The Spring at Moss Hill

by Carla Neggers

  “My first, last and only master class,” Daphne said, tucking her feet up under her on the chair. “I’m debating whether to stay here another couple of days or go back right away. I’m considering several new projects. I had this fantasy of slowing down a bit when I turned sixty, but I hate to turn down work.”

  “You’re in your prime,” Olivia said.

  “How nice of you to say so. We had quite a number of movie people in the crowd today. Word’s leaking back to Hollywood that I used to live here. I managed to avoid a lot of that sort of gossip when I was here in September. Egad. People are going to find out my real name is Debbie Sanderson and there’s a portrait of my great-great-grandfather in the local library. He looks a bit like George C. Scott as Ebenezer Scrooge, don’t you think?”

  Russ didn’t think so at all. From her expression, Kylie didn’t, either. Ruby and Ava said George Sanderson reminded them of Colin Firth in Pride and Prejudice. “Older, of course,” Ruby said, “but just as handsome.”

  “And as rich,” Ava added with a grin.

  Daphne scoffed. “Well, I hope Darcy’s wealth lasted longer than old George Sanderson’s did. I’ve had to work myself to the bone my entire life. What do you think, did I show a lack of gratitude in changing my name to Daphne Stewart? I was always more of a Mary Stewart fan than Daphne du Maurier, but I do like the name Daphne.”

  “I’m sure your great-great-grandfather would understand,” Olivia said.

  “I hope so. I don’t know why, but I do.” Daphne sipped the last of her martini. “Do you work under more than one name, Kylie?”

  Russ felt Kylie’s gaze on him, but he didn’t come to her aid, change the subject or deny that he’d said a word to Daphne, which, of course, he hadn’t. Finally, she nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  “Really?” Ruby set her martini glass on a tray on a small table by Daphne’s chair. “I had no idea.”

  “Can you tell us?” Olivia asked, clearly intrigued.

  “Yes, Kylie, please,” Jess said. “Tell us who you really are.”

  She told them she wrote and illustrated children’s books under the name Morwenna Mills. She was matter-of-fact, and she didn’t explain her reasoning, her success or any details.

  Samantha clapped her hands together. “Morwenna is the one who created The Badgers of Middle Branch, right?”

  Kylie nodded without comment.

  “I read them to Justin’s nephews. They love them. They identify with the little badgers who are always plotting their next adventure. And they love Sherlock Badger. He reminds them of their Uncle Eric.”

  “That’s great,” Kylie said. “Thank you.”

  “This is so cool,” Ruby said, swooping up her martini again. “Calls for one more sip of this thing.”

  Laughter ensued, and in a few minutes, Olivia said it was time for dinner.

  Russ edged closer to Kylie as she started into the dining room. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “It wasn’t, but I think I’ll try one of those French martinis.”

  Dylan overheard and saw to it himself.

  Russ suspected that Dylan McCaffrey, of everyone in the room except maybe Daphne, most understood what it had taken out of Kylie to admit she worked under another name, and a very successful one at that. Dylan had been a professional athlete and, after the premature end to his NHL career, had succeeded beyond anyone’s expectations when he’d joined his best friend, Noah Kendrick, at Noah’s fledgling NAK, Inc. Dylan’s quick thinking and his instincts about people had helped tip the scales in NAK’s favor. The company had gone public about the same time Morwenna’s badgers had taken off in popularity, changing its founders’ lives, putting them at a crossroads they were still trying to sort out.

  “Today was a wake-up call,” Dylan said after he handed Kylie her martini and she and the other guests were taking seats in the dining room. “I have a family now—a baby on the way. I can’t fool around. I talked to Noah. We’ll set up a meeting.”

  Russ nodded. “Anytime.”

  “I rather like this,” Kylie said from the table, as she sipped the martini.

  Daphne beamed. “There.” She gave Russ a victorious look. “I told you Kylie and I had things in common.”

  “You’re scaring me,” Russ said, grinning at her as he took his seat at the table. He noticed that Olivia and Dylan had put him next to Kylie. From the color in her cheeks, he guessed she’d noticed, too.

