Cider Brook

by Unknown

  No ex-husband for her. No daughters, either.

  Loretta knew more about Hollywood and Beverly Hills from watching movies and television than she did from living in Southern California.

  “This Samantha Bennett is sophisticated and smart,” Julius said.

  “Irresistible is the word Duncan used. He meant it in a fatherly way.”

  “Want me to look into the Bennetts?”

  Loretta thought a moment. “Not yet.”

  “Anything I should know about the Sloans?”

  “There are a lot of them, and they’re doing the construction on Dylan’s house and barn out there.” A barn, she thought. Dylan was building a damn barn. She grabbed her coffee cup. “You met a bunch of Sloans when we were out there with Daphne.”

  Daphne Stewart, aka Debbie Henderson. Maybe it was the other way around, since she’d been born Debbie Henderson. She was a costume designer in Hollywood who’d fled Knights Bridge as a teenager.

  “I remember Brandon Sloan,” Julius said. “He’s married to one of the O’Dunn sisters.”

  “Maggie.”

  “Right. The caterer. Phoebe’s the eldest. The twins are the youngest. Ruby and Ava. The theater majors.” Julius reached out and plucked a dried leaf off one of the plants in the lush greenery along the edge of the terrace. “Their mother raises goats. What do you think Noah’s going to do about the goats?”

  “Nothing. They’re not his goats.”

  “That’s what I’d do. Nothing. Not a damn thing.”

  Loretta had no idea why they were talking about the O’Dunns and goats. That was Julius. His mind pinged from one thing to another, and he could talk about anything. “It’s good to see Noah happy and in love. For years, all he’s thought about is this high-tech stuff. Math equations or whatever. Women have thrown themselves at him because of his money, but Phoebe...”

  “Phoebe’s a special woman,” Julius said.

  Loretta nodded, picturing Phoebe O’Dunn with her long strawberry curls, turquoise eyes and sweet smile. At first she’d struck Loretta as shy and a little wishy-washy, but she was smart, kind and strong, secure in who she was—she didn’t need Noah and his bazillions to create an identity for her.

  Julius was frowning from across the table. “You tearing up, Loretta?”

  She scowled at him. “No. I am not tearing up, Julius.”

  He grinned. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic, but you are.”

  “Nothing wrong with being a romantic.” She jumped to her feet, restless, out of sorts. “This is the first time in two years that I’ve wanted a cigarette. Last time was when Duncan died. I quit smoking a million years ago, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want a cigarette every now and then.”

  “I bet Dylan and Noah are usually involved when you do.”

  “True.” She sighed, rubbing her fingertips on a glossy, pointed leaf of something. She’d never been good at remembering the names of plants. “Dylan listened to all my advice, but he only heeded about a tenth of it.”

  Julius shrugged, standing next to her. “If he’d heeded more, he wouldn’t have been sleeping in his car when Noah knocked on his window and asked him to come work at NAK with him. Think of the millions they’ve both earned because Dylan didn’t take all your advice.”

  “That’s twisted logic, Julius.”

  “Maybe.” He hooked an arm around her and drew her close. “You have to make peace with whatever Duncan McCaffrey was to you, Loretta. It’ll eat you alive if you don’t.”

  “Samantha Bennett’s a schemer.”

  “That’s a leap, don’t you think? And Dylan can handle her.”

  “I know, but I hope he doesn’t hold it against me because I didn’t tell him about her sooner. It didn’t occur to me since she’d gone on her way. I haven’t kept tabs on her. No reason.”

  “Go, Loretta. Meet Samantha Bennett and see for yourself that all is well.” Julius kissed her on the forehead and whispered, “Make your peace with Duncan’s ghost.”

  “Julius—”

  “No. Not now. Go to Knights Bridge and then come back and we’ll have wine.”

  Loretta nodded and left without another word, her throat tight as she went back inside, packed, dragged her overnight bag out to her car and started the drive south to La Jolla. Julius was right. She couldn’t share the same space with him right now. She needed to get her head together and decide what came next in her life.

