The Spring at Moss Hill (14 page)

Fourteen

R
uss joined Dylan for coffee on the stone terrace off the Carriage Hill kitchen. Lunch had been every bit as good as it had smelled. The minestrone soup and the oatmeal bread, fresh out of the oven, had been hearty, filling and just what he needed after his unpredictable morning.

Olivia had eaten a few bites before excusing herself. Maggie had left before lunch to run errands.

The air had turned breezy and cool. Russ warmed his hands on his coffee mug. He grinned at Dylan. “Loretta warned me I could regret not packing a parka.”

Dylan laughed. “Sounds like her. Knights Bridge definitely isn't Southern California.”

“You're adapting if we're having coffee out here.”

“So I am,” he said, his satisfaction with his new life obvious as he sat across from Russ at the wood table. Dylan sat straight, looking like the successful corporate executive he was. “Loretta wants me to talk to you about security.”

Russ nodded, grateful Dylan had spared him from having to figure out how to broach the subject. “I'm an investigator with Sawyer & Sawyer these days, but I know a bit about security.”

“From your navy days,” Dylan added.

“I'd be happy to help in any way I can.”

“Knights Bridge has a low crime rate, but our new ventures will draw more people here. I don't lie awake nights worrying about trouble, but I realize we need to be proactive. Noah does, too. We're used to considering security when we're in San Diego. Here...it's a different story.”

Russ got that. Winding roads, old mills, a covered bridge, a country store—it would be easy to get lulled into a false sense of security, even if Knights Bridge wasn't exactly San Diego. “How do your wife and Noah's fiancée feel about beefing up security here?”

“Phoebe and Olivia grew up here. Knights Bridge is their hometown. They like to think nothing's changed, but they know better. You probably noticed we installed an alarm system up the road.” Dylan smiled. “It might be the first one in Knights Bridge.”

“What about here?” Russ asked.

“Locks. No alarm system. Working on it, though.”

It was a start. “Good security doesn't have to be intrusive. There's what you see and what you don't see.”

“Yeah.”

Russ gazed at the idyllic setting. Mulched walks marked off the raised flower and herb beds, which extended to a small garden shed. He waited, sensing Dylan had more to say.

“Phoebe's having more trouble than Olivia adjusting to heightened security.” Dylan waved a hand. “She and Noah will work it out. He'd do anything for her.”

As Dylan would for Olivia, Russ thought. According to Loretta and Julius, and from what Russ had learned so far on his own, Olivia Frost McCaffrey and Phoebe O'Dunn were self-sufficient, independent women, no doubt as supportive of the men in their lives as they were of them.

For no good reason Russ could think of, he wondered what kind of support system Kylie Shaw had. Who was helping her navigate her new world as Morwenna Mills? From what he'd seen, for the most part she had only herself—whether by design or not, he couldn't guess.

“Where are Noah and Phoebe now?” he asked.

“Noah's winery,” Dylan said. “They'll be flying here for a few days soon. Phoebe's fallen in love with California.”

“The winery's on the central coast, isn't it?”

Dylan nodded. “Noah's folks retired up there.” He stretched out his thick legs, eyeing Russ. “Anything to these rumors about Moss Hill?”

“Mark Flanagan and Chris Sloan don't think so. Nothing serious, at least.”

“The Sloans are a hard-driving lot in a tough business. They're fair-minded and solid, but they're bound to annoy a few people from time to time, and they often have to make difficult decisions. They did with their work for me. Mark comes across as more easygoing than your average Sloan, but he's dedicated and exacting. I don't know much about the construction of Moss Hill. Here, though...” Dylan shrugged. “I can't remember any particular altercations. A few accidents, a near heart attack. That sort of thing.”

“Kylie Shaw?”

Dylan didn't seem surprised by mention of her name. “I don't know Kylie at all. No help there. You don't think she's responsible for this talk, do you?”

Russ shook his head. “I don't.”

“There's worrisome talk and there's just talk. Which is this?”

“I'd be speculating.”

“All right. Fair enough.” Dylan set his coffee mug on the table. “We should talk more.”

