“We use only fresh goat’s milk, not powdered,” Maggie said. “Soap making involves a range of my interests. Cooking, gardening, aromatherapy—and my mother’s goats, I guess. They’ve grown on me, finally. Each batch of our soap is handmade. I like that. We leave in the glycerin. A lot of commercial soap makers remove it because they can sell it.”
“It’s an ingredient in nitroglycerin,” Noah said.
She wasn’t that amused. “Glycerin is a natural humectant. Goat’s milk is very mild. A lot of people with sensitive skin swear by it because it has a pH level that’s close to that of our skin.”
“So that explains my baby-soft skin,” Brandon Sloan said, climbing over a stone wall into the garden. “I’ve been using the soap in Olivia’s upstairs shower.”
Maggie wasn’t that amused by her husband, either, but Noah could see Phoebe holding back a smile. He kept his mouth shut.
“Where are the boys?” Brandon asked.
“With a couple of their friends. I’m picking them up for lunch.” Maggie stepped onto the terrace, her enthusiasm for talking about mint harvesting and soap making on the wane.
Maggie immediately headed back into the kitchen.
Phoebe turned to Noah. “Just leave the mint in the back room, out of any sunlight. It’ll be fine.” She smiled. “Or it won’t be fine and we’ll toss it into the compost bin. Anyway, I should go. I have to be at the library soon.”
“Weren’t you two planning a picnic lunch?” Brandon asked mildly. “You know Maggie. She’s always got food figured out.”
Phoebe scowled at him. “Our morning didn’t go quite as planned.”
He shrugged. “You could always leave the food for your poor starving brother-in-law.”
“It’s still in the van,” Phoebe said, as if that explained everything.
She glanced at Noah, then left without another word.
Noah stepped onto the stone terrace. He didn’t know if he should follow Phoebe out to her sister’s van and see them off—or if he was supposed to take her retreat as her wish that he stay away. Dylan would know. Noah had no illusions that he was particularly good at figuring out what people were trying to say. Much easier if they just said it.
Brandon picked up stray mint leaves off the terrace table. They heard the van start up out front. “Fast exit,” he said.
“Time got away.”
“Yeah. That must be it. Did you just spend the morning picking mint?”
“I walked Buster, too.”
The big dog opened one eye from his spot under the table, as if he knew that life was rough for his dog sitter.
Brandon grinned. “Time to go back to San Diego?”
Noah didn’t answer as he went into the kitchen, grabbed two beers out of the refrigerator and brought them outside. “It’s now officially after noon and I have nothing to do, so I can have a beer. If you’re on the job—”
“I’m not. I’m taking the afternoon off. Maggie’s dropping off Aidan and Tyler after lunch. We’re hiking up Carriage Hill, then camping out at Dylan’s place.” Brandon uncapped his beer. “Maggie’s giving them instructions on spotting deer ticks. She’s paranoid about Lyme disease. I guess that makes sense.”
“I hadn’t thought about Lyme disease,” Noah said, then grinned. “Now I will.”
“Going out of your mind in our little town?”
“It’s only been a few days. I can do anything for a few days, but I’ve discovered that Knights Bridge is more complex than it might seem at first, despite the absence of traffic lights.”
“I used to think it’s isolated. It’s really not. It’s just small. It does help to have a driver’s license if you’re going to live here.” Brandon dragged out a chair and sat down heavily, as if suddenly he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “You and NAK—did you ever expect it to take off, get as big as it did?”
“I worked toward that. It’s the outcome I wanted.”
“There were setbacks?”
“Inevitably.” When Brandon seemed to be looking for more, Noah added, “We took steps each day, assessed, made adjustments, managed risk and learned to cope with uncertainty.”
“No crystal ball?”
Noah smiled. “No crystal ball.”
“Maggie never used to mind taking a few risks. She jumped into catering with both feet, moved back here without a real plan, but she doesn’t see it that way because it’s her hometown. Her sisters are here. Her mother.” Brandon drank some of his beer. “It’s me she wants to be practical.”
