Secrets of the Lost Summer (12 page)

Just barely, Dylan thought. “Some kind of revolutionary, wasn’t he?”

“He was a hero of the American Revolution who came home to chaos after the end of the war. He organized local farmers and led a controversial revolt against unfair and impossibly high taxes. They were routed, but their revolt helped lead to the Constitutional Convention.”

“Sounds like one of those damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t situations.”

She hopped down from her boulder, one of countless hunks of granite scattered among the bare trees and evergreens on top of the hill. “His original homestead was on the bank of the western branch of the Swift River. It had to be torn down. The plans for Quabbin called for obliterating a number of major roads, so the state built new highways, including one on the western edge of the watershed—Daniel Shays Highway. Ironic, isn’t it?”

Dylan glanced at her. He wondered if she had a clue how attractive she was, even now—maybe especially now—up here in the wind, talking about revolutionaries, a lost valley, this place where time seemed to have stopped but, in reality, hadn’t. “I can see that you love this area,” he said.

“It’s home. I love Quabbin, too. I might have fought tooth and nail against it if I’d been in one of the towns marked for destruction, but it’s an incredible place now. People call it the ‘accidental wilderness.’”

“I understand that Grace Webster came from one of the valley towns.”

“Her house wasn’t that far from here. It’s under water, but not all the houses that were taken and torn down were in the flood zone. Some were just in the watershed, but they had to go, too. A number of the people who were displaced moved to Knights Bridge.”

Dylan shook off an image of his father, shook off his questions about how an adventurer and treasure hunter had ended up here, and turned from the view, facing Olivia as another gust of wind, colder than the last, blew through her hair. “My father was always one for living in the present, and he’s gone now. He bought his house here for his own reasons.”

Her eyes narrowed as she stood back from him. “So you’ll put it on the market and dust the dirt of Knights Bridge off your feet once you leave?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way, but—”

“But it’s what you’ll do. I can’t say I blame you. I assume you’ll be flying back to San Diego?”

“It’s a hell of a long drive across the country.”

“Yes,” Olivia said half under her breath, then, with a sudden panicked, pale look, burst back down the trail.

Dylan watched her retreating figure a moment before he headed down the trail himself, catching up with her. “You don’t like to fly?”

“Does anyone these days?”

“I don’t mind. I don’t think about it. It’s just a means to get where I want to go.”

She moved quickly, seemingly oblivious to the steep, wet conditions. “Do you fly on private jets?”

“Not often. Olivia, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just curious.” She stepped over protruding tree roots. “The air feels good, but it’s still early to be out on the trails. I have to head straight back. I almost forgot that my parents are coming for dinner. You’re welcome to join us.”

Dinner with the parents. Dylan didn’t think so. “Thanks, but I might go for a drive and see the area before it gets dark.”

“There are stories of ghosts in Quabbin but I’ve never run into one.”

She drifted into silence as they continued down the hill. When they reached the first of the two fields, he said, “I’m glad you wrote to me about the house.”

“I didn’t realize you didn’t know about it. I thought I was writing to your father.” She climbed over the stone wall and jumped into the second field, her breathing shallow, rapid, her face pale. She turned to him with a strained smile. “I suppose I won’t see you again before you leave tomorrow. It’s been a pleasure to meet you. If I can do anything to help with your house here, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Something was off with her. Dylan couldn’t pinpoint what it was. “Thanks.”

She tucked wild strands of hair behind her ears. “That’s what neighbors are for.”

“Olivia, what’s wrong?” he asked again.

She pointed a shaky hand toward her house across the field. “I’m going to pick up my pace.” She tried another faltering smile. “You’re an athlete. You’ll keep up.”

Before she could get two steps, Dylan caught an arm around her middle. “Whoa. Hold on.” He turned her to him. “What’s going on?”

She swallowed, licked her lips and took in a shallow breath. “Nothing. I’m fine.” She cleared her throat and looked up at him. “I got to thinking about too much at once. Boston, freelancing, all I have to do before my mother-daughter tea …”

“My flying back to San Diego set you off. When’s the last time you flew?”