  * * *

  After dinner, Daphne started out to the terrace. She nodded to Kylie. “Join me, why don’t you?”

  It was a friendly command, Kylie thought. How could she refuse?

  On their way through the mudroom, Daphne grabbed a barn jacket that must have belonged to Dylan. Kylie had already grabbed a throw from the back of a chair in the living room, trying not to think about last night’s throw on Russ’s balcony and how it had almost ended up in the river. She wouldn’t have cared. She’d gone quickly past the point of caring.

  “I do miss the night sky here,” Daphne said, looking up at the stars as she spoke. “I took a pseudonym when I moved to California because I was deliberately reinventing myself. George Sanderson was a generous and solid citizen but his great-grandson—my father—was a hard, abusive man.” She turned to Kylie. “But you’re not escaping a troubled past, are you?”

  “Fortunately, no. I created the badgers before I decided to use a pseudonym.”

  Daphne sank onto a chair at a round wooden table. “And Morwenna just fit?”

  Kylie nodded, sitting across from her. “That sums it up. I’d never both written and illustrated a children’s book, and I didn’t want to interfere with my regular work under my own name.”

  “You hedged your bets. Makes perfect sense. Are you worried envy will be an issue when your artist friends find out?”

  “It would be patronizing to assume anyone would be envious of me.”

  “But professional jealousy exists even among people who draw cute, chubby animals for a living,” Daphne said. “Easy to think you’re all in it together, but then one of you rises to the top. It can throw off the balance of friendships. It’s not just when you blow past them. It’s also when they blow past you and you get accused of envy when you couldn’t care less.”

  “Maybe so.” Kylie tightened the warm throw around her. “It’s not something I like to think about.”

  “Not everyone wishes you well in life. I learned that early on in Hollywood. Creative people aren’t exempt from envy, jealousy and ambition and competitiveness carried too far. That includes those of us who don’t get the major headlines.”

  “You’re very wise.”

  “I’ve been around a long time. I’ve seen it all.” Daphne made a face. “I can’t believe I just said that. Did Russ figure out you’re this Morwenna Mills?”

  “He did,” Kylie said.

  “He’s a suspicious and tenacious sort. I think he got shot at more than once while he was in the navy. Beverly Hills is a big change for him from San Diego. Knights Bridge is an even bigger change. It was my idea to drag him out here. He all but told me I was being stupid.” Daphne draped the barn coat over her shoulders. “I almost wish this guy today’d had it in for me. Well, no, I don’t, but Russ can be annoyingly smug. Worse than Julius.”

  Kylie laughed. Daphne obviously adored both men. “Do you think you’ll ever come back to Knights Bridge?”

  Light from the house hit Daphne’s face, deepening the green of her eyes, the lines at her mouth. She looked tired, emotionally as well as physically drained by her appearance. “Everywhere I go there are ghosts. If you’ve lived here all your life or move back within a short time—or come and go...” She looked up at the night sky again. “But to be away for decades and then return, you can’t escape the memories.”

  “And they aren’t
all good memories, are they?”

  “No one has only good memories.” She leaned back, eyed Kylie knowingly. “You and Russ—I noticed the way he looks at you. You don’t have a man in your life?”

  “I’ve been busy—”

  “That’s what we always say, isn’t it? I keep saying I’m through with men. I don’t want to marry again, that’s for sure. Creatively, single is a great way to go. You get in the zone and stay in it unless you want to come out.”

  “There are always distractions.”

  “You’re not going to tell me we have to find balance, are you? There’s no such thing.”

  Kylie wasn’t sure if Daphne was serious.

  “What about kids?” She waved a hand. “Don’t choke. I say what’s on my mind. A man like Russ will want kids. Mark my words. His brother agrees. Marty’s a hunk, too. Ever been to Hollywood?”

  “For a long weekend.”

  “A private investigator and a children’s illustrator. Not exactly your everyday couple.”

  “Daphne...”