“I think you can be practical and still take risks. You just want to be careful about not risking more than you can afford to lose, and you have to manage the uncertainties and unpredictability of the future.”
Brandon glanced back toward the kitchen, as if he were thinking about his estranged wife and their two young sons. He seemed to give himself a mental shake. “Going public involved uncertainty, didn’t it?”
“It still does.” Noah sat down, drank some of his beer. “I didn’t consider what I’d do after NAK went public as carefully as I could have.”
“So that’s why you’re here dog sitting.”
“Maybe so.”
“Any paths not taken that you can take now that you can be free of the day-to-day running of your company?” Brandon seemed to want to add something but was silent a moment. Finally he said, “I suppose we all have paths not taken.”
Noah hadn’t considered his situation in quite that way. “I suppose so. What about Phoebe?”
Brandon narrowed his gaze on Noah. “What about her?”
“Her father died when she was in college and she stayed in Knights Bridge.” Noah spoke carefully, aware that Phoebe was Brandon’s sister-in-law, a woman he’d known since childhood versus a few days. “Was that always her plan, or is there a path not taken?”
“More like there’s a guy who took off to Orlando without her. He wasn’t from here,” Brandon added quickly, as if that were a significant fact. “They were at UMASS together. He was a senior and she was a junior when her father died. This guy didn’t like sharing Phoebe with her mother and sisters on a good day.”
“You met him?”
“Yeah. Once. I was with Maggie at her mother’s place. Those were tough days, right after their dad died. For a while they just didn’t know...” Brandon scowled as if irritated with himself. “I’m talking too much. I never used to talk at all but I’ve been practicing.”
Noah hesitated but he knew he had to ask. “Did Patrick O’Dunn commit suicide, Brandon?”
Brandon shook his head but the question clearly hadn’t come as a shock. “It crossed everyone’s minds, but no, he didn’t. It was just a stupid accident. Phoebe’s guy—he couldn’t take it, having her in the middle of a family crisis. It was all about him. He gave her an ultimatum. Transfer out of UMASS and move with him to Florida or they were through.”
“Phoebe’s still here,” Noah said.
“So she is. She hasn’t been serious about a guy since then. Not that she’d tell me.” Brandon settled back with his beer, no indication he had any bitterness toward Phoebe given his own troubled situation with her younger sister. “You know sneaking into that ball the other night was a big deal for her, right?”
Noah nodded. “She didn’t tell anyone she was going.”
“It was a last-minute decision. Phoebe’s usually not impulsive. I ran into her. I kept my mouth shut but I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.” Brandon again narrowed his gaze on Noah. “You two...”
“I won’t cause problems for her,” Noah said quietly.
“As you say, not everything is predictable. It’s up to us to respond to the unexpected. You didn’t expect Phoebe. She didn’t expect you.” Brandon got to his feet. “Life does have a say, doesn’t it?”
Noah leaned back in his chair and thought he could smell orange mint in the warm air. “You’re not telling me all this as a friend. You’re warning me.”
“I guess you cou
ld look at it that way. I’m only telling you what everyone in town already knows.”
“You don’t want Phoebe hurt again.”
“Let’s just say I’m doing what I can to assess and manage risks.”
And I’m the risk, Noah thought. He was the stranger sweeping their Phoebe off her feet. Another man who could break her heart. She was happy with her life. No one wanted him to screw that up.
Noah didn’t want to, either.
He decided to shift the subject. “What happened with you and Maggie?”
“I’m in a tent for a reason.” Brandon looked up at the sky. “I’m not getting her back, Noah. It’s not going to happen.”
“Giving up easily, aren’t you?”
Brandon sighed. “Looking reality square in the eye. It’s not something I always like to do, but I want Maggie to be happy. I know that much.”
“Because you love her,” Noah said.
“Always have, always will. That doesn’t mean we can be together. Ack. I hate this kind of deep talk. I’ve been practicing, because she wants me to talk. Listening isn’t enough. She says she has to hear my voice. I should practice talking to Buster. Hell of a lot easier to talk to a dog than to an O’Dunn.”
