The Spring at Moss Hill

by Carla Neggers

  Jess, seated at the far end of the table, leaned forward. “Is something on your mind, Ruby?”

  She didn’t respond at once. She took a breath and fixed her gaze on Russ. “We could have a situation brewing with Saturday.”

  Kylie went still. Was this why she was invited to lunch? She felt a subtle change in Russ as he studied Ruby. “What kind of situation?” he asked.

  “Problems with codes, permits, fire extinguishers. I don’t know. Not my area of expertise.”

  “Problems at Moss Hill, you mean?” Jess asked, clearly shocked.

  Ruby nodded. “My mother says someone is spreading rumors around town about possible safety violations and cut corners.”

  Mark bristled visibly. “There are no problems at Moss Hill.”

  Jess gasped. “Who is spreading these rumors? Has anyone said anything directly to your mother?”

  “You know Mom,” Ruby said. “If a blade of grass has a complaint about a lawn mower, she’ll hear about it. She’s tuned in to town gossip. This will be the first event at the mill. All we need is some crank causing trouble. Ava and I aren’t professional meeting planners, but we’ve done everything possible to dot every i and cross every t. Mark, are you sure—”

  “I’m sure,” he said stiffly. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “What if a contractor cut a corner you don’t know about?”

  Jess touched Ruby’s shoulder. “You’re getting spooled up.”

  “I know. I am. I’ve been stewing since Mom told me about the rumors last night. I’m worried someone’s trying to sabotage us.”

  “Why would anyone want to do that?” Jess asked.

  “Because people can be jerks,” Ruby snapped.

  Kylie said nothing. Russ Colton hadn’t said a word since his initial question to Ruby, either. The meals arrived. Ruby looked as if she regretted ordering a sandwich. Jess snatched two fries off Mark’s plate before trying her soup. Kylie hadn’t expected the conversation to turn to news of unpleasant rumors. Was that why Ruby had invited her to lunch? But Kylie couldn’t see how she could help unravel what, if anything, was going on.

  Ruby stared at her sandwich. “What if someone doesn’t want Daphne here—or just doesn’t want Moss Hill to host events?”

  Mark lifted a triangle of his club sandwich. “A mixed-purpose space was always in the plans for Moss Hill. It’s no surprise to anyone we’ll be hosting a variety of events there. As far as I can see, people are excited about having that kind of space in town. There have been no problems or complaints.”

  “Not everyone is excited, obviously,” Ruby said. “My mother says she has no idea who is behind the rumors.”

  “Is this sort of talk unusual around here?” Russ asked.

  “Knights Bridge is a small town,” Mark said. “People talk. They have their grudges. But nasty rumors like this? I’d say it’s unusual.”

  Ruby seemed to make an effort to try a small bite of her sandwich. “I haven’t lived here full-time since I started college, but I can’t think of anyone who would want to sabotage a class by a Hollywood icon who’s donating her time...” She put down her sandwich and sank against the back of her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t sleep at all last night. I’m steamed, obviously, but I’m also this close to totally freaking out.”

  “Just because something is annoying doesn’t mean it’s problematic,” Jess said.

  Mark nodded. “I promise you, Ruby. These rumors are completely unfounded.”

  Kylie tried her soup. It was thick, creamy and cheesy, with chunks of fresh broccoli. She understood now why Ruby’s text had struck her as off. Ruby had arranged lunch to reassure herself nothing was wrong at Moss Hill that could jeopardize Daphne Stewart’s appearance in Knights Bridge. Kylie lived there. It made sense to invite her to lunch in case she’d heard or seen anything that might indicate trouble for Saturday.

  Russ finished a triangle of his sandwich and wiped his fingers on a napkin as he studied Ruby. “Do the rumors include Daphne or just Moss Hill?”

  “Concern about Daphne and the people attending the master class.”

  “What kind of concern?” Russ asked.

  Ruby sniffled, calmer. “That there’ll be an accident, and people will get hurt because of the cut corners or bought-off contractors or inspectors. Whatever.”