  “Jumping ahead, am I? Blame the martini.” She sprang to her feet with a sudden burst of energy. “I hope you feel better for telling your friends here that you’re Morwenna. I haven’t told most of my friends about Debbie Sanderson. Maybe it’s time.” She inhaled deeply, as if she wanted to take in the night air, and maybe all the memories of her Knights Bridge past. “I’m not staying. I’m not doing the children’s theater. The timing is all wrong for Ava and Ruby—I think they’ll be relieved when I tell them. Right now the theater they have in mind for Knights Bridge is a lovely dream. It’s not a realistic goal and might never be.”

  “And you don’t want to do it, regardless.”

  Daphne sniffed. “You sound like Russ now. He knew I’d bail before I did. Maybe I stuck with it longer because I wanted to prove him wrong. But I hated to disappoint Ava and Ruby—I hope I didn’t look too happy when I saw how relieved they were that this wasn’t meant to be. They need to finish school and experiment, figure out what they want, what they’re good at.”

  As if on cue, Ava and Ruby joined Kylie and Daphne on the terrace, followed by Olivia, Dylan and Russ. Olivia explained that the Flanagans and Samantha and Justin were cleaning up the dinner dishes, refusing any and all offers of help.

  Kylie vacated her seat at the table. She was aware of Russ’s eyes on her as she mumbled a good-night and slipped into the mudroom. She took her martini glass into the kitchen. She’d only had a few sips and wasn’t worried about driving back to Moss Hill in the Knights Bridge dark.

  It was time to make her exit.

  Twenty-Three

  Russ awoke with the sunrise, which hadn’t been his plan or, certainly, his desire after last night, but the vibrant streaks of color drew him outside, downstairs to the front of the building. He had a long day ahead of him. Bundled up in her barn coat, looking tiny and lost, Daphne had followed him among the chives at Carriage Hill. He’d been contemplating Kylie’s abrupt exit, the effect of her and her adopted town on him, when Daphne had hunted him down.

  She wanted to go home. Today. It’s been great, but I need to be back to work on Monday.

  She’d claimed she’d been so preoccupied with this trip that she’d agreed to a must-do, in-person meeting on Monday without realizing it was this Monday, then forgot about it altogether. She’d realized her oversight when she’d received an email confirmation.

  I never forget meetings. Never.

  Russ figured she was making up an excuse, but he hadn’t called her on it and wouldn’t. He’d expected to have today, at least, to relax, maybe go for a bike ride or a long walk with Kylie, just for fun, no pressure. He didn’t regret their overheated encounter on his balcony, but they’d moved fast for a woman who’d spent much of the past year alone, her primary company a four-inch stuffed badger.

  Fast for him, too, but not too fast.

  He walked across the parking lot, taking in the early morning colors and smells, the glow of the sunrise on the river and green fields. He’d go up to the covered bridge and back, get his bearings, breathe in the fresh air, enjoy the picturesque surroundings. Then he’d pack for his and Daphne’s flight to LA.

  As he started up the road, he noticed a movement in the woods at the base of Moss Hill.

  Kylie, up at sunrise.

  He trotted across the road and called to her. When he reached the woods, he saw there was a narrow trail. He ducked under a low-hanging pine branch and called for her again.

  “Up here,” she said, close but out of sight.

  He continued up a steep section of trail. It curved around a chest-high boulder, and there she was, waiting for him on an exposed tree root. “You’re up early,” he said.

  “Not as early as you are since it’s three hours earlier in California.”

  “Good morning, Kylie.”

  She smiled. “Good morning, Russ. Do you want to see my spring?”

  What was he supposed to say to that? Only one answer. “Sure.”

  She led him up the trail, through the woods, along a stream—Russ figured he didn’t need to keep track of the exact route. Kylie picked up her pace as they came to a wet spot on the hillside, presumably her spring.

  She dropped to a small boulder and scooped sodden, dead leaves and debris out of a small pool. She dumped the debris to one side and pointed at a cluster of rocks. “See that water trickling from the rocks? That’s the spring.”

