The Spring at Moss Hill

by Carla Neggers

  She wheeled her suitcase to the entry and left it by the front door.

  Done.

  She changed into a cute retro swimsuit she’d designed for herself and a cover-up and was on her way to the pool when her doorbell rang. Russ? The mailman? Not Julius or Loretta. They were in La Jolla. Annoying, but there it was. She had friends but not many who’d ring her doorbell on what ostensibly was a work day.

  She opened her front door to Noah Kendrick and Phoebe O’Dunn. A San Diego high-tech billionaire and his Knights Bridge librarian fiancée, two lovely people who, in a way, were responsible for Daphne boarding a flight for Boston tonight. Phoebe was the one who’d discovered Debbie Sanderson’s secret attic room in the Knights Bridge town library.

  Daphne couldn’t help but smile as she greeted them. “Please, come in.”

  “We won’t stay long,” Phoebe said, stepping inside. “We’re driving to San Diego from the winery and wanted to stop by and wish you luck in Knights Bridge.”

  “Thank you,” Daphne said, genuinely taken aback.

  Noah eased into the small entry behind Phoebe. “We’re sorry we can’t be there.”

  “Well, it’s not like you need a class in costume design.” Daphne motioned toward the back of the house. “Won’t you have a seat on the patio, stay for coffee?”

  Phoebe shook her head. “We don’t want to take up your time, and we have to run. We wanted to be there on Saturday to support my sisters, too. Ava and Ruby are so excited about this weekend. They remind me of my mother. Always a million different things going on at once, all of which they’re confident they can handle with ease—and usually do. It’s great, such energy and enthusiasm.”

  “Contagious,” Daphne said, smiling, feeling slightly guilty at her uncharitable thoughts toward Phoebe’s twin younger sisters during her tossing and turning overnight. She’d splashed cold water on her face and scolded her reflection in the mirror for sounding like her father. “I’m looking forward to seeing Ava and Ruby. We’ve talked on the phone and emailed over the winter, but it’s not the same as seeing them face-to-face.”

  “So true,” Phoebe said. She had long, softly curling auburn hair and kind turquoise eyes—her sensitive, quiet nature a contrast to her more exuberant younger sisters. Noah, lithe and fair, moved closer to her. She hooked her arm into his arm, color rising in her cheeks. “We credit you for bringing us together, Daphne. I hope my finding your attic room has brought you more positives than it has—” she hesitated “—than it has negatives.”

  “You mean did it open a big can of squirmy, nasty worms?” Daphne laughed. “Well, it did, but it needed opening. I’m glad my neurotic ways did some good, though. You two look happy as clams.”

  “We’ll be in Knights Bridge again soon,” Noah said.

  Phoebe flushed. “I’m going to be talking to my mother about wedding plans.”

  “You’re not having your wedding at her place with the goats, are you?” Daphne waved a hand. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Noah laughed. “It would be fun. Imagine Julius and Loretta.”

  “I am,” Daphne said.

  “We’re having it at the winery,” Phoebe said. “Trust me, my mother will be hugely relieved.”

  Of that, Daphne had no doubt, given Noah Kendrick’s circle of friends, colleagues and acquaintances who would expect to be invited to his wedding.

  “And of course we hope you can be there,” Phoebe added.

  “I’m so glad. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  After they left, Daphne went out to the pool. She’d order herself a nice lunch and have it delivered, and that evening, she’d board a plane with Russ Colton. Life could be worse, even if he was flying coach and she was flying first class.

  Eighteen

  Kylie stayed in her fairy-tale world until Thursday afternoon, with limited breaks for walks, stretching and one torturous session with weights in the exercise room. She saw no people, but she did talk to her sister once, for five minutes, because any longer and Lila wouldn’t just be suspicious Kylie was holding back, she’d know. And Kylie wasn’t ready to tell her sister about Morwenna, and she was too raw and uncertain about her reaction to Russ to even breathe that a Beverly Hills private investigator had found her out. Lila would want all the details of why Kylie was telling her about Morwenna now.

