good opportunity to think, perhaps to encounter a ghost or two
. I cleaned out a storage room and decided to make it my own. I enjoyed sewing. I knew what I was doing with a needle and thread. My grandmother taught me the basics. Then I got books out of the library and learned more.”

  “Did you know you wanted to be a designer?”

  “I knew I didn’t want to be me,” Daphne said quietly. “Having a secret room allowed me to take risks I otherwise might not have. Not all risks involve jumping out of airplanes and climbing tall mountains. Some involve daring to strip away the limiting beliefs about yourself and seeing what’s left.”

  Phoebe glanced back at Noah, knew he could hear them, but he just gave her a slight wink.

  Daphne lowered her arm from Phoebe’s and inhaled the night air. “I never imagined at twenty that I’d fly back here in a private jet, that much I can tell you.” There was no hint of tears in her eyes now. “I used to walk to the library with fabric tucked under my coat. I spent every dime I had on fabric, thread, notions. I’d haunt thrift stores for old clothes that came in that I could tear apart and use in my sewing. I followed patterns at first. Then I found myself adapting them, adding this or that. I had such a good time.”

  “You taught yourself dress design, then.”

  “I did. I loved old movies. Of course, some of them weren’t so old back then. I learned and practiced by copying dresses I took a fancy to in the movies. Then I pretended I was in charge of costumes for various movies and created my own designs.”

  “The dress I’m wearing is one of your original designs, isn’t it?” Phoebe asked. “It’s lovely. It caught my eye right away.”

  “You’re very kind, Phoebe. Yes, I pretended I was designing costumes for a movie about the Titanic. It’s not all that different from one of the dresses Kate Winslet wore many years later.” Daphne sighed heavily, but with none of the earlier raw emotion. “There was something about being up in the library attic...” She trailed off, then smiled as she glanced again at Phoebe. “Maybe it was my great-great-grandfather’s presence.”

  For all Phoebe knew, it was.

  Daphne took Phoebe’s arm again as the library came into view. “He’s quite a man, your Noah.”

  “We’re not... He isn’t...” Phoebe took a breath. “Sorry. I’m not usually tongue-tied. I just don’t want to give the wrong impression.”

  “But you aren’t, are you? You don’t have to answer. Your remind me so much of your father. He was new to town, too. We helped each other. Knights Bridge was exactly where he wanted to be.”

  “He was such a dreamer,” Phoebe said with affection.

  “The war took its toll on his natural spirit and optimism, but he finally decided that the best way for him to honor the friends he lost was to live each day.”

  “He did that. No question.”

  Daphne squeezed Phoebe’s hand, then let go as the library came into view. “One night, he walked me home from the library. It was January, absolutely frigid.” She gave a mock shiver. “Believe me, I’ve never missed below-zero temperatures living in Southern California. That night was so clear. I’ve never seen stars glittering in a night sky like that. Patrick said it was a combination of the cold air and Quabbin, the absence of ambient light. Now that I do miss.”

  “I love the night sky,” Phoebe said.

  “That night...” Daphne looked up at the early-evening sky, gray with dusk. “It felt as if the stars were talking to me. I knew I had to leave. I got home and packed up and left Knights Bridge that night.”

  “My father—”

  “He knew I wasn’t meant to stay here. He was so comfortable that night, as cold as it was. It was as if he were back in his own skin again. He was like a brother to me, you know. I’d have done anything for him.”

  “Did you stay in touch?”

  “I didn’t even say goodbye,” Daphne said softly, almost to herself. “It was so, so cold that night. So cold, Phoebe. I knew it was Patrick’s destiny to stay here and be himself just as it was mine to leave and become myself. I don’t know if that makes sense to you but it does to me.”

  “It makes perfect sense,” Phoebe said, meaning it.

  “My attic room tells my story in a way, doesn’t it?”

  Phoebe smiled. “It certainly does. How did you get to Hollywood?”

  “I took buses across the country. I was flat broke by the time I hit Wilshire Boulevard, but I got a job waitressing, found a roommate. I started working on sets, doing whatever work someone would hire me to do, and eventually I got into costume design.” She grinned suddenly at Phoebe. “That’s the short version.”

  “Did you ever marry, have kids?”

  “Marry, yes. More than once. Have kids, no. Patrick O’Dunn, though...” She shook her head in obvious

  amazement. “Four daughters.”

  “With your former French student,” Phoebe added.

  “Will Elly be here tonight?”

  “She wouldn’t miss it.”

  They walked under a sugar maple and across the library’s side yard to the front entrance. Phoebe saw Ava and Ruby on the steps, in their flapper dresses from Daphne’s hidden room.