  * * *

  Julius was still out on his terrace, contemplating Loretta and how crazy he was about her, when he heard someone on the spiral stairs up from the street. Then came the familiar voice of Daphne Stewart. “Knock, knock.” She waved a hand at him as she stepped onto the terrace. “Don’t get up.”

  “Good morning, Daphne.” He pushed out a chair across the table from him with one foot. “Have a seat. What brings you out here?”

  “GPS. I’d have gotten lost without it. The streets over here are a maze.”

  She plopped down as if she’d walked a hundred miles instead of driven a few. She lived in a bungalow decorated with the artistic flair she’d demonstrated during her brief stay in Knights Bridge as a teenager, dreaming of the life she’d come to live as a Hollywood costume designer. She was a petite woman in her sixties, copper-haired and elegant. Over the summer, Julius had helped her figure out that Dylan McCaffrey and Noah Kendrick’s interest in Knights Bridge had nothing to do with her. In the process, she’d decided to reconnect with her past and had returned to the little town a few weeks ago for what she’d insisted would be a one-time visit. Julius hadn’t been so sure.

  “I want to go back to Knights Bridge,” she announced.

  There it was. He shrugged. “Nothing stopping you.”

  “There isn’t, is there? All my secrets are out. No one ever cared except me. I had to change my name, wipe the dust of my past off my feet and start fresh.” She sank back in her chair. “Oh, Julius. What a life I’ve lived.”

  “And are still living, Daphne.”

  “Yes. Right. Of course. I don’t have a dread disease or anything. I’m healthy as can be.” She leaned forward, forearms on the table. She had on bracelets and rings, all eye-catching but all in good taste. “I’ve stayed in touch with the O’Dunn twins. Ava and Ruby.”

  “The theater majors.”

  “That’s right. We’re talking about doing something theater related in Knights Bridge.”

  “You mean like Shakespeare?”

  “Could be. More likely a master class on costume design to start. Maybe something with children. We’ve got lots of ideas.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re great young women, Ava and Ruby, and it would be fun. I’d forgotten how lovely Knights Bridge is, and it’s not far from Amherst and Northampton, or from Boston. Who knows where this could lead.”

  Julius picked up his coffee, remembered it was cold and set it back down again. Daphne was great, but she wasn’t exactly low maintenance. “Are you thinking of relocating?” he asked her.

  She didn’t hesitate. “Oh, no. No, no. I couldn’t take a New England winter again.”

  “You like being a local celebrity,” Julius said, grinning at her.

  “You’re a horrible man, Julius Hartley. I don’t care anything about celebrity, and you, of all people, should know it.” She fingered one of her big rings. “I’d like to help Ava and Ruby if I can. I had no help when I started.”

  “Things worked out. Maybe it’s better that way.”

  “Well, whatever, I think it’d be fun, and I want to do it if I can.”

  Julius really wished he had hot coffee. “Why tell me? Just buy a plane ticket and go.”

  “I was wondering about Noah Kendrick and Phoebe O’Dunn....” Daphne looked awkward, a rare state for her. “And about Dylan McCaffrey and Olivia Frost. I don’t want them to think I’m doing this to curry favor with them, or that I want to ask them for money. Anything like that.”

  “Ah. They’re rich. They probably
get hit up for money all the time.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  Julius could see how uncomfortable Daphne felt. “You can’t control what other people assume. You know that, Daphne. You can only control what you do.”

  “And sometimes barely that,” she said half under her breath. “What about you and Knights Bridge?”

  He shuddered. “There is no me and Knights Bridge.”

  Daphne eyed him knowingly. “Loretta is like a second mother to Noah and Dylan.”

  “In her head, maybe. I’m neutral about Knights Bridge.” It was close enough to the truth, Julius thought, flicking a small leaf off the table onto the deck. “I don’t care if I see it again or if I don’t see it again, or if Noah and Dylan or one or the other make a home there. Irrelevant to my life.”