  Anyway, Lila was deep into her veterinary studies and didn’t need distractions right now, either.

  Best to hold off, Kylie thought as she headed outside to her bicycle. As far she knew, Russ hadn’t told anyone about Morwenna. She trusted he wouldn’t, but she also knew the time had come to let the word out. She had a list of people she needed to tell herself, before they heard through other means.

  She snapped on her helmet and climbed onto her bike, lured by the spring sunshine and warm temperatures to take a good, long ride up the river. She needed some serious aerobic activity. Short walks, stretching and light free weights were great, but she could feel her hours at her worktable in every muscle in her body. She’d lost herself in her work, sketching ideas for dense woods, a greedy, clever wolf and a trusting girl yearning for adventure as she set off through the woods to visit her grandmother.

  The photos Kylie had taken on her phone out past the Farm at Carriage Hill had helped solidify her thinking, and helped with light and unexpected details—such as dead lower branches on evergreens, perfect for Little Red Riding Hood’s dense, spooky forest. Most of her photos were of maple trees and stone walls. She wouldn’t take photos of Olivia and Dylan’s antique house without permission.

  “Imagine if Russ had caught me snapping pictures of the McCaffreys’ property,” Kylie said aloud as she set off on her bike. But she’d never do such a thing, and she didn’t blame him for wondering what she’d been up to—even without knowing she’d taken pictures of anything out on Carriage Hill Road.

  She didn’t need photos of Dylan and Olivia’s 1803 house. She had a concept she liked for the house where Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother met her untimely fate.

  Kylie pushed aside her noisy thoughts and focused on the sunlit river, the clear, coppery water coursing over rocks and boulders, a tree hanging by a few thready roots to a washed-out section of the bank.

  She came to the house she’d rented from July until a few weeks ago.

  She sighed, missing this place, as much as she loved her loft apartment at Moss Hill.

  She jumped off her bike, leaning it against a stone wall that ran in front of the house. She faced the river across the road, the deciduous trees leafing out, creating dappled shade on the shallow water and chunks of granite. She’d loved watching the changes in the landscape during her months living out here, from the long, hot days of summer to the short, frigid days of winter. She’d never paid such close attention to light as she had during her retreat in this simple, lovely riverside house.

  I hate to sell the place, Kylie, but there’s no point holding on to it.

  Intellectually, Kylie understood. She’d never intended to fall in love with Knights Bridge, or her friend’s house.

  Emotionally, she didn’t want to give up the house. She’d joked with her friend that she should get to approve the buyer. Her friend had laughed.

  Decent of her, Kylie thought with a smile as she walked across the front yard above the stone wall, the spring grass soft under her feet. Painters would be here soon. They’d paint all the interior walls and woodwork Dover White, fresh and neutral for the upcoming open house. The front door would get a fresh coat of deep yellow paint, a cheerful shade her friend was convinced would aid in a quick sale.

  Kylie stood on the simple stone steps and touched the brass front-door latch. Most of the time she’d used the side door. She still had a key, in case her friend needed her help in any way, but she didn’t go inside. She hoped a family would buy the hou
se. She could envision children, dogs, cats, a clothesline with sheets fluttering in the breeze.

  She jumped down to the stone walk and took it to the driveway. But as she headed to her bike, she noticed a For Sale sign by the mailbox and gasped in shock. It didn’t matter that she’d known this would happen. She’d moved to Moss Hill for that reason—her rented house was going on the market because its owner had moved to Iowa and had no use for it. But she’d thought it wouldn’t happen until after the painters had finished, and they hadn’t started yet.

  Fighting tears, Kylie ran to her bike, grabbed her helmet and put it on. She could afford to buy the house, but she’d been through all that in her head. She still didn’t know how long she would stay in Knights Bridge. She’d moved into her apartment in Moss Hill to get through the last of her tight deadlines and give herself as much time as she needed to figure out what was next, with no pressure.