  “I’m honored, Phoebe,” Daphne said in a hoarse whisper. “I thought I needed to pretend my past here never existed. I didn’t want any reminders, anyone else to know about Debbie Sanderson and her abusive, alcoholic childhood.”

  “No one needs to know who you are,” Phoebe said. “If it’s what you want, you can attend the fashion show as one of Dylan’s friends from California.”

  Daphne paused as they came to the main entrance. “Loretta says you should introduce me.”

  “That sounds like Loretta,” Noah said, joining them, easing in next to Phoebe. “We’ll do whatever you want.”

  Daphne didn’t respond, and Noah took her by the arm and escorted her up the library steps. Phoebe saw Ava and Ruby staring at her and gave them a quick smile as she followed Noah and Daphne.

  Dylan and Julius were waiting at the top of the steps as people gathered for the show. Olivia would be with Maggie, changing into their Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly dresses.

  Daphne stopped at the open front door. “I don’t know what I’m getting worked up about. No one will remember me or give a hoot about meeting a Hollywood costume designer.” She peered inside at the rows of chairs, filling up with people from the town where she’d lived for such a short time. Her great-great-grandfather stared down at the audience from his portrait above the fireplace. “I used to talk to old George’s ghost.”

  “Did he talk back to you?” Dylan asked, taking her other arm. Julius, obviously protective of Daphne, scowled, but Dylan just shrugged. “Fair question.”

  Daphne laughed, visibly more at ease. “In his own way, he definitely talked back to me. My father wasn’t like him at all. That much I know.” She left it at that and pointed into the library at Grace Webster and Audrey Frost, sitting next to each other up front. “They encouraged me when I started tutoring a few kids in French. I could speak the language, but I was no teacher.”

  Phoebe said, “I thought at first whoever created the room had gone to Paris.”

  “I love Paris but Southern California is home.” More tears shone in Daphne’s deep green eyes. “And for a while, so was Knights Bridge. Now go, Phoebe. Do your thing and enjoy every minute.”

  As she excused herself and headed backstage, Noah and Dylan, with Julius right behind them, escorted Daphne into the library. Noah caught Phoebe’s eye and she mouthed, “Thank you.” She looked around for Loretta Wrentham but didn’t see her...until she arrived backstage. The California lawyer—Dylan McCaffrey and Noah Kendrick’s friend—had on a tie-dyed shirt, a fringed vest and wide-legged turquoise pants.

  “I think I wore this outfit in sixth grade,” she said with a grin. “It’s those twin sisters of yours. They could talk a frog into camping out under a cactus.”

  Phoebe burst into laughter, and then Loretta did, too. Daphne Stewart, aka Debbie Sanderson, was living the life she always wanted. Phoebe
realized that her father had, too—that his untimely death didn’t change the fact that his life in Knights Bridge with his wife and four daughters was exactly what he’d wanted.

  She was living the life she wanted, too.

  Except everything had changed when Noah Kendrick swept her onto the dance floor in the Edwardian dress that Daphne Stewart had sewn in her attic room forty years ago.

  * * *

  Daphne Stewart/Debbie Sanderson was greeted like the celebrity she was, on the stage her great-great-grandfather had insisted be included in the small-town library he founded. Noah thought Phoebe was even more beautiful in her princess dress without the mask, the heavy makeup, the black wig—the pretending to be someone else. With her dark strawberry curls falling out of their pins, framing her face, she smiled and laughed among people she knew and loved.

  He sat with Julius, Dylan and Daphne in the row behind Grace Webster. Grace would glance back at Dylan as if he she’d dreamed of having a grandson just like him.

  Maggie and Olivia wowed the crowd with their Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn dresses, and Ava and Ruby O’Dunn had everyone laughing when they did a short skit in their flapper dresses. Their mother modeled a simple, elegant dress that Grace Webster’s mother—Dylan’s great-grandmother—had worn long before the people of the Swift River Valley had realized their towns were doomed.

  Loretta obviously had a grand time showing off her hippie outfit.

  Julius leaned toward Noah and whispered, “That Loretta’s a stitch.”

  Dylan overheard him and just shook his head. Noah didn’t try to hide his amusement. Brandon Sloan was across the aisle with his sons. He looked more comfortable in his own skin, if also more interested in the women in the dresses than the dresses themselves. They were his friends, and one was his wife. Even if he packed up his tent and moved to California, Brandon would still be a part of Knights Bridge.

  It was a warm evening. Noah found himself alone as the after-show party spilled outside onto the lawn and across South Main onto the town common. Daphne had grabbed a glass of wine and was chatting comfortably with Elly O’Dunn.

  He spotted Phoebe under a tall, graceful elm and grabbed two glasses of wine and joined her. She’d slipped off her sandals and was barefoot in the grass. She thanked him as he handed her a glass, but her mind was clearly elsewhere.