  Mark sucked in a breath. He seemed to take her high emotions in stride but clearly wasn’t pleased with this development. His wife of less than a year was pensive. “Who’s on your short list of possible jerks who could spread such a stupid rumor?” Jess asked.

  “No one,” Ruby said. “I haven’t heard anything negative about Daphne’s class. I don’t want these rumors to take on a life of their own. I hope I’m not making things worse by mentioning them.”

  “I’d rather have you speak up than keep this to yourself,” Mark said.

  “Christopher Sloan said he’d stop by Moss Hill and talk to you.”

  “Anytime.” Mark turned to Russ. “Feel free to join us.”

  Russ gave a curt nod. “Thanks.”

  “I just need reassurance,” Ruby said. “I know ten-to-one this is small-town grumping and griping, creating drama where there is none—someone looking for attention. You know, the arsonist who sets a fire and then sits back and watches the flames.”

  Jess dipped her spoon into her soup. “In this case, the fire won’t catch and spread because there’s nothing to feed it. There are no problems at Moss Hill.”

  Kylie glanced at Russ, but his expression hadn’t changed. His deep blue eyes settled on her. “What about you, Kylie? Have you heard any rumors?”

  She ignored his undertone of suspicion, assuming it came with the territory of being an investigator. She shook her head. “No, but I doubt I would. I didn’t know about this class until yesterday.”

  “Kylie keeps to herself,” Ruby said, the slightest edge to her voice, if only because she was so agitated. “The artist at work. Deadlines. Am I right, Kylie?”

  “Fortunately, yes,” she said, forcing a smile and seeing no need to explain further.

  Ruby clearly wasn’t satisfied. “If you like your solitude and need it for your work, why move into Moss Hill? You had to know you wouldn’t have the place to yourself. The apartments and offices would get rented, the meeting space would get booked and you’d run into Mark’s staff, groundskeepers, cleaners, security guards—all sorts.”

  Kylie decided she’d had enough of her soup. “In a way, the activity at Moss Hill is one of its attractions after my months on my own up the road. My apartment is quiet. I can be removed from the activity around me whenever I need to be.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ruby blurted. “I didn’t mean to put you on the defensive. I sound like such a bitch. I’m really on edge, I guess. I want everything to be perfect on Saturday. I’m sure there’s nothing to these rumors. Kylie, you’re welcome to come to the class. You and Daphne probably have a lot in common.”

  “Thanks,” Kylie said. “I’d like that.”

  “Are you on a tight deadline?” Jess asked.

  “Not at the moment.” Kylie didn’t explain further. She appreciated the change in subject, but not to that particular subject. “It’s supposed to rain tomorrow. April showers bring May flowers, though, right?”

  Russ picked up his coffee. “So they say.”

  Kylie sensed he was aware she’d been borderline desperate to keep the subject from shifting to her work. Fortunately, the weather was ever a source of interest in New England, and everyone else at the table seemed relieved to move on from talk of Moss Hill and Daphne Stewart. Jess mentioned that it didn’t rain much in Southern California, and the rest of the lunch passed amicably and innocuously. By the time they considered dessert, Ruby was calmer, if still bothered by the rumors. Kylie w
as under no illusions that Mark Flanagan had dismissed them, either—and she knew Russ Colton hadn’t. Not a chance.

  * * *

  Russ Colton was riding back to Moss Hill with her. Kylie adjusted to this fact as she got in her car with him. She’d thought Mark or Ruby might give him a ride, or he’d want to take a walk in the village and check it out, stretch his legs after his long overnight flight, then find his own way back—but none of that had happened.

  He strapped his seat belt on next to her in the little car. He oozed masculine confidence, but it didn’t strike Kylie as deliberate. It was natural. A part of who he was. Over lunch, she’d tried to assess him as an objective observer. He wouldn’t do for Cinderella’s or Snow White’s prince. Maybe a Badger. She could take part of his last name. Colt Badger, PI.

  Now that could be fun.

