Cider Brook

by Unknown

  Julius had been singularly unsympathetic. “Knights Bridge isn’t on Mars, Loretta. It’s not even in a different country. It’s a plane ride from La Jolla. That’s it.”

  It felt like Mars.

  She called him when she reached her room, about three seconds before the skies opened up. She’d never seen such rain. She paced in front of her window that looked out toward the river, marveling at the lights, the rain, the people running through puddles. It was so different from home and her view of her pool, her garden, the Pacific.

  Her throat tightened as she gripped the phone. “I’m a coward, Julius.”

  “Getting cold feet about driving to Knights Bridge?”

  “Frozen feet. It’s all I can do not to get on a plane back to California tonight.”

  “Do it, then. There’s nothing to stop you.”

  She sighed, sinking onto the bed. “You’re calling my bluff, aren’t you?”

  “I’m trying to help.”

  “I know you are. Thank you. My conscience tells me I have to do this.”

  “Your obsessive-compulsive nature is telling you, you mean. Your conscience is clear, Loretta. You didn’t do anything to hurt Duncan, Dylan, Samantha Bennett or anyone else, and you’ve told Dylan all you know. Right?”

  Loretta was silent as she paused in front of the window, staring down at a line of cars, their headlights glowing in the pouring rain.

  Julius wasn’t giving up. “Loretta? I’m right, yes?”

  “Yes, Julius.” She could hear the irritation and impatience in her voice and softened it. “I’m sorry. It’s not you. I’m just— Yes, you’re right. My conscience is clear.”

  It was his turn to hesitate. “You didn’t hurt Duncan during his last days in this life. Your head knows that, but your heart doesn’t. That’s why you’re out there. You need for your heart to know it, too. Damn. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.”

  She frowned at her phone. “What do they put in the water up where you live? Head versus heart. Where did that come from? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m empathizing.”

  “Don’t empathize. I appreciate your thoughts. I do.”

  “You just need me to listen,” he said. “Okay, when you want to talk, I’ll be here, and I’ll listen.”

  “Thanks.” It came out sullen and curt, but she didn’t try to correct it. He would understand. That was the thing about him. He got her in a way no other man in her life ever had. “I’m erratic right now. I admit it. What have you been up to?”

  He seized on the slight change in subject. “Daphne wants to go back to Knights Bridge and do something with the O’Dunn twins.”

  “Phoebe’s twin sisters. Does she want you to go with her?”

  “She’d like her own entourage if she could get one, but she’d never put it that way. She and the twins think a master class might be a good start.”

  Loretta sat on the edge of her bed, kicking off her shoes. “A master class in what? Costume design?”

  “She says she could do one on a variety of topics.”

  “Are you thinking about going with her?”

  “She’s asked me to. I told her I don’t like New England winters. The only snow I want to see is on a ski slope in Utah. I like Southern California winters. She says the trip probably won’t happen until spring, anyway.”

  “Then she’s serious?”

  “So she says. Daphne tends to do whatever she puts her mind to. She says once she figures out what she wants, everything else becomes clear. Things start showing up in her life to make it possible. Maybe that’s your problem. You don’t know what you want.”

  “I don’t think like that. I just get up in the morning and do what I have to do.”

  “Maybe it’s time to try a different approach and think about what you want, beyond checking things off your to-do list. What will make you happy, Loretta?”

  “Getting off this phone call,” she said with a grin.

  He laughed. “Good night. Sleep well. Think of me.”

  He’d just made it impossible not to think of him.

  * * *

  By morning, Loretta had her route to Knights Bridge plugged into her GPS, her phone charged and a bottle of water for the road. She bundled up in the warmest sweater that fit under her leather jacket. It was cold but not as wet and dreary as last night. For sure she would have seasonal affective disorder if she lived out here.

  As she got on the road, she felt less jet-lagged, less erratic. She’d been weepy after hanging up with Julius. Weepy. Her. She didn’t get lost on her way to Storrow Drive. She kept her eyes glued to the signs pointing west and concentrated on her driving—didn’t let her mind drift to Duncan and the past or Dylan and Noah and the future, didn’t get distracted by the passing scenery.