“It’s been a while.”

“‘A while’ for me would be a few weeks. What’s ‘a while’ for you?”

She stiffened but was noticeably calmer. “I don’t like to fly.”

“Ah. This was a bit of a panic attack?”

“It was a bit of an ‘I’d better get the roast out of the freezer’ attack.”

He grinned. “All right. Let’s go get the roast out of the freezer. I might have to stay for dinner after all.”

She shifted her gaze to him. “Sure. That’d be fine.”

She wriggled out of his arm and resumed her course across the field, if at a less manic pace. Dylan watched her, thinking about their conversation, her body language—thinking past his attraction to her to what she was communicating. Being nervous about flying was one thing, but he had a feeling he was on the right track about her and her reasons for returning to Knights Bridge.

He ambled next to her. “Who screwed you over in Boston?”

“What?” She cut him a shocked look. “What are you talking about?”

“A client? A coworker? A friend or boyfriend?”

Her chin snapped up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m right, then.”

“And you love being right.”

She was obviously trying to divert his attention, but he said, “Yes, I do. It pays the bills and most of the time it feels good. Not always. Like right now. I don’t want you to be here because you’re running from someone.”

“I’m not running from anyone or anything. I’m taking the bull by the horns and realizing a dream.”

“The timing’s not on your terms. It’s on the terms of this person who hurt you. I’m guessing…” He slowed his pace deliberately, letting her get ahead of him. “I’m guessing it was a friend.”

She kept going as if he hadn’t said anything.

“A colleague—someone who worked at the same design studio as you?”

He watched her jump over a soggy patch in the field, then caught up with her again. She angled a look at him. “Nobody did anything to me. It was just business.”

“It’s always ‘just business’ when you’re getting screwed. When someone does you a good turn, it’s because they love you. It’s not because you deserve it.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows at him. “That’s cynical, don’t you think?”

“Nope.”

“Eye of the round,” she said abruptly. When Dylan frowned at her, she let her smile broaden. “It’s the roast I’m thawing for dinner tonight.”

He realized he wasn’t getting anything more out of her and stopped trying. Instead, he decided to enjoy being attracted to her as she led the way back over the stone wall to her house. Somehow she’d gotten more mud on her butt. He didn’t mind. Not at all.

Seven

A
fter finishing her last meeting, Jess window-shopped at the expensive stores on Newbury Street, taking the opportunity to appreciate Boston’s slightly warmer temperatures. She was looking at a display of jewelry when her cell phone buzzed and she saw that her sister was calling. “Hey, Liv, what’s up?”

“You have to get back in time for dinner,” Olivia said.

“Why?”

“I’m cooking. I have a roast thawing. I never cook a roast, and here I am…Mom and Dad were supposed to come, but they just called. They had to bail.”

“They did? Why?”

“Problem at the mill. They said it’s nothing serious. Jess, I accidentally invited Dylan McCaffrey, and he’s coming.”

“How do you accidentally invite someone to dinner?”

“I don’t know. I just did.” Olivia gave a mock groan. “I’m not sure I want to be alone with him.”

“Oh, come on, Liv. He’s not a criminal.”

“He’s a rich ex-hockey player,” her sister said, then ran down what she and Maggie O’Dunn had discovered about him. Olivia sighed, calmer. “You’re right. He’s harmless. Never mind. He’s heading back to San Diego tomorrow. The chances of him returning to Knights Bridge are somewhere between slim and none. I’m making myself nuts over nothing.”

“It’s because you saw Mom this morning. Those pictures of California get me going every time. I swear I pick up her anxiety.”

“She’s looking forward to going—”

“Liv, there isn’t a chance in the world she’s making that trip. You know there isn’t. She won’t even drive to Boston. Flying across the country?” Jess moved from the jewelry story to a window decorated with spring clothes on skinny mannequins. “You haven’t been around her that much until lately. It’s bound to get to you.”

