She sipped the wine, her gaze on her mother and her former French tutor. “My mother stayed in Knights Bridge and Daphne took off for Hollywood—changed her name, became someone else.”
“Or thought she became someone else,” Noah said.
“It’s what she needed to believe at the time. She wasn’t running from her life here. She was running from her past and its hold on her.” Phoebe turned to him, her eyes almost emerald in the shadows. “Knights Bridge was a stop on the way to becoming who she is now. I’m glad it worked out for her, and I’m glad she’s here tonight. Thank you for making that happen.”
“You did far more than I did.”
He saw spots of color in her cheeks as she smiled. “Ava and Ruby are beside themselves. They’re trying not to get too crazy but they’re so excited to have Daphne here.”
“I think Daphne’s excited, too.”
“People seemed to have a good time tonight. I hope you and Dylan and Julius weren’t too bored.”
“Not bored at all,” Noah said, letting his gaze settle just for a moment on the swell of her breasts in her elegant gown. The spots of color in her cheeks deepened. He smiled. “You did well, Princess Phoebe, and you look beautiful.”
He saw she hadn’t expected his comment. “Thank you,” she said, then quickly drank more wine.
Several people approached Phoebe to comment on the evening. Noah stood back, observing her as she interacted with her family and friends. Elly O’Dunn broke off from Daphne to chase her grandsons, who’d clearly had enough of vintage fashion and partying. Daphne met up with Dylan and Olivia. They got wine and approached him under the elm.
He sipped his wine, knowing that he stood apart from the people around him. Forty years ago Debbie Sanderson had come to Knights Bridge as an outsider. She’d appreciated the welcome she’d received, but ultimately she’d decided she didn’t belong.
Phoebe did, Noah realized. She always would.
In her mind, belonging in Knights Bridge meant living there, being the director of the library, fixing up her little house on Thistle Lane. Any change would seem to her like the drastic break that Daphne had made.
As Phoebe glanced at him with a smile, Noah also saw that she’d convinced herself that he would never want to stay in Knights Bridge and make a place for himself there.
Maybe she was right.
He felt himself go very still as he watched her, and he thought...no. She wasn’t right.
But he couldn’t tell her.
She needed to see it for herself.
* * *
“This could have all gone wrong but it didn’t,” Loretta told Julius as she helped herself to a third glass of wine. They were small glasses. Knights Bridge–size glasses, she thought with a grin. She’d changed back into her regular clothes but kind of missed her hippie outfit. “I had a great time. Were you ever a hippie?”
Julius looked at her as if she’d turned green. “No.”
“Always a button-down type?”
“Always.”
“Now you’re a high-priced private investigator for a high-priced Los Angeles law firm. You went to law school yourself?”
“UCLA. Never took the bar.”
“You went into the military,” Loretta said, because it was what immediately made sense to her.
He nodded. “I lost an uncle in Vietnam. My mother’s brother. Great guy. He was twenty. The baby of the family. It affects you forever, that kind of loss.”
Julius was pensive, no wine for him. They’d promised to take Daphne to Boston tonight and then fly back to L.A. in the morning. She had things to do, she’d said, but Loretta knew she’d needed an exit strategy before she could commit to returning to Knights Bridge. Now the Hollywood designer was mingling with people she’d known forty years ago and hadn’t seen since.
Knights Bridge was a pretty town, small and off the beaten track, but Loretta could see that Dylan was right. Time hadn’t stopped here.
Finally Julius said, “Daphne’s time here in Knights Bridge meant something. It wasn’t just about hiding and then running away. It wasn’t just about her. I hope she sees that now.”
“You’re thinking about Patrick O’Dunn,” Loretta said.
“Yeah.” Julius’s gaze was fixed on Daphne as she approached Phoebe under a big shade tree. His expression tightened. “She wanted me to do it. I told her I couldn’t.”
“Do what?”
“Watch. It’s not easy to tell Daphne no, but this was for her to do.”
He was silent as they watched Daphne hand Phoebe an envelope.