  “I see it,” Russ said, sitting next to her on a flat rock.

  “It’s safe to drink.”

  “Is this where you meditate, or do you sit quietly and wait for badgers?”

  “I haven’t seen any badgers.” She scooped up more muck and tossed it aside. “A squirrel bonked me on the head with an acorn when I was up here the other day.”

  Russ noted the clear pool as the spring fed it fresh water. “You could walk past this spot a hundred times and never realize a spring was here.”

  “That’s part of what makes it special.”

  “Am I ruining it by being up here?”

  “No.” She brushed her muddy hands off on her thighs. “Justin Sloan told me as I was leaving last night that he’ll make sure Travis Bowman gets back to Syracuse.”

  “Does Travis worry you?”

  “Not really, no. I never saw anything in him—he just asked if I wanted to go with him to a Red Sox game and I took a chance and said yes.”

  “The guy in Paris was more your type?”

  “The sculptor. Lucien. He’s full of himself, but he’s also a very good sculptor. He was condescending to me about my illustrations. I don’t think that was his intention, but we never got past sharing a bottle of wine in a Paris café.”

  Russ watched the flow of the spring water. “Maybe Travis was your anti-Lucien.”

  “I didn’t have a relationship with either Travis or Lucien.” Kylie shifted on her rock, the toes of her trail shoes covered in mud. “You see what my life is like. I work and I go for walks and bike rides. I’m sorry Travis disrupted Daphne’s class, first with his reckless talk that got the rumor mill going and, then, showing up yesterday.”

  “Mark and the Sloans were on the lookout for him. He never would have had a chance to disrupt the class, but Daphne would have dined on it for months if he had. She told the guys she was sorry they missed her discussion of Victorian bloomers.”

  “That’s when Brandon made his escape. Did she really discuss bloomers?”

  Russ shrugged. “I wasn’t there. She said afterward she was making a point about considering undergarments, seen or unseen, in costume design.” He noticed the spark of humor in Kylie’s eyes. “She wanted to hit a lot of different points. That’s what she told me, at least.”

  Kylie grabbed a stick and flicked her pile of muck away fro
m the edge of the pool. “She’s fun, savvy and professional. She loves playing the diva, doesn’t she?”

  “To the hilt.”

  “I wonder if she practiced being a diva in her library attic room.”

  “She’s decided to leave today,” Russ said, watching Kylie for her reaction. “I’m going with her. I need to head to Carriage Hill soon to pick her up.”

  Kylie tossed her stick aside. “Had you planned to leave today?” she asked without looking at him.

  “Tomorrow. I have a meeting I need to be at on Tuesday and work I need to clear up.” And decisions to make about his future with Sawyer & Sawyer, and his future in general. He kept his voice steady. “I’m meeting with Dylan and Noah. Travis wasn’t a threat, but the next guy might be. It was a wake-up call for them.”

  “At least it wasn’t a scary wakeup call.” She turned to Russ, her nose and cheeks slightly red from the cool early-morning temperature. “Noah and Dylan have more than their own safety to consider. They’re starting new businesses. Dylan and Olivia have a baby on the way, Noah’s getting married—they can’t pretend Knights Bridge isn’t part of the real world. Even I can’t, and I do a pretty good job of it. Could your law firm take on Noah and Dylan as clients?”

  “First things, first.” Russ smiled. “Right now I have to steel myself for the drive to the airport with Daphne.”

  “Do you like living in Los Angeles? Would you be there if your brother wasn’t there?”

  “I doubt it but no complaints. San Diego’s my city, though. Ever been to San Diego, Kylie?”

  “Once. I didn’t get to the zoo. I’ve always wanted to visit the San Diego Zoo.”

  “I’d love to show you San Diego sometime and take you to the zoo.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He looked out at the trees, the sunrise blended into the sky now, high, white clouds moving in from the west. He turned back to Kylie, noticing how at ease she was out here in the woods, next to her spring. “San Diego is a long way to go for a date. Can you get work done on planes?”