“Maybe that’s it.”

“Relax, Liv. Being alone with Dylan McCaffrey can’t be that big a chore. Enjoy having him in town while you can.”

Jess thought Olivia laughed as she hung up. Even if her sister’s laughter was just so Jess wouldn’t worry about her, it was a relief to hear. Bad enough that she had her own wild thinking to deal with—she didn’t want Olivia going down the same path. Olivia couldn’t let herself be influenced by their mother’s anxieties, if such a thing were possible.

“Poor Mom,” Jess said to herself as she turned off Newbury toward Marlborough Street and Olivia’s apartment.

The buds on the magnolias that lined Commonwealth Avenue were almost ready to burst into bloom. Jess noticed clusters of cheerful daffodils in tiny, formal yards in front of the elegant residential buildings and felt her own tension ease. She loved springtime in Boston—springtime anywhere, she supposed, but the city felt so energetic, as if it were coming to life after the long New England winter.

She let herself into Olivia’s apartment using keys she’d given to her.

Big change, she thought, from the fancy jewelry shops on Newbury. The late-afternoon sun wasn’t reaching the apartment. Despite the cheerful colors and the good scrubbing she and Olivia had given the place when she’d moved out, it felt dingy and depressing without her personal items and most of its furniture.

Jess stifled a sudden rush of claustrophobia and opened the window above the sink.

Maybe it was her imagination, but she swore she could smell garbage in the alley. Not just trash, she thought, but actual garbage.

Wrinkling her nose, she walked back into the living room, where she’d left her tote bag on the floor by the couch, one of the few remaining pieces of furniture. She had brought work with her but supposed she could head to a coffee shop or a hotel bar to do it. The apartment seemed so lonely, and wasn’t the idea of spending time in the city to be around people? She wanted crowds. Strangers. She knew almost everyone in Knights Bridge. She wondered if Dylan McCaffrey realized what a big deal his presence was in her little hometown—if Olivia even realized it, since she’d been away for so long.

A rich, good-looking stranger in their midst. A man alone.

A man with secrets.

No wonder Olivia was torn about having him to dinner, Jess thought as she stood in the middle of the near-empty room. At least she couldn’t smell garbage anymore, she thought as she contemplated her options.

She grabbed her tote and headed out again, locking the door behind her. She didn’t have a plan. She just didn’t want to stay alone in her sister’s apartment.

As she ran down the front steps, she noticed a dark gray truck double-parked in front of the building.

Mark.

He rolled down his window. “Hey, good-looking. Where you headed?”

She grinned at him, hoisting her tote onto one shoulder. “Be careful. Someone could be calling 911 now. What are you doing in Boston?”

“I ended up meeting some engineers in Cambridge and decided to cross the river and see if I could find you. I was just going to call, and here you are.”

“Go park,” she said. “I’ll whisk you off to dinner.”

Feeling less agitated, less unfocused and restless, Jess waited by a black lamppost, but Mark got lucky and found a spot at the end of the block. She watched him park and then walk toward her with his long, confident stride. He wore a full-length raincoat but left it open.

“You look like you belong here,” she said. “Mr. Urban.”

“I don’t miss the city.”

“Did you hate living here?”

“Not hate.” He winked at her, coming closer. “Disliked.”

“A country boy at heart,” she said lightly.

“Heart and soul. You, too, Jess. A country girl at heart. What do you have in mind for dinner?”

“There’s a restaurant Olivia likes on Newbury. It’s early. Why don’t we see if they have a table? I’m staying at her apartment tonight. That means I can have wine.”

Mark slung an arm over her shoulders. “I’m meeting the engineers again tomorrow. I thought I’d drive back home tonight, but maybe I’ll stay in town. I can have wine, too.”

“And where were you planning to stay, Mr. Flanagan?”

“Your sister’s apartment—”

“There’s no bed. Just a couch.”

“Pullout?”

“I don’t know.”

He drew her to him and slid his arm to her waist. “Either could work.”