  The landscape opened up the farther west she drove. The changing leaves against the clearing sky were nothing short of breathtaking. She slowed, pulling into the right lane and allowing herself a moment to take in a freshwater marsh surrounded by trees with bright red leaves that reflected in the still water. She’d never been in the Northeast during “leaf peeping” season.

  “Stunning,” she said aloud.

  She cheered up, more herself, more hopeful that this trip wouldn’t be a disaster after all. When she started onto the winding road into Knights Bridge, the scenery became too incredible to ignore. She pulled over on a ridge overlooking what she assumed was Quabbin Reservoir in the valley below and got out of her car. She walked down a gravel path to a rock outcropping, hugging her jacket and sweater to her as she gazed at the quiet waters and the surrounding hills and islands, vibrant with autumn color.

  A cold wind blew across the ridge. Loretta shuddered, wishing she’d bought that parka already. She realized there were no houses, no people, in the beautiful drowned valley and imagined what it must have been like standing in this spot a hundred years earlier, looking down at a picturesque New England village. Dana, Prescott, Enfield, Greenwich. She knew the names of the lost towns but not which one she would be looking at now.

  Knights Bridge was a picturesque New England village. Would it be what it was now if Winsor Dam and Goodnough Dike hadn’t been built? If the three branches of the Swift River had been left to wind through the valley, en route to the Chicopee River and eventually the Connecticut River and the Atlantic Ocean?

  Dylan hadn’t come here just to see about the property his father had left him and to clean up the yard for a frustrated neighbor—Olivia Frost, the woman he was now set to marry. He’d come to Knights Bridge to get closer to his deceased father. Perhaps that was why she was here now. To get closer to Duncan and what they had meant to each other for those weeks before his death.

  And, finally, to let him rest in peace.

  She hadn’t been the one who had died in Portugal a little over two years ago. He had, suddenly, and far too soon.

  His death wasn’t her fault.

  She watched some kind of bird float high above the reservoir. A big bird. A bald eagle, maybe. She smiled even as she blinked back tears, weepy again. Last night, alone in her Boston hotel room, she’d acknowledged that part of her resented Samantha Bennett because she’d gotten to be with Duncan during his last weeks, if not his final days. What if the stress of dealing with Samantha had tipped the scales for Duncan and ultimately done him in?

  “I should have left well enough alone,” Loretta said aloud.

  The eagle—it had to be an eagle—disappeared into the endless expanse of wilderness. She got back into her rented car and cranked up the heat as she continued into Knights Bridge village. She didn’t linger. She turned onto the road off the town green that led out to Carriage Hill Road and Grace Webster’s old place.

  Despite Dylan’s updates, when Loretta pulled into the driveway, she was surprised to see how much had been completed on the house and barn he and Olivia were building. She parked behind a Sloan & Sons van and got out. It wasn’t as cold and windy here as out
on the open ridge, but it wasn’t balmy, either. Everything was still dripping from last night’s rain. She just missed stepping in a puddle as she took in the activity. Men working with hammers, saws and drills. A young woman with her hands on her hips as she had it out with an older man. Her uncle Pete, from what Loretta could gather. Something about keeping proper records.

  Uncle Pete said, “Got it, Heather,” waved her off and went back to the house he was helping to build.

  What a spot, Loretta thought, taking in the rolling fields and old stone walls. They’d left most of the established shade trees from old Grace’s days on the property.

  Dylan walked down from the construction trailer. Loretta managed to grin at him. “I should have brought a wool hat and mittens. Damn, it’s cold.”

  “Not by Knights Bridge standards.” He took her hand and kissed her on the cheek. “How are you, Loretta? It’s good to see you.”

  “I’ve been worse. Good to see you, too. What are you doing, getting in the way of the carpenters?”

  He smiled. “I try not to get underfoot too much. I just met with Justin Sloan, the contractor.”

  “Our volunteer firefighter who rescued Samantha Bennett. She’s still in town, right?”