  She pulled onto the side street where Smith’s was located and came to the intersection with Main Street, aware of her passenger’s dark blue eyes on her. “You don’t seem peeved at Ruby O’Dunn for implying you could be the one spreading rumors about Moss Hill,” he said.

  “I didn’t take her comments that way. She’s just nervous about Saturday.”

  Russ didn’t respond right away. “I get the impression people around here have you pegged as a reclusive, eccentric artist. Are you?”

  She eased the car onto Main Street. “I just had lunch with four people. I didn’t tell you to find your own way to town. That’s not being reclusive.”

  “We are here in your little car together, that’s true. Self-interest at work? Did you suck it up and go to lunch so you could find out more information about what’s going on at Moss Hill this week, with Daphne arriving and me here?”

  Kylie could feel her tension rising but tried not to show it. Russ Colton was a pro. He knew what he was doing. He knew how to elicit information from people. She drove past the common, sunny and green on the perfect spring day. “It would be a simple solution if I were the reclusive, eccentric artist who doesn’t like the idea of dozens of people showing up in her creative space.” She kept her tone as neutral as she could manage. “If I’m the one spreading these rumors, you talk to me, reassure me, threaten to take away my crayons, and all is well. An unknown rumor-monger and potential saboteur is more worrisome. I’m not a threat to anyone.”

  “You weren’t messing with the fire extinguishers or something like that when I caught you at the mill this morning?”

  “You didn’t ‘catch’ me. I just happened to be there the same time you were.”

  “You ran when you saw me.”

  She glanced at him. “Wouldn’t you?”

  He grinned. “I’d buy me a beer.”

  “It was too early for beer,” she said, taking the turn onto the back road to Moss Hill.

  “Are you being straightforward or combative with me?”

  “Maybe both.” She tightened her grip on the wheel. “This is becoming one of those days I wish I could start over.”

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t badger you when you’re kind enough to drive me to lunch and back.”

  His tone didn’t hold a single note of contrition. He wasn’t sorry. He was doing his job. The apology was merely a tactical maneuver. “Why don’t you just tell me how I got on your radar? Was it running when I saw you, being in the lobby in the first place—or was it lunch and these rumors?”

  “Now, that’s combative,” he said.

  “I consider it straightforward.”

  He settled back in his seat. “Here’s my take. You were blindsided by the news of Daphne’s class on Saturday and an investigator about to show up on your turf. You calmed down when you remembered Julius Hartley. Then you saw me, and I’m not Julius—not by a long shot—and Ruby O’Dunn invited you to lunch out of the blue. You guessed something was up and decided to find out what.” He paused. “Am I right?”

  “I don’t consider Moss Hill my turf.”

  “I’m staying across the hall from you. I’d consider that my turf.”

  Meaning she was on his turf. His bottom line, maybe. “I’m coming up for air after a series of tight deadlines. I only expected to stay in Knights Bridge for a few months when I moved here. Now it’s been ten months, and I’m trying to be more social and meet people in town.”

  “That’s it, huh?”

  Obviously he didn’t believe her. “Maybe I knew you were jet-lagged, and I thought I’d be a good neighbor and accompany you to lunch. Welcome you to town. Make up for our bad start.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” He shifted his long legs, clearly having difficulty getting comfortable. “I’ve been in little seats too many of the past twenty-four hours.”

  “You didn’t demand a first-class seat?”

  “Coach is fine with me.”

  Kylie glanced at the river, quiet and shallow, without any steep drops away from the dam. “I haven’t seen anyone sneaking around Moss Hill, in case that was your next question,” she said. “I don’t keep track of all the comings and goings. Probably not even most of them.”

  “Does Mark Flanagan have enemies?” Russ asked.

  She’d expected the question. “Not that I’m aware of. It’s my understanding that Mark grew up in Knights Bridge. People in town know him and like him, from what I can tell. But I’m not the best one to ask, since I’m new here.”

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “East of here. Near Mt. Wachusetts.”

  “Any enemies?”

  “Me?”

  “You. Yes.”