A broad-shouldered, dark-haired man who could only be a Sloan came out through the mudroom. Dylan introduced him as Brandon Sloan, Maggie's husband and a carpenter with his family construction firm. He was also working with Dylan on adventure travel.

“I just saw Olivia,” Brandon said. “She says she'll be out soon, and you should plan to grab your shovel, Dylan, because she wants to spread the last of the bark mulch.”

“Lucky me,” Dylan said. “A year ago I didn't know what bark mulch was.”

Brandon grinned. “I guess she's feeling better.”

The conversation turned to plans for the initial adventure travel outings. It was just getting off the ground, and Russ gathered they were still working out any kinks, figuring out what the opportunities and obstacles were. Carriage Hill would provide lodging and meals for local adventure-travel outings but mostly for the entrepreneurial boot camp.

“Maggie's stretched too thin, with catering, this place and the goat's milk soaps, and Olivia—” Brandon shrugged. “She loves keeping her hand in, but she can't do everything, either. They're planning to hire a professional innkeeper. They could use the help.”

“No doubt,” Russ said. “What kind of adventure travel do you have in mind?”

“It doesn't have to be physically daring or demanding,” Dylan said. “We'll see how it develops. We're planning a trip to Newfoundland in August.”

“Newfoundland is beautiful,” Russ said.

The two men looked surprised. “You've been to Newfoundland?” Brandon asked.

Russ smiled. “Whales, icebergs and stunning scenery.”

“Perfect,” Dylan said.

“Before I forget,” Brandon said, “Maggie says you're invited to dinner at her mother's place tonight. Six o'clock. Call if you need directions.”

“Thanks.”

“Maggie says Kylie's welcome, too.”

Russ nodded. “I'll let her know.”

“Great.”

Brandon got to work, and Olivia came out, her color back. Dylan stood. Time to fetch his shovel.

Russ brought his coffee mug into the kitchen. He was struck by the contrast with the kitchen at Julius Hartley's house in Hollywood Hills. He hadn't been here a full three days, and this little town and its people had wormed their way into his system.

He drove back to Moss Hill. Mark's offices were bustling. A dozen cars were in the parking lot, including Kylie's Mini. But her bike wasn't on the rack.

Russ sat on a bench on the breezeway to wait for her.

She cruised into the parking lot ten minutes later. He noticed she almost lost her footing on her bike when she saw him. Instead, she jumped off, removed her helmet and gave him a pleasant smile, as if she'd planned what to do if she came back from her bike ride and found him sitting there.

“I thought I was done with bike rides today,” she said, “but I got a firmer idea for my wolf. Thanks to Buster, of course.”

“How does that relate to a bike ride?”

“I needed to let him simmer.”

“Ah.” Russ got to his feet. “We're invited to dinner at the O'Dunns tonight.”

“We? Meaning—”

“The two of us. We can take my car this time. Yours really is little.”

“Yes, it is.”

Color rose in her cheeks and something else in her eyes—desire, he thought. Pure and simple. He couldn't say what was in his eyes. Desire probably was a good start.

“I was planning to work the rest of the day. I can see
Little Red Riding Hood
now. It's not bits and pieces in my mind anymore. Being out at Carriage Hill this morning helped.”

“You create visual narratives with your work.”

She smiled. “Exactly.”

He winked at her. “I saw that on your website.” Her Kylie Shaw website, he thought. “What do you say? Shall I knock on your door at five-thirty?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “See you then.”

And she bolted, yanking open the door to the residential building and disappearing, as if she wanted to get away from him before she could change her mind about dinner.

Russ saw he had a text from Marty.
We're out of Chambord. I'm afraid to tell Daphne.

She'll live.

How's KB?

I'm off to look at the ducks on the river.

Let me know if you need me to spring you.

Russ laughed. This place was Marty's idea of hell. A small town, a quiet river, a renovated hat factory and ducks.

He headed around back to the dam. He took a few photos and texted them to Marty. He'd have to be sure to take some pictures of the O'Dunn goats at dinner tonight.

His big brother in Hollywood would appreciate goats.