  “She stayed with us again last night.”

  “Guess you’re not worried about her stealing the china. Look, I don’t have to stay with you and Olivia.”

  Dylan sidestepped the deep puddle that had almost claimed her. “You do if you want to be in Knights Bridge and don’t want to pitch a tent. There’s a bed-and-breakfast that’s almost never open, and that’s it.”

  “The idea is to drive through town and keep on going?”

  “I don’t know that many people drive through Knights Bridge. It’s a small town on the edge of a protected reservoir. Off the beaten track.”

  “But beautiful and not as out of touch with the rest of the world as appearances might otherwise suggest.” Loretta sighed, not quite sure she believed the out-of-touch part. “Where is Samantha now?”

  “Up the road at Justin’s old cider mill that almost burned down.”

  “Why?”

  “Something to do with pirates, I think.”

  Loretta was spared having to respond when a tall, achingly good-looking man emerged from the trailer and joined them. Justin Sloan. She remembered him from her first visit to Knights Bridge, although they’d exchanged maybe four words. Not a big talker, she’d thought then. But get caught in a fire, she’d want him to rescue her.

  Dylan started to introduce them, but she stuck out her half-frozen hand. “Loretta Wrentham. Good to see you again, Justin.”

  “Welcome back,” he said, then turned to Dylan. “I’m off. Catch you later.”

  Loretta waited as Justin headed to a dusty-gray truck and climbed in. In thirty seconds, he was rattling up the narrow road. “Not one for small talk, is he?”

  “I think he’s taken with Samantha,” Dylan said.

  “I can’t imagine a weirder match.”

  “Except for you and Julius Hartley?”

  Loretta frowned at him. “What do you know about Julius and me?”

  “What do I need to know?”

  “Nothing. It’s none of your business.”

  Dylan grinned. “Were you outspoken as a kid, or did law school teach you?”

  “Working with you all these years forced me to speak my mind. You can’t beat around the bush with you. Your head’s too damn thick. Hockey players.”

  “Fair point.” He turned serious. “You and my father were a case of might-have-been, Loretta. Don’t let that stop you from enjoying your life now.”

  “Think that’s why I’m here?”

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  “This treasure hunter—”

  “We can handle Samantha and whatever she’s up to.”

  “Maybe I can help. You have time to drive with me to this cider mill? I’d like to meet her.”

  He glanced at her rental, then back at her. “We’ll take my car.”

  * * *

  Loretta glanced out the window as Dylan navigated a curve on the winding road—what other kind was there in this town?—out to the cider mill. “All the roads look the same around here with the trees,” she said, just observing, not meaning to be critical.

  “You start to notice subtle differences.”

  “Like what?”

  “The stream was on the left side of the road and now it’s on the right.”

  She glanced sideways at him. “You’re not trying to be funny, are you?”

  He grinned. “Come on, Loretta. It’s a great little town. You won’t find one prettier. Admit Knights Bridge is growing on you.”

  “It is nice. I could see having a country place here. Not me. A lawyer in Boston or something.” She looked out the window again, swore she saw a rabbit hopping into the woods. Maybe it had been a woodchuck. “Your father never planned to live here, but I wonder if he might have changed his mind had he lived. I’m glad he got to meet Grace.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “How’s she doing? How was the wedding? Is Carriage Hill up to being a wedding venue?”

  Dylan filled her in, his affection for Grace—his grandmother—and his gratitude at having this chance to be a part of her life obvious. If anything, his love for Olivia had deepened. Loretta had never seen him this settled, this at peace with himself. Yet, at the same time, he was also as driven as ever, focused on his adventure travel business, the entrepreneurship seminars he and Noah had been talking about. Focused on the future, Loretta thought. A future centered here, in Knights Bridge, even if San Diego remained a part of his life and became a part of Olivia’s life.

  They pulled in behind Justin’s truck on the edge of a dirt road.

  “I don’t see the mill,” Loretta said.

  “We walk in from here,” Dylan said. “There’s a driveway, but it’s barely passable.”