  She attempted a smile despite his probing questions. “I don’t get out enough to have enemies.”

  “It could be an ex-boyfriend, ex-husband, ex-friend, ex-colleague.”

  “I can’t think of anyone in my life who would spread rumors about Moss Hill, for any reason.”

  “I’m not asking you to draw a conclusion. I’m asking if you have enemies.” Russ’s tone had softened, as if he’d realized he’d gotten intense. “You’re the only resident at Moss Hill, and you’re new in town. You seem to know more about the people here than they do about you. Why is that?”

  “A natural consequence of being new here. I want to get to know people now that I have more free time. Everyone is busy with their lives and the people they already know.”

  “And you’re reclusive,” he said.

  “Busy, not reclusive.”

  “Hair-splitting.”

  Fair point, she thought. “Focusing on me is a waste of your time, but feel free. I’m sure Ruby’s taking idle talk to an extreme conclusion.”

  “Could be,” Russ said. “Who is Christopher Sloan?”

  The abrupt shift in subject caught her by surprise, but she welcomed it, could feel her grip on the steering wheel ease. “He’s one of two full-time, professional firefighters in town,” she said. “The Sloans are another local family. They own a construction company. There are a bunch of them. Christopher’s older brother Brandon is married to Ruby’s sister Maggie.”

  “The Sloans worked on Moss Hill?”

  “Some. I don’t know details. Christopher and Ruby...” Kylie didn’t finish.

  “He and Ruby what? They’re an item?”

  “I don’t know for sure. You know what it’s like when you’re the newcomer in a small town.”

  “I don’t, actually.”

  “People sometimes say things in your earshot they might not say if they knew you from when you were in kindergarten.”

  “So, you’ve heard talk about Ruby and this firefighter.”

  “There are sparks between them.”

  “Sparks, Kylie?”

  She heard the amusement in his voice and instantly felt heat rise in her cheeks. She resisted glancing over at him, but was aware of how close he was in the tight quarters of her small car.
“You know what I mean,” she said finally.

  “I’m not much on noticing sparks, I guess. Let’s just say my friends don’t come to me for romantic advice, at least not more than once. I ask them if they want to stay in or get out of the relationship. Only two options.”

  “You’re a black-and-white thinker.”

  “When things are black-and-white. What about you? Do your friends come to you for romantic advice?”

  He’d set her up, she saw now. “It depends on the friend. And I don’t tend to be a black-and-white thinker. I was up for the sunrise this morning. Did you see it on your flight? So many colors. Then they all melted into the blue sky...” She slowed for a curve. “Let’s say that’s the kind of thinker I am.”

  “Is that what we call a blue-sky thinker?”

  “Or the sunrise thinker, maybe.”

  He looked out his window. “I didn’t see the sunrise. I don’t sleep much on planes, but I was reading. Julius Hartley gave me a copy of The Three Musketeers. He said I would understand Knights Bridge better if I read it.”

  “One for all and all for one, or a lot of sword fights?”

  “I was hoping for a scantily clad damsel in distress.”

  Kylie laughed as she turned into the Moss Hill parking lot. “No luck there. Still too cold. Your Hawaiian shirt with the palm trees suggests you like your warm weather.”

  “As I said, my brother gave me the shirt. He binge-watched Magnum, PI over the winter.”

  “He lives in Los Angeles?”

  “He does.”

  “Does he know Daphne Stewart?”

  “They’re friends. I met Daphne and Julius through Marty. That’s how I ended up at Sawyer & Sawyer.”

  Without trying, Kylie thought of a dozen questions she wanted to ask him about his life in California, his work, his past, his brother—where they’d grown up, what he’d done in the navy, why he’d become an investigator, what Daphne Stewart was like. But she didn’t ask any of them and instead turned off the engine and got out of the car.

  Russ met her on the breezeway, stretching his lower back. “Thanks for the ride into town.”

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for lunch. There’s a parking garage under the residential building, in case no one mentioned it. If you need anything while you’re here, feel free to knock on my door again.”