Fifteen

K
ylie brought her bottle of expensive champagne to dinner. It was all she could think of in a pinch. Elly O'Dunn appraised the label with a low whistle. She was in her fifties, with graying red hair, freckles and a casual manner—Kylie could see why people told her things. A widow for ten years, Elly had managed to hang on to the house she'd built with her husband on the other side of town, out toward Echo Lake. Kylie had ridden her bike to the lake last fall, taking in the colorful foliage.

“This is the good stuff,” Elly said. “What are we celebrating?”

Figuring out her plans for
Little Red Riding Hood
wasn't enough. “Moss Hill's opening and how well it's going,” Kylie said. “First apartment rented, first event—worth celebrating.”

“Works for me. I'll fetch glasses.”

Elly went inside. She'd set up a buffet-style dinner on a table on the screened back porch, a cozy, comfortable spot with mismatched chairs and flowerpots lined up on the floor, ready for planting. Russ had gone out to investigate a large vegetable garden tilled and partially planted for the season. He'd managed to produce a bunch of daffodils for Elly, probably from the country store since Kylie couldn't fathom him picking them, never mind where he'd have found any available for picking. He was a man of surprises.

Ruby joined him, pointing toward pens where her mother's dozen-plus Nigerian Dwarf goats pranced. When her husband had been killed in a tragic wood-cutting accident ten years ago, Elly had started raising goats to help her cope with her grief. Phoebe had told Kylie the story at the library last summer, before Noah Kendrick had arrived in town and swept her off her feet, pretty much literally.

Mark and Jess Flanagan arrived for dinner, and finally Christopher Sloan. Russ and Ruby came in from the garden, and Elly handed out glasses and poured the champagne. “Courtesy of our Kylie,” she said cheerfully.

The toast to Moss Hill seemed to go over well. Kylie relaxed slightly, aware of Russ watching her as she sat in a comfortable chair by the screen. It was a cool evening, but the air felt good after the long winter. The porch was just enough shelter to keep it from being too cold to stay outside, and Elly had brought out a stack of blankets. Kylie imagined snuggling up under one with Russ. She was so shocked at the turn her mind had taken she almost shot out of the chair and excused herself—but he was her ride back to Moss Hill.

Mark stayed on his feet, his champagne in one hand. “Whoever the crank is who made the comments about Moss Hill, it's got a clean bill of health. The rumors will sort themselves out.”

Chris Sloan nodded. “Ruby insisted I check out the place. I hope it helped.”

She bristled. “I didn't insist.”

“All that matters right now is Moss Hill is set for Saturday,” Jess Flanagan said mildly.

Chris helped himself to a beer out of a cooler. He'd downed the champagne in a couple of quick swallows. “There seems to be a lot of drama around Daphne Stewart.”

“She's that kind of personality,” Ruby said, instantly combative.

“No crime in that,” Chris said.

Ruby crossed her arms tightly on her chest, her cheeks visibly flushed even from where Kylie was sitting. Chris looked as if he had no idea what he'd said wrong and would rather be anywhere else.

“I hope you weren't upset by all this, Kylie,” Ruby said, her tone softening. “It hasn't affected your work, has it? You must need a certain atmosphere to get into the spirt of illustrating children's books.”

Kylie resisted the temptation to glance at Russ. “No problem.” She noticed Elly O'Dunn by the door. “This place is great, Elly. Are goats a lot of work?”

It wasn't the subtlest change in subject, but it did the trick as Elly launched into a description of what was involved in raising goats.

Ruby shot away from Chris, who looked as if he might seize the moment to retreat but managed to stay put. She went to the table, laid out with cold hors d'oeuvres. She grabbed a triangle of cheese and turned to Russ. “Maggie told me about this morning. Olivia was sick to her stomach while walking Buster. Gad, I hope it's not a bug. That's all we need going around town, with or without Daphne arriving.”

“Food poisoning would be worse since Olivia runs an inn,” Chris said.

Ruby shot him a look. “No kidding.”

Definitely a little tension there, Kylie thought. But she wasn't about to break her promise to Olivia about her pregnancy. “Olivia was feeling much better when I left.”

“That's good.” Ruby narrowed her eyes as if she suspected there was more to the story, but she turned to Russ. “Maggie said you were there, too. You're not getting us at our best, are you? First, rumors and then this.”