  “Do you ever think about retiring?”

  “I am right now with you going on and on.”

  She waved a hand at him. “Be serious.”

  “I can’t afford to retire yet.”

  “Can Loretta?”

  “I don’t know. Ask her if you want.”

  “Do you think she’ll move East?”

  “And what, help you open a children’s theater in Sleepy Hollow?” Julius grinned at the thought. “Loretta is a hard-nosed lawyer, Daphne. She knows more about ice hockey than she does about theater.”

  Daphne pointed a bejeweled finger at him. “Ha. I’m right. You and Loretta are an item. I knew I saw something between you two on our trip East. Have you told your daughters?”

  “Told them what? I’m seeing a lawyer from San Diego? So what?”

  “You’re serious about her. I can see it in your eyes.” Daphne swept to her feet. “Just don’t be a fool, Julius, okay? You’re good at finding out things about people, but that doesn’t mean you’re good at knowing someone’s heart, including your own.”

  He stared up at her from his seat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He held up a hand. “Don’t explain. Did the O’Dunn twins mention anything about treasure hunters?”

  “Treasure hunters? You mean like Dylan’s father?”

  “For starters.”

  “I can find out—”

  “Don’t find out. Don’t do anything.” Julius tried to keep any sharpness out of his tone, but he’d learned to be direct with Daphne. “What about a local guy named Justin Sloan? Ava and Ruby mention him?”

  “Only their brother-in-law, Brandon Sloan.” She frowned at him, obviously curious. “Why? Do you want me to ask?”

  “Don’t ask. Forget I mentioned him. When were you thinking about going back to Knights Bridge?”

  “I might go this fall for a quick trip, but we wouldn’t be able to do anything until spring at the earliest. Ava and Ruby will be graduating. Well. We’ll see.” Daphne smiled, kissed him on the cheek. “Always a pleasure, Julius. See you soon.”

  She glided down the stairs. Julius watched her, realizing Loretta didn’t glide. She consumed ground when she walked. She was an exhausting woman. Maybe that was what Daphne, who hardly knew Loretta, had picked up on.

  If so, no argument from him.

  Fifteen

  Samantha was almost to the library when she decided she’d had her fill of walking Knights Bridge’s back roads, at least for a while. She was ready to toss her backpack into the nearest trash bin and call a cab.

  Not much farther, she told herself. She could see the library just ahead, on the corner of South Main Street and a narrow side street. She would hide out in a quiet spot, catch her breath, see what she could find out about Zeke and Henrietta of 1915 Knights Bridge and decide what to do next about her own life. She had outlined options in her head while trying not to think about Justin and the mess she was in, simply because she had ventured to his town in the snow a little over two years ago and hadn’t told anyone.

  Of course, it wasn’t quite that simple.

  She should have known better, given that her decision to keep quiet had involved Harry Bennett and a long-dead pirate, both of whom had lived complicated lives.

  Complicated lives that had now complicated her life.

  Except she had no one to blame for her decisions except herself.

  She slowed as she came to a patch of shade under an old maple tree and recognized Maggie Sloan loading a crate into the back of her van, parked in front of a small “gingerbread” house.

  “Well, good morning, Samantha,” Maggie said, red hair flying as she stood straight.

  Samantha eased her backpack off her sore shoulders. “Morning.”

  Maggie’s smile turned to a wince. “Uh-oh. You’ve got the look that says you’ve just had a run-in with a Sloan.”

  “Do I?”

  “I had that same look for months when Brandon and I were on the skids. Now it’s only from time to time. The Sloans are good at building things and putting out fires and such. You want one of them around when it’s your house being built or you’re in an emergency, but subtlety isn’t in their nature. Every last one of them should have ‘blunt as hell’ as their middle name.” She shut the van doors. “You don’t look daunted, though.”