“What is it?” Loretta asked.
“It’s the letter she wrote to Patrick O’Dunn when she got to California. She never mailed it.”
Phoebe opened the envelope and unfolded the note inside. Loretta bit back her impatience. “What’s it say? You read it, right?”
Julius scowled. “You’re such a know-it-all, Loretta. Yeah, I read it.”
“Well?”
He hesitated, obviously debating how much to say. “Daphne tells him she made it to Hollywood and while she doesn’t know what the future will bring, she knows she made the right decision. ‘Thanks to you, Patrick, I’ve finally found my home.’” Julius cleared his throat. “She tells him she’d never have made it to California without him. He helped her find the courage to take the plunge, go after her dream, just because he got up every day and lived his life, did the best he could.”
Loretta choked back tears. “Damn. I think I’m going to cry.”
“Don’t do that,” Julius said with a sudden grin. “The world as we know it really will come to an end.”
Dylan and Olivia chatted with Noah, whose gaze was on Phoebe O’Dunn and only Phoebe O’Dunn. Loretta sighed. “It already has, but it’s okay.”
Julius slung an arm over her shoulders. “It’s more than okay. It’s damn good.”
Twenty-One
Maggie slammed the door behind her as she entered Olivia’s kitchen. After last night’s perfect weather for the fashion show, the temperature had spiked today. It was midafternoon now and over ninety. The humidity level and dew point made it feel even hotter. Because The Farm at Carriage Hill was a getaway, Olivia was installing air-conditioning, but it wasn’t up and running just yet.
Olivia glanced at her from the sink. “You’re all red, Maggie. What have you been doing in this heat?”
“I’m broiling hot and broiling mad.” She raked a hand through her hair, determined not to take her mood out on her friend. “I need to cool off.”
“Why don’t you take the boys up to the mill and jump in the pond? The water’s always cold there.”
Maggie grunted. “I could just dump a tray of ice cubes on Brandon’s head. That’d cool me off.”
Olivia stepped back from the sink, drying her hands with a white dish towel. “I had a feeling your red face had something to do with him. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
Olivia raised her eyebrows.
“I don’t,” Maggie said, adamant. “You deserve a quiet day. Did you see the orange mint Phoebe, Noah and I harvested?”
“It’s drying nicely,” Olivia said, setting the towel on the island. “I also saw the pesto in the freezer.”
“And the dog hair on your couch?” Maggie tried to smile. “Noah’s a pushover when it comes to Buster. You’ve got him back on the straight and narrow?”
“Noah or Buster?”
Maggie saw the smile in Olivia’s eyes but couldn’t relax, couldn’t let go of how mad she was—how upset. She sighed. “Yes. Yes, I want to talk. Or tell you, anyway. Maybe not talk, because there’s nothing to talk about. It is what it is.”
“Do you want to go outside and sit?”
Maggie shook her head and started to pace in the kitchen. It was such an ideal kitchen, in an ell by itself, with great light and lots of cabinets and counters and a warm, country feel. She loved working there.
“Maggie...”
“
I’m sorry. I was thinking about how much I love it here. I love what you’re doing with Carriage Hill.”
“What we’re doing,” Olivia said.
“We do make a good team. This place has such possibilities. I’ve started to dream again, Olivia. I’ve started to have hope in the future. I don’t dwell on the past so much.” She stopped abruptly, stared out the window over the sink and noticed the haze, felt the oppressive heat. “Brandon’s been working nonstop for the past six months. He didn’t tell me.”
“Working for his family?” Olivia asked.
“Mostly. Exclusively now.”
“Is that good or bad?”
Maggie leaned back against the island. “Good, I guess. Good that he’s working. He’s cut expenses to the bone. He’s not living in that damn tent because he’s broke. He’s living there because he’s saving every dime he makes.”
“For what?”
“To prove himself to me.”
“He told you this?”
Maggie snorted. “Are you kidding? He never tells me anything. I had to ferret it out on my own.”
“Meaning you got one of his brothers to tell you,” Olivia said.