Jess felt warm as they headed back to Newbury Street, then a couple of blocks to the restaurant. They were seated at a small table in the back corner. Jess felt herself beginning to relax. She and Mark settled on an inexpensive red wine—she barely paid attention to what it was—as she marveled at the way her evening had changed.

“How was your day?” Mark asked her.

“Busy. Good. Yours?”

“Dull.” He smiled, then added, “Until a few minutes ago.”

The waiter arrived with their wine, a basket of soft, crusty bread and a bowl of olive oil. They ordered appetizers of spinach gnocchi and eggplant with smoked mozzarella and shared a main dish of fresh seafood over house-made linguine. As she reached for bread, Jess pictured her sister here, meeting clients, enjoying life in the city.

She dipped her bread in the oil. “I’ve never lived anywhere but Knights Bridge,” she said.

Mark eyed her over his wineglass. “Lucky you.”

“I know. I love it there. It’s home. I don’t want to live anywhere else. I just…” She ate a bite of her bread as she watched another young couple enter the restaurant and wondered what their lives were like. Were they engaged? Just getting to know each other? She shook off her questions and picked up her wineglass. “Never mind. I can see us buying land in Knights Bridge. Then you’ll design us a wonderful house—”

“If that’s what you want,” Mark said quietly.

Although not officially engaged, Jess realized that they often talked comfortably about a future together. “It’s what I want. Of course.” She stopped herself, suddenly out of sorts. She didn’t understand why. This man she adored had found her in Boston, and they were having a lovely dinner together—and she was impatient and irritable. She drank some of her wine. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s got into me.”

He shrugged. “Nah. You’re fine. Long day.”

“You don’t have to make excuses for me, Mark.”

“Okay. You’re a crazy bitch—”

She laughed. “All right, all right. Let’s change the subject.”

He settled back with his wine. “What’s up with Olivia and this Dylan McCaffrey?”

“I don’t know. He’s going back to San Diego in the morning.”

“He’s rich. You know that, right? I don’t care one way or the other, but I wouldn’t have expected a partner in a high-tech entertainment company to take a personal interest in an old house in Knights Bridge.”

“His father left it to him. Maybe that’s why. Olivia’s having him over for dinner tonight, but I doubt we’ll ever hear from him again after tomorrow.” Even as Jess spoke, her words didn’t feel quite right. She couldn’t put her finger on why not. “Have you ever been to San Diego?”

“Once.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Mark smiled over his wineglass at her. “You have wanderlust, Jess.”

Their appetizers arrived, and she tried the gnocchi, relishing the mix of flavors. “I want to travel,” she said. “That doesn’t mean I don’t love Knights Bridge. I don’t fantasize about living somewhere else—”

“Yes, you do.”

She stabbed more gnocchi and said without looking at him, “Don’t tell me what I think, Mark.”

“Sorry. That’s not what I meant to do. I just want you to say what’s on your mind. Don’t pretend to feel something you don’t feel. If you want to try living somewhere else, we can figure that out.”

“I’m glad you said ‘we.’”

His eyes narrowed on her for a moment, then he tried the eggplant. “You picked a good restaurant.”

Jess tried the eggplant, too. “No wonder Olivia loves this place. She never saw herself staying in Boston forever. I think she’s leaving sooner than she planned, but she was so thrilled when her house came on the market and she could afford to buy it.”

“It’s a risk giving up her job.”

“I’m not sure she had a choice, but she won’t talk about it.” Jess tried more of the gnocchi and eggplant, drank more wine, listened to the murmurs of the other diners as the restaurant filled up. “I’ve never wanted to live anywhere else, but sometimes I think I should want to. Do you know what I mean?”

She half expected him to say no, he didn’t, or to make a joke, but instead he nodded thoughtfully. “I think I do. I left Knights Bridge because I had to—for school. Then I stayed away because what I wanted to do was in the city. I discovered at heart I’m a hometown guy.” He glanced down at his plate. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”