  “Oh, great. I’m glad I had the foresight not to wear high heels out here.” Her pricey ankle boots weren’t much better. “I can’t imagine what an old cider mill has to do with pirate’s treasure. By the way, the Bennetts are arriving in Knights Bridge today, apparently en masse. They’re renting a cabin. Did you know?”

  Dylan clearly hadn’t known. “This could get interesting.” He nodded to her door. “Go on. It’s a short walk to the cider mill. Watch for puddles and slippery patches in the mud.”

  “What about you?”

  “I have a conference call with Noah and a couple of bean counters in twenty minutes.”

  “And you’re just going to leave me out here in the woods?”

  He grinned at her. “As fun as I know that would be for you, Loretta, no. Justin can give you a ride back to Carriage Hill.”

  “I’ll try not to piss him off, then,” she said, hopping out of the truck and landing in the mud up past her toes. She stepped out of Dylan’s way and was positive he was laughing out loud as he turned around and headed back toward Carriage Hill.

  Twenty-Four

  With the rain ended, Samantha had walked to the cider mill from Carriage Hill, enjoying the brisk air. The rest of the week promised to be clear and sunny. It would be good weather in Boston, too. She’d left her backpack at Carriage Hill but didn’t expect to stay there tonight. She snapped one last picture of the cider mill to compare to the old photographs at the Swift River Country Store and the painting in her grandfather’s office. First Justin had arrived, saying little as he went past her into the mill. He seemed to be a man with a purpose, but that was always the case.

  Last night, replaying every word, every gesture, of their days together, Samantha was convinced he knew something about the background of his mill that he wasn’t letting on. Something to do with Zeke and Henrietta, maybe.

  Five minutes after Justin arrived, Loretta Wrentham had picked her way through the puddles on the driveway and introduced herself. She was taken with the mill and its surroundings, more so, apparently, than she ha
d ever anticipated. Samantha liked her immediately.

  Loretta was standing on the stone step, peeking inside. “All this old, dry wood. A wonder this place didn’t burn to the ground.” She shuddered, glancing back at Samantha. “And you were half dead on the floor?”

  Samantha held her phone tight in her hand. “I dropped low to avoid the smoke from the fire.”

  “Fires scare the hell out of me. What does a nineteenth-century cider mill have to do with your eighteenth-century pirate?”

  “Probably nothing.”

  “Probably. A devil of a word, isn’t it?” Loretta jumped down from the step. Although she wasn’t dressed perfectly for the conditions, she managed in her slim pants, leather jacket, silky scarf and urban ankle boots, and she certainly wasn’t intimidated. She brushed bits of rainwater and wood chips off her manicured hands. “Is your interest in the cider mill a late development, or was it on your radar when you came to Knights Bridge to check out what Duncan was up to?”

  “I hid here in a storm. I never said I came here specifically about the mill or—”

  “Samantha. I’m a lawyer. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me, so don’t worry, okay?”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Good.” Loretta shivered. “It’s chilly, isn’t it? Refreshing, I guess. By the way, I checked out your grandfather’s house in Boston last night and overheard two of your cousins. Eloisa and...I didn’t get the other one’s name. A girl. Maybe twelve.”

  “Ann,” Samantha said, sliding her phone into her jacket pocket. “The oldest two are boys. Isaac and Keith.”

  “Four kids. Heavens. The girls indicated they’re heading to Knights Bridge later today. Did I hear that right?”

  Samantha nodded. “I’m still wrapping my head around that one.”

  Justin materialized in the mill door, then stepped out. “They’re renting our cabin.” He pulled the door shut behind him, snapping on the padlock. “We rent it out sometimes. It’s on a pond down the field across from the house. One night.”

  Samantha hadn’t mentioned her family’s impending arrival to him, but he hadn’t said anything, either. He didn’t seem at all offended or put out. Just matter-of-fact. But, she was learning, she didn’t always know what he was thinking. “I wasn’t sure how long they planned to stay,” she said. “One night sounds about right for my father. He gets stir-crazy easily. My cousins can play board games for hours on end.” She smiled. “The very idea gives my father hives.”