  An unfamiliar truck rolled to a stop on the road in front of her. At first she thought it was someone asking for directions, but she recognized the driver—Travis Bowman, the carpenter who’d taken her to the Red Sox game last summer.

  He waved to her as he got out of the truck. He was a big man in his early thirties, with short-cropped dark hair and a casual, friendly manner, despite the chip on his shoulder. He’d been so burned out and negative on their day together that she’d left him early in the seventh inning and gone to visit her sister. She’d found her own way back to Knights Bridge. Travis hadn’t asked her out again. Kylie didn’t know if he’d gotten the message or she hadn’t interested him.

  “Hey, Kylie,” he said as he came around the front of his truck to her. “Long time.”

  “Hi, Travis. Good to see you. I didn’t know you were in town.”

  “Just passing through. You don’t rent this place anymore? What happened?”

  “I moved out last month. It’s on the market.”

  “So I see.”

  “It’s getting fresh paint, but might as well put up the For Sale sign in the meantime.” Kylie heard the emotion in her voice but doubted Travis would, if only because he wouldn’t be paying attention to anyone’s emotions but his own.

  “The Sloans and Mark Flanagan aren’t involved?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. There’s a lot of construction going on in town right now. I imagine they have their hands full. I don’t think the owners need an architect, and it’s a simple paint job—” She stopped, catching herself. Travis had worked briefly for Sloan & Sons. He’d left on his own, but she wasn’t going to indulge any lingering grudges he might have, given his tendency to see the dark side of everything. She smiled at him as she held her bike, ready to be on her way. “How are you, Travis?”

  He shrugged. “Great. I moved out to Syracuse to be closer to my kids. They’re four and six now. My ex is there. I came back here for my uncle’s funeral. Cancer. Where are you living?”

  “Moss Hill. I’m on my way back there now.”

  “Meeting a friend?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. I promised Ava and Ruby O’Dunn I would take a look at the meeting room. They’re setting up for an event this weekend.”

  Travis grinned at her. “You have friends in town now, Kylie?”

  “Imagine that.” She faked a laugh. His chronic negativity grated on her nerves. “I’m sorry to hear about your uncle. I should get rolling. See you around.”

  He didn’t budge. “How do you like living at Moss Hill?”

  “It’s great.”

  “If I lived alone, I think I’d want to be closer to the village, but to each his own. Glad things worked out for you. Still illustrating children’s books?”

  She nodded, climbing onto her bike. The bit about meeting Ava and Ruby was an exaggeration, if not an outright lie. Ruby had invited her to stop in anytime today. Ava had arrived from New York, and Kylie had noticed them carrying various mounted Hollywood posters into the meeting room, in anticipation of Daphne Stewart’s arrival.

  “I love to read to my kids,” Travis said. “They’re into these badgers right now. Have you heard of them? The Badgers of Middle Branch. Middle Branch is a little town on a river in a valley. Reminds me of small towns in this area. Maybe Greenwich or Dana before they were flooded for Quabbin. Not that I remember them, of course, since I wasn’t born then.”

  Kylie didn’t breathe. She felt her grip tighten on her bike, automatically, a visceral self-defense reaction to Travis’s words. It was no coincidence he’d brought up the Badgers. She said nothing. Let him tell her where he was headed with this one.

  “It’s okay, Kylie.” He settled back on his heels, conversational, seemingly easygoing. “I know you’re Morwenna Mills. I’ve known for a while.”

  “Let’s talk at Moss Hill,” she said.

  “Hey, I’m not making you nervous, am I?” But he didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m not after anything. Money, favors—nothing like that. Nothing at all, in fact. I swear. I know Morwenna’s a secret.”

  “Travis...” Kylie made herself breathe. “I’m glad you and your kids enjoy the Badgers. I do, too, but I can’t—I need to go.”

  “Sure, sure. I’ll be off, too. Tell Mark I said hi. I don’t know Ava and Ruby well. I drove past Moss Hill coming out here. I haven’t been inside, but the place looks great. Mark and the Sloan boys are exacting bastards. Baby sister Heather Sloan, too. I’ll say that for them. Screw up with them, and they’ll hand you your head.” He grinned suddenly. “In fact, I screwed up, and they did hand me my head. Learned my lesson. I didn’t get fired—I quit first.”