Despite Brandon’s attempt to lighten his mood, Noah felt the other man’s pain. “I need to go back to San Diego to check on a few things,” he said. “You can see to Buster?”
“Sure. I’ll see to him.” The big dog sat at Brandon’s feet, obviously wanting to be petted. Brandon complied and grinned, his dark mood dissipating rapidly as some of his natural spark returned. “The O’Dunn women are smart and quirky and pretty as hell, but damn, they’re not easy.”
Noah smiled. “What fun would easy be?”
“Maggie’s dress the other night makes me wonder if maybe she just wants a little old-fashioned romance in her life. What do you think?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Wooing.”
Noah stared at his new friend. “Wooing?”
Brandon laughed. “Yeah. I’ll figure out some wooing options that won’t break the bank. Meantime, I’ll go up and take a shower with the goat’s milk soap.”
Brandon seemed reenergized as he headed through the mudroom into his friend’s house. Noah moved his chair into the sunlight and finished his beer. Bumblebees were again in the catmint.
No one in Knights Bridge had expected a man like him—maybe any man—to float into their librarian’s life. It wasn’t just his net worth. It was California. His work. His MIT background. His experience.
He was forbidden, he thought with a sigh.
At the same time, he liked the challenge, just as Brandon Sloan liked the challenge of “wooing” his wife back.
But what if Julius Hartley was right? Noah stood up in the sunshine, listened to the bees in the catmint, crows out in the fields. It didn’t feel as if he’d seized on Phoebe because he was bored, but what if he had? What if he was drawn to her because she was so different, so out of reach? He wasn’t playing games, and he was confident she was as attracted to him as he was to her.
Well. Maybe not that confident. But confident that his interest wasn’t one-way.
He’d had his share of Hollywood babes disappear on him. More who’d needed a push out of his life. He didn’t want Phoebe to disappear and he didn’t want to push her or cause her embarrassment, scrutiny or anything she’d live to regret.
After his shower, Brandon walked up the road to Dylan’s place instead of cutting through the field. Noah almost went with him, but there wasn’t much to see. Dylan had shown him the plans for the new house and a barnlike building for his fledgling adventure travel business. He was also talking about finishing some of his father’s treasure hunts. He and Olivia would live in the house, which would allow The Farm at Carriage Hill to function exclusively as a destination getaway. In addition to soap making, she and Maggie were talking about offering herbal lunches, tours and lectures at Carriage Hill.
Unlike Noah, Dylan and Olivia and their friends in Knights Bridge didn’t lack for ideas of what to do with themselves.
If Olivia hadn’t met Dylan, she would have happily continued to live and work at her center-chimney house, with guests coming and going. Noah didn’t see Dylan sharing a bedroom with her down the hall from strangers.
He’d shown Grace Webster the plans for her former property, too. She’d told Noah when he’d visited her that she couldn’t wait to see the new house.
“I expect to live that long, you know,” she’d said with a twinkle in her aged eyes.
He had no doubt.
He occupied himself with a few NAK-related calls, cleaning Buster’s bowl, vacuuming Buster’s hair off the couch and picturing Phoebe harvesting orange mint.
Then he arranged for his flight back to San Diego himself. At six, he was scrounging in the freezer for something else to thaw for a quick dinner when Dylan called. Noah didn’t bother hiding his relief. “Someone to talk to who’s not from Knights Bridge. At least not yet. What’s up?”
“You tell me,” Dylan said. “Is there anything else I need to know about you and Phoebe O’Dunn?”
His friend might as well have been reading his mind. Noah was used to it. “I won’t screw things up for you here, Dylan.”
“That’s not an answer, is it?”
“Why are you asking?”
“I had a drink last night with Loretta and Olivia at the Hotel Del. We got to talking. It’s been on my mind all day. Olivia asked how fencing has influenced you.”