“Christopher.” He was the youngest of the six Sloan siblings, one of two full-time firefighters in town. “It didn’t take much doing. He says I need to prove myself to Brandon, too. Me. Like I did something wrong.”
“What are you supposed to prove?”
“That I still want to be with him, regardless of money.”
Olivia picked up her towel again and polished the butcher-block counter. “Christopher said that, huh?”
“Not in those exact words but I got the message.” Maggie suddenly wished she had something to cook. She held up a hand before her friend could interrupt. “I’m not asking you to take a side. I know you have to live in this town and it’s crawling with Sloans. Whatever made me think I could come back here?”
“There are a few O’Dunns here, too,” Olivia said, her tone neutral.
“For how long? Ava and Ruby are going back to school. They’ll end up in Hollywood or New York. And Phoebe. I don’t know where Phoebe will end up. I used to think she’d always be here in Knights Bridge.” Maggie hesitated, glanced toward the mudroom and back door. “Where are Noah and Dylan?”
“They’re up the road talking demolition.”
With Brandon, no doubt. Maggie gritted her teeth. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m crazy and Phoebe’s not going anywhere. She and Noah seemed so good together last night at the fashion show, but she was in that Edwardian dress again. Maybe that makes all the difference.”
“Or getting her out of her Edwardian dress,” Olivia said half under her breath.
“Olivia!”
“Well. Come on. You saw the sparks between those two.”
“Yes, but—” Maggie stopped herself. “I can’t talk about my sister that way. And this is Phoebe. It’s not Ava or Ruby. You know what I mean?”
Olivia nodded. “I do, and maybe that’s part of the problem.”
Maggie suddenly wished she’d brought something to do. Her mother had invited the boys up to the house to make pickles and would drop them off at the library later. Maggie would pick them up there. She hadn’t planned on a project with Olivia, figured it was too soon after her return from San Diego. Too complicated with Noah Kendrick as a houseguest.
And she was too mad at Brandon.
She made herself smile as she changed the subject. “Daphne Stewart is something, isn’t she?”
“She wants to come back to Knights Bridge for a proper stay,” Olivia said. “She only stayed last night because it was all so last-minute and she had to get back to L.A. I also think she wasn’t sure she could handle being back here.”
“It was emotional for her. You could tell. She lived in town for such a short time but it had an impact, on her and on the people she met. She needed a brother, a man she could trust—who wouldn’t beat her up.”
“Your father,” Olivia said.
Maggie nodded, emotional herself. “Daphne helped him but he helped her. He was such a good guy, Liv.”
“I remember.”
“We all lost out when he died, but Phoebe most of all, although I don’t think she and that rat bastard from Orlando were meant for each other. But she’s never really had anyone since then.”
“Maybe that’s because she was waiting for a swashbuckler to sweep her off her feet,” Olivia said with a smile.
Maggie felt her own mood lighten. Sweat trickled down the nape of her neck. “Phoebe’s used to having people need her. Noah doesn’t need her. What does she have to offer a billionaire? She’s not a starlet. She’s...Phoebe.”
“Maybe Noah’s wondering what he has to offer her.”
“A winery, for starters,” Maggie said, partly serious, partly facetious.
Olivia went to the refrigerator and helped herself to a handful of crushed ice. She offered some to Maggie, rubbed her arms with hers. “Maybe Phoebe doesn’t want a winery. Maybe she just wants what she has.”
“That would be my sister,” Maggie said with a sigh. “She’s stubborn, you know. She’ll tell herself she doesn’t want anything but what she already has.”
“Noah took her by surprise, didn’t he?”
“They took each other by surprise. It’s not like Brandon and me. No surprises. I’ve known him my whole life. I know how he thinks. Wouldn’t you think he’d know how I think?”
Olivia watched the ice chips melt on her arm and didn’t answer.
“He can be such an idiot,” Maggie said, back on that train of thought. “What went on between us was never about money.”