  “No hard feelings, then?”

  “None, at least not on my part. All of them—the Sloans and Mark, and Jess Flanagan, too—gave me more chances than I deserved. My ex had moved to Syracuse by then, and I was missing my kids and didn’t realize how it was affecting me. I’m not making excuses. It’s all water over the dam now, anyway. Good to see you, Kylie.” He waited a moment, then grinned. “Morwenna.”

  Kylie waited for him to get back in his truck and rattle up the road. She exhaled, her heart pounding, her hands clammy. A couple of weeks after their Red Sox game, Travis had run afoul of the Sloans, Justin in particular. She didn’t know the details—she didn’t want to know the details—but Travis had left Sloan & Sons voluntarily a week later. She’d never asked anyone if it had been a case of quit or be fired and hadn’t heard anything in town. Travis wasn’t from Knights Bridge. There was no reason for him to be a major subject of gossip.

  In their day together in Boston, he’d never mentioned an ex-wife and children. Too painful, maybe? It could explain his negativity. She hoped he’d been truthful about getting on a more positive track and that venturing back to Knights Bridge wasn’t causing a setback for him.

  She started down the road, in the opposite direction he’d gone.

  Was Travis responsible for the rumors about cut corners at Moss Hill?

  Kylie debated calling Russ. She had his card. But why bother him with what amounted to speculation on her part? Even if Travis was the source of the rumors, there were no safety or legal issues with Moss Hill, and he was on his way back to Syracuse.

  Thinking about Russ didn’t help Kylie calm down after her encounter with Travis. For all she knew, Russ had decided not to accompany Daphne Stewart east, or he’d run into more urgent issues that required his attention.

  But Kylie doubted that would be the case.

  Whatever had bubbled up between her and Russ early in the week might go flat once he was back in town, but he’d do his job.

  He’d be here for Saturday.

  * * *

  Mark Flanagan’s truck was the only vehicle at Moss Hill when Kylie cruised into the parking lot on her bike. She jumped off, left her bike and helmet on the rack and headed into the lobby of the main building, catching Mark coming out of the meet
ing room. He and Christopher Sloan had gone through the place. She was confident it was safe, but if she were putting on the first-ever event there, she’d want to know Travis Bowman was in town and potentially the source of the unfounded rumors.

  She poked her head into the meeting room. “Mark, do you have a sec?”

  He frowned at her. “What’s on your mind, Kylie? You look as if something’s troubling you. Is something wrong?”

  “I wanted to let you know I ran into Travis Bowman just now, up at the house I rented.”

  “Travis? He’s in town?”

  She nodded. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember him—”

  “Excellent carpenter with a bad attitude. What did he want?”

  She’d decided while biking back to Moss Hill not to mention Travis’s comment about Morwenna. Leaving out only that part, she related her encounter with him to Mark. “Do you think he’s responsible for the rumors?” she asked.

  “I can’t say for certain—I don’t have any more details than I did on Sunday when Ruby mentioned the rumors—but it wouldn’t surprise me if Travis had a hand in them. It could be inadvertent on his part. He bad-mouths everyone and everything. Just how he’s wired. It would be easy for his usual grousing to get turned into something more. I doubt he’s trying to get anyone into trouble.” Mark paused, studying Kylie. “He didn’t give you any trouble, did he, Kylie?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t have a problem with him. He’s just a negative guy.”

  “Justin didn’t fire Travis. He quit. That much I know.” Mark sighed heavily. “I’ll talk to Justin in case I’m missing anything, but this is all making more sense. Thanks, Kylie. By the way, how’s your apartment working out?”

  They chatted amiably for a few more minutes. He was hiring a property manager and would start interviewing next week. He didn’t like being a landlord, but that distaste was compensated for by how much he liked not having a landlord himself.