  “It’s my own fault. I wasn’t as forthcoming as I should have been—”

  “You worked for Duncan McCaffrey. I heard. My mother met him on one of his visits to town. I never did.”

  “I thought it would be easier for everyone if I didn’t mention our history.” Samantha rubbed her stiff right shoulder. “I was a bit rattled after the fire, but it’s no excuse.”

  “Are you kidding? It’s a damn good excuse.” Maggie tightened her long, flowing sweater around her. “You don’t seem like trouble, Samantha. You seem more like someone on a mission. A personal mission. Maybe you’re telling yourself it’s professional, but it’s not, is it?”

  “In my world, the lines between professional and personal can get blurry before you know it.” She picked up her backpack. “You’ve got a wedding to put on. I won’t keep you.”

  “Will you be staying in town a while longer?” Maggie asked.

  “Not if your Sloan brother-in-law can help it.”

  The words were out before Samantha could take them back. Maggie gave her a knowing look, but Samantha said goodbye and continued on her way. She’d been too impulsive in coming to Knights Bridge. She should have had contingency plans. A damn car.

  But how could she have planned for a fire—or for Justin Sloan?

  The Knights Bridge public library was located in a solid Victorian stone-and-brick building with its own grand piano, a small stage, a fireplace, an imposing oil portrait of its founder and all sorts of nooks and crannies. Samantha settled into a quiet corner in a small reading room on the main floor and immersed herself in finding out more about the Hazelton family, early settlers of Knights Bridge and the original owners of the country store and Justin’s cider mill. She quickly discovered that the library was a treasure trove of information on the history of the town and the Swift River Valley. There was also a local historical society, headquartered in one of the oldest houses in the village.

  She felt more at ease. Musty books, archives, old photographs—this was a world she knew well and could navigate with confidence, without second-guessing herself.

  Unlike navigating the loyalties and suspicions of the people in a small town.

  She got to work, losing herself in the history of one family. In a little over an hour, she discovered that the Hazeltons had settled in Knights Bridge in the 1740s, three decades before the American Revolution. They became farmers along Cider Brook and a small spring-fed pond—the same parcel of land where, in 1874, their descendants built a prosperous cider mill. In 1915 the family opened the general store that became a town institution.

  Now, another century later, not a single Hazelton resided in Knights Bridge.

  Samantha didn’t discover so much as a hint of any Hazelton family association with Benjamin Farraday as a semirespectable privateer or, later, a wanted pirate. At least not in Knight
s Bridge. She supposed the two parties could have met prior to the Hazeltons’ arrival in town. She didn’t know where they had originated.

  That was a question for another day. She could dig up more information—births, deaths, marriages—but she didn’t know what that would accomplish, and in the meantime, she needed a break. She collected her backpack and headed outside. It was sunny, brisk and beautiful, but she opted against a sandwich on the common. She decided to try Smith’s, the only restaurant in the Knights Bridge village.

  As she crossed the street to the common, she glanced around, in case a Sloan was watching her, but she didn’t see anyone. She was on her own, and that was just fine with her.

  * * *

  Smith’s was already filling up with locals when Samantha arrived at the converted 1920s house just off the town common. Its wide front porch was decorated with magenta-colored mums and hanging baskets of deep pink geraniums, still vibrant in late September. She sat in a small booth at the far end of the main dining room, where she could see everyone but wouldn’t be easily spotted herself.

  Her waitress, a stout, cheerful middle-aged woman who didn’t appear to be a Sloan, recommended the turkey club. Samantha went with it and coffee, figuring she needed sustenance after her encounter with Justin, her hike into town and her research at the library. She also had no idea what she would be doing the rest of the day, or where she would be sleeping tonight. Not, she thought, at Carriage Hill.

  Her coffee arrived first. She sipped it as she dug out her documents pouch. She’d jotted down notes on the Hazeltons in her newly returned journal but would look at them later. Her eye was drawn to a passage in the anonymous story of the kidnapped aristocratic Lady Elizabeth and her worldly pirate captor.