“If Brandon wasn’t so thickheaded sometimes, Maggie, you wouldn’t love him so much.” Olivia took her towel, blotted her arm dry. “Maybe you two got into a pattern of thinking that you knew what was going on with the other person—like two halves of one whole instead of two individuals.”
Maggie wasn’t willing to go that far. “I talk.”
“Maybe you both should talk.” Then Olivia added, “To each other.”
“I’m too hot to talk, and when did you get so wise, my friend?” Maggie smiled. “Why don’t we let the guys talk demolition while we go swimming in the millpond?”
Olivia grinned. “I’ll grab my suit.”
“I’ve got one in the van.”
They drove out to the nineteenth-century sawmill the Frosts owned on a tributary to the Swift River. The small millpond and wood-sided mill, now converted into an apartment, were still intact. Maggie shivered just looking at the clear, clean, copper-tinted water. Tyler and Aidan hated swimming here. They preferred the warmer water of their friends’ pools. Maggie thought they might change their minds when they were older, although she didn’t want them to get the cuts and bruises that she, Phoebe and Olivia had swimming out here growing up. Like their nephews, Ava and Ruby had never been big on plunging themselves into ice-cold water.
Maggie sat on a sun-warmed boulder and dipped her feet into the water, then pulled them right out. “It didn’t seem this cold when we were kids.”
Olivia laughed. “It did, too. We were just oblivious.”
They eased into the water, each finding a rock to stand on as they got used to the chilly temperature. Maggie shut her eyes, appreciating the contrast between the waist-down cold and the waist-up heat. She remembered sneaking out here on a moonlit night with Brandon, back in the days when it felt like anything was possible.
She opened her eyes and realized Olivia was looking at her with concern. “I’m okay.” She smiled before she could burst into tears. “It’s a perfect day to be out here, isn’t it?”
“Perfect.”
The pond was only five feet at its deepest. As she lowered herself into the water, getting wet up to her neck, Maggie listened to the flow of the brook over the stone dam. Olivia splashed her, and Maggie splashed her back. They shrieked with laughter as if they were twelve again.
Maggie ducked her head unde
rwater but popped up almost immediately. “Whoa, that’s refreshing,” she said. “I think I have goose bumps.”
Olivia eased back up onto their sunny boulder. “Don’t get hypothermia,” she said.
Maggie splashed her. “Just like you to bring up hypothermia.”
Olivia pointed at her. “Purple lips, shivering, goose bumps. You tell me.”
“All right, all right.” Maggie climbed up onto another boulder and stretched out her legs. She had purple-blue knees, too. She reached for a towel on the stone wall—of course Olivia had remembered towels—and draped one over her legs. “It’s still hot as blazes.”
“It won’t be for long.” Olivia nodded up at dark clouds looming above the trees to the west. “Looks like a storm’s headed our way.”
“That does look nasty,” Maggie said. “I guess we’re done playing hooky for the afternoon.”
She dried off as best she could and slipped back into her shorts and T-shirt. Olivia did the same. Thunder rumbled in the distance, the kind of low, deep, rolling thunder that suggested a strong storm was bearing down on them.
They headed to the parking lot by the much newer Frost Millworks building. Dylan was there, getting out of his car. “We’re not going anywhere right now. Knights Bridge is under a severe thunderstorm warning.”
Maggie shook her head. “I have to pick up the boys at the library. I’ve driven in loads of storms—”
“Not like this one. I’ve seen the radar.”
“We can duck into the mill,” Olivia said. “Where’s Noah?”
“And Brandon,” Maggie added. “He’s not in that stupid tent, is he?”
“They’re at Carriage Hill,” Dylan said.
They hurried up to the mill. No one else was there late on a Sunday afternoon. Maggie used the phone in the small front office and tried calling the library but no one picked up. Her mother would have dropped off the boys by now but Maggie called her just to be sure.
“I dropped them off twenty minutes ago,” her mother said. “Phoebe’s there alone. We get thunderstorm warnings all the time, Maggie. It’ll be okay.”
That Night on Thistle Lane Page 26