“I was glad to help,” he said. “I enjoyed meeting her and her husband, and your sister and her husband.”

“My big brother, Brandon,” Chris said with an easy grin.

“He's good to Maggie,” Ruby said. “Typical Sloan, it took some doing to get him to see what she and the boys meant to him.”

“Ruby,” her mother said. “You okay?”

“Yes. Sure. Sorry.” She grabbed a slice of apple and added it to her cheese. “Olivia's place is great, isn't it? Not everything in Knights Bridge is that quaint and pretty, but it sure is.”

Russ agreed, and Ruby went inside to help her mother bring out food, refusing any additional help. The conversation on the porch shifted to the Red Sox and the start of the baseball season. Kylie didn't bring up her last Red Sox game and her seventh-inning departure.

Ruby, who lived in Boston, scoffed as she set a large bowl of salad on the table. “The only baseball games I've sat through start to finish were ones my little nephews were playing in.” She smiled at Russ and Kylie. “They're five and seven.”

Elly came out with a bowl of steaming tortellini. “Dinner is served,” she said cheerfully. “I hope you don't mind eating off your laps.”

No one minded. Ruby sat next to Kylie. She seemed eager for company—an ally, maybe, in avoiding Chris Sloan and whatever was going on between them. They struck Kylie as friends who should remain friends. With Ruby's sister Maggie married to Chris's brother Brandon, their relationship was already complicated. But Kylie didn't pretend to know anything about romance. After all, her main companion was a stuffed badger.

“Tell us about yourself, Kylie,” Elly said. “Did you always want to be an illustrator?”

“Once I knew what one was,” she said lightly.

Mark opened a beer bottle. “Where did you live before Knights Bridge?”

Kylie noticed Russ settled back in his chair, watching her. “I've bounced around quite a bit,” she said. “It's one of the perks of being a freelance artist. I'm not tied to an office, so why not work in, say, a little town in Massachusetts?”

“I think I'd work in Paris,” Jess said with a laugh.

“I did for a short time, as a matter of fact.”

“Good for you,” Elly said. “I hope there was a handsome Frenchman involved.”

Kylie sidestepped that one. “Paris is great, but I love it here. I haven't done much traveling this past year. I have business in Los Angeles that I've been putting off.” She decided to draw Russ into the conversation. “You mentioned you're new there. How do you like it?”

“No complaints,” he said.

“You must have interesting clients,” Elly said. “We're all fascinated by Daphne Stewart and her long Hollywood career. I think deep down Ruby wants to try her hand in Hollywood. What do you think, Ruby?”

Chris Sloan's gaze was on her as she hesitated. “I can't do both Hollywood and a children's theater here.”

“Maybe this theater idea is a diversion,” Chris said. “It feels safe compared to Hollywood.”

“Maybe I'm looking for a way to do what I love and still stay in Knights Bridge.”

He shrugged. “Your decision. No one here is holding you back from doing what you want.”

“I appreciate that,” she said softly.

Jess Flanagan put her plate on a tray on the table and smiled at Russ. “Chris has known what he wanted to do since he was three. My mother remembers him in his little red firefighter hat.”

“Works out that way sometimes,” Russ said. “It's great you're doing what you've always wanted, Chris.”

“I'm fortunate,” he said.

“You are who you are.” Ruby's voice was just above a whisper. “I need to be who I am.”

Kylie glanced from Ruby to Chris, taking measure of the tension between them. If Ruby pursued an acting career in Hollywood, it was clear it would mean the end of her relationship with Christopher Sloan. He wasn't interested in being a firefighter in LA. He wanted to stay in his hometown.

He got up, thanking Elly for dinner. “If you pin down these rumors about Moss Hill, let me know.”

“I will, Chris. I wish I hadn't said anything.”

He shook his head. “Always speak up.” He grinned at her. “Not that you need to be told.” He turned to the rest of the dinner guests. “Mark, Jess, you need anything else from me before Saturday, give me a shout. Russ and Kylie, good to see you. Ruby—”

“I'll walk out with you,” she said, jumping to her feet.