Noah frowned as he dug out another container of frozen soup. Tomato-basil. Sounded good, and he didn’t need much to eat before his flight. “Influenced me how?”
“In life. How you think, how you look at the world.”
“Mostly in fencing I’m trying not to get a blade driven into my heart.”
“Exactly Olivia’s point. Loretta agrees. You should have seen her. It was as if she’d had this sudden epiphany about you, what makes you tick.”
Noah set the container on the counter. “Dylan? Are you still jet lagged? You’re not making any sense.”
“You’re skilled at avoiding the touch of a sword,” Dylan said, apparently undeterred. “Any touch, not just one that goes to the heart.”
“That’s because any touch can be fatal.”
“Is that how you’re thinking now, about Phoebe?”
Noah made a face. “That she’s—what, a fencing partner?”
“That in life as well as in fencing, you seek to avoid the blade.”
“That’s a tortured metaphor, Dylan.”
His friend sighed. “I had to try.”
“Phoebe and Maggie were here earlier getting a start with making essential oils. That’s all I know.”
“Essential oils?”
“For the goat’s milk soaps. You know, this soap making is interesting.”
Silence on the other end of the phone.
Noah grinned. “You’re interested. You’re just surprised that I am, too. Never mind. I haven’t talked to Loretta today. Anything to add about Julius Hartley?”
“He does a lot of work in Hollywood,” Dylan said. “You have both business and personal connections there.”
“I did have personal connections. I haven’t in a while.”
“Maybe that’s why Hartley’s on your tail. Maybe some pissed-off actress you dated sicced him on you when you didn’t bankroll her in a movie.”
“Maybe,” Noah said. “I need to know.”
“I agree.”
“I’m having a bowl of soup and then flying to San Diego later tonight.”
“Good,” Dylan said. “You, Loretta and I need to put our heads together and see if we can figure out what’s going on.”
“Loretta and I can.” Noah felt a light breeze through the window above the sink. “You and Olivia will be walking on the beach.”
“She wants to go to the zoo.” Dylan sounded reasonably enthusiastic. “She promised to bring back
stuffed giraffes for Maggie’s sons.”
Noah smiled. “Then the zoo it is.”
“Enjoy your soup. What kind?”
“Tomato-basil. I might add some of the pesto Phoebe and I made, although that could be overkill.”
“Noah...” Dylan broke off. “Never mind.”
After they disconnected, Noah peeled the top off the soup container. It was frozen solid. He heard an owl or a wild turkey or something in the woods and fields out back. Then he remembered the Sloan boys were camping with their father.
He left the soup to thaw on the counter and went into the living room. Buster had escaped from the mudroom and was back on the couch. Noah left him in peace and cleared a space in front of the fireplace. He eased into a series of basic fencing moves, then switched to karate and did several katas. He focused on his movements, his technique, his breathing. The positioning of a foot, a hand, a shoulder—even a knuckle—mattered. Every detail was important, worthy of his attention.
When he finished, he took a shower in the upstairs hall bathroom, using a fresh bar of lemon-scented goat’s milk soap. It was mild, soothing, reminded him of the beauty of the Swift River Valley and surrounding hills, of the sensibilities of the smart, kind and deceptively tough women who lived there.
He dried off and wrapped his towel around his waist as he went into one of Olivia’s unused guestrooms. He noticed neatly ironed vintage pillowcases stacked at the foot of the queen-size bed. He looked out the window at the field behind the house, quiet in the early-evening light.
The library’s fashion show was coming up soon. The Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn dresses Maggie and Olivia had worn in Boston weren’t the only ones in Phoebe’s hidden room copied from Hollywood movies.
Noah turned from the window. Thoughts and possibilities—odd connections—came at him fast and furiously. They might amount to something, or they might amount to nothing, but he definitely had to go back to San Diego and talk to Loretta.
And to Julius Hartley.
He walked down the hall to his bedroom and pulled on clean clothes, then headed back downstairs. Buster had vacated the couch and was sniffing at the counter.
That Night on Thistle Lane Page 20