Elly watched them, frowning, as they went out the screened porch door, but she said nothing.

“Come on, Elly,” Jess said. “Have a seat and relax with your company. Mark and I will get the dishes.”

“Dishes can wait. Sit. Relax.”

Which is what Jess did, snuggling next to Mark on a comfy-looking outdoor couch. When Ruby returned, she dove into the conversation, no sign any longer of her tension about the rumors, Saturday or Christopher Sloan.

Elly O'Dunn was gracious when the evening came to an end. “Thank you again for the champagne, Kylie. It was wonderful. We must find more reasons to celebrate.”

Kylie smiled. “I like that idea.”

It was dark when she finally sat next to Russ in his rental car. “See what I mean about the night sky here?”

“I do, indeed,” he said. “It's something on a clear night.”

“It was a pleasant evening. Ruby's figuring out her life. I remember when I was finishing up art school and entertaining the possibilities. But my hometown didn't have the pull on me that Knights Bridge does her.”

“No buff firefighter was waiting at home for you?”

Kylie laughed. “There was not. Would it be so bad if Ruby decided to give up her dreams of Hollywood to stay here, open a community theater, live a different life from the one she's imagined for herself?”

“Depends on the reasons, I guess.”

“Chris Sloan might have fallen for ambitious, anything-is-possible Ruby O'Dunn, but he has no interest in giving up his job here for a life in LA.”

“What if he sacrificed a solid, secure job and his life here and she hated LA?”

“Too soon for a relationship, maybe.” Kylie gazed out her window at the dark landscape and the sprinkle of bright stars in the night sky. “We're all lucky to have such options in our lives.”

“We are. You were fun tonight. Personable.”

She turned and smiled at him. “Surprised?”

“Not really. I noticed that was one expensive bottle of champagne.”

“It was good, wasn't it?”

“Very good.” He was silent a moment. “Nice that Morwenna Mills can afford it.”

* * *

“Sherlock did me in, didn't he?” Kylie stared out at the river. They were almost to Moss Hill. She hadn't said a word since Russ had made his comment. “I swear I could have stuffed him in a cupboard and he'd have found a way to sneak out and blow my cover. It was time. Past time.”

“He's been telling you that, has he?”

“Sherlock and I have a unique relationship.”

“Ah.”

“How did you know he wasn't some little badger I'd picked up in Boston or Paris or wherever?”

“I could tell you'd sanitized your work area, and he got my attention—I had a gut feeling you'd overlooked him.”

“Sanitized? That sounds like spies and antibacterial wipes were involved. I just grabbed anything that would invite questions or give me away.” She sighed. “I swear Sherlock hid while I was cleaning up.”

“He looks handmade.”

“He is. I prefer drawing, but I have my crafty moments. Sometimes I have to remind him he's made out of scraps and dryer lint.”

Russ slowed for a curve. She couldn't tell in the dark if he was smiling, trying not to smile, definitely not smiling. “I didn't recognize Sherlock,” he said. “I don't have little kids to read to. But, it wasn't hard to figure him out.”

“Don't tell him that. He likes to think he's mysterious.”

“Should I call you Morwenna now?”

“No one calls me Morwenna. I suppose if I do media and events I'll be Morwenna, but my agent, editor—no.”

“But you don't do media and appearances.”

“Some media early on. None lately, and no appearances.”

“Will this last?”

She didn't hesitate. “No.” She looked up at Moss Hill, looming against the starlit sky. She wouldn't mind being at her spring now, even in the dark. “Did you Google
badger dressed as Sherlock Holmes
? Is that how you figured him out?”

“I snapped a photo of him while you weren't looking and texted it to my brother, Marty, in LA. He recognized Sherlock right away. Marty's like that. He won't say anything.”

“I appreciate that. You could sound contrite about sneaking a photo of Sherlock, though.”

“I could, but I'm not contrite.”

“You don't do contrite, do you?”

“I can't think of a time. Maybe when I was ten.”

“Were you nervous? I didn't notice you breaking out into a cold sweat. Did your heart beat rapidly?”

“Because I was sneaking a picture of a stuffed badger?”