That Night on Thistle Lane (29 page)

“That’s because I’m not a snake.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, I’m not always a snake. I can be when the situation calls for some slithering. I tried to be discreet with my scrutiny of Dylan and Noah, if that helps any.”

Loretta shook her head. “It doesn’t.”

“It was easier in Boston. Any stranger would stand out in Sleepy Hollow, but I really did. I had this thing in my head that I was looking into rich guys and should therefore try to blend in with them.”

“Should have left the Rolex at home, huh?”

“I’m just saying that I can see how people thought I was sneaking around.”

“You were sneaking around,” Loretta said.

“If I’d been sneaking around, no one would have ever known.” His dark eyes narrowed on her. No smile or hint of humor now. “Trust me on that, Loretta.”

“Am I supposed to be intimidated?”

He surprised her by laughing. “Damn, you’re a pain in the ass. I wanted to know what was going on with your two pals and this Sleepy Hollow little town in Massachusetts. That’s all.”

“That’s not all, and Dylan and Noah can take care of themselves.” Loretta squinted out at the ocean, added without looking at him, “Are you providing intel to NAK corporate enemies?”

“Let’s not play twenty questions, Loretta.”

She ignored him. “The NAK board? Do Noah and Dylan have personal enemies I don’t know about?”

A breeze off the water lifted the ends of Hartley’s gray-streaked dark hair but he didn’t seem to notice. “Noah needs to decide what’s next for him. It’s driving the NAK board crazy not to know if he’s going to try to run things there or open a fencing studio. But he knows that. You know that.”

Loretta tightened her hands into fists at her sides. “You spied on my friends and you used me to do it.”

“No one uses you, Loretta. I outwitted you. There’s a difference.”

She raised her chin at him. Not all men were taller than she was. “I’m going to find out what you’re really up to.”

He didn’t seem that threatened. “You understand I have to respect attorney-client privilege.”

“You’re not an attorney. You’re a sleazy private investigator.”

“Part right. I’m a private investigator. I’m not sleazy. Which you know. You’re just irritated because you’re not in control of what’s going on. You haven’t been since Duncan McCaffrey left Dylan that house in Knights Bridge and you didn’t know the whole story.” Hartley had some sympathy in his expression now. “You didn’t know Dylan would go out there and fall for Olivia Frost.”

“I’m glad he did,” Loretta said stubbornly.

“You’re glad he has someone in his life. You wish it was a woman from La Jolla instead of an out-of-the-way little town on the other side of the country. Now Noah’s falling for this redheaded librarian.” Hartley’s sympathy turned to a knowing grin. “I can just see you at the Knights Bridge Free Public Library. It’s haunted, you know.”

Of course it was haunted. Loretta forced her palms open, tried to release some of her pent-up tension as Hartley pivoted and walked back down the steps without another word.

She inhaled deeply. She’d never been good with men.

She called to him. “Do you like Mexican food?”

He glanced up at her. “I hate it.”

“I love it.” She followed him down to the sidewalk. “There’s a great place down the street. You can have a salad. Let’s go. We can walk.”

“You’re the most difficult woman I’ve ever met. I think that’s why I like you.” He angled her a knowing look. “Is Kendrick meeting us at this restaurant?”

Loretta didn’t bother hiding her surprise.

“This one wasn’t even hard to figure out,” Hartley said with a bark of a laugh. “You’d have had me meet you in La Jolla at your office if you weren’t involving Dylan and Noah.”

“Mr. McCaffrey and Mr. Kendrick to you,” she said, sounding petty even to herself.

“Sure thing, Loretta. I have a son their age. He probably wants me to call him Mister, too.”

“A son?”

He grinned at her. “Relax. I’m divorced.”

She didn’t relax but she didn’t want to kill him as much as she had twenty minutes ago. They walked to a cluster of shops and restaurants, and for seconds—or maybe only one second—she pictured them as one of the honeymooning couples at the Hotel del Coronado. She’d never been married. Never had kids. Dylan’s engagement had her thinking about what might have been, even if she had a good life, even if she had no regrets.

No serious regrets, anyway.

They got a table in the courtyard of the bustling restaurant. Loretta ordered a margarita and guacamole made fresh at the table. Hartley ordered a beer.

She dipped a warm tortilla chip into chunky, spicy salsa. “You’re going to tell Noah and me everything.”

“No, I’m not. You know better than to ask.”

“Then you are working for an attorney.”

“I’m not saying.”

“Why did you come if you’re going to stonewall?”

His beer arrived. “Because you asked nicely.”

She hadn’t, but whatever. “What did you think of Knights Bridge?”

“I suffered. Goats, Loretta.” He drank some of his beer, helped himself to a chip and salsa. “Olivia Frost and the O’Dunn sisters are making soap out of the goat’s milk.”

“Goat’s milk soap is nice.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Hartley…”

“Julius, okay?”

Loretta helped herself to another chip. “Julius, did you check out the goats?”

“Almost. I pretended I was going to buy one.”

“And they bought that?”

“No.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “The O’Dunns and their allies were about to get out the hot tar and pitchforks, so I made my exit. They’re little goats, by the way. Nigerian Dwarf goats.”

Loretta felt laughter bubbling up despite how mad she was. “Have you ever seen a goat in real life?”

“The zoo.” He sat back, looking at ease, comfortable in his own skin. “Then there are the herbs for the soaps. The nineteenth-century library. The town common with its Civil War statue. The country store.”

“It sounds idyllic.”

“It’s pretty,” Hartley said, making it sound like a concession.

“Dylan says not to be fooled,” Loretta said. “Despite any evidence to the contrary, time hasn’t stopped in Knights Bridge.”

“Time never stops, does it?”

Loretta heard a note of wistfulness in Julius’s voice, or thought she did. Maybe she was projecting. Maybe that was why she hadn’t figured out what was going on with him to begin with. She’d wanted him to be someone he wasn’t because she herself was coming to terms with the changes in her life. She’d been Dylan’s attorney and business manager for a long time. She’d loved his father, even if for a short time.

“I’ll have to see Knights Bridge myself soon,” she said, digging into the fresh salsa. “Dylan and Olivia have invited me to their wedding.”

“It’s at Christmas, you know.”

She nodded. “So I get to go there when it’s freezing. I’ll have to find myself a cute country inn with a fireplace, flowered wallpaper and a decent liquor cabinet.”

Their waiter whipped together their guacamole and set it on the table with fresh, warm chips. Julius helped himself. Their table was pleasant, shaded by potted trees. Deep pink bougainvillea cascaded over a wall.

Finally he said, “Dylan and Noah are decent guys.”

“Yes, I know.”

“They’re independent. Defiant, even. They do things their own way.”

“What’s Phoebe O’Dunn like?” Loretta asked.

“From what I saw and heard, she’s smart, positive, encouraging and genuinely nice.”

“And?”

“And protective of her family. She looks out for them.”

“Who looks out for her?”

“She’d say they look out for each other. Maybe they do, but she’s stuck there.”

“Maybe your idea of ‘stuck’ is her idea of fulfilling herself.”

“That was before Noah Kendrick spotted her at that masquerade ball. Getting involved with a billionaire…” Julius shrugged. “Easier to fall for one of the local firefighters but she hasn’t. She’ll sacrifice herself if she thinks her family needs her. She’s done it before.”

Before Loretta could ask more questions, Noah arrived and joined them at their table. He was centered, focused and clearly on a mission. He was a man, she knew, who did best when he had a purpose, a result he was going after. Aimlessness didn’t suit him.

Julius picked up his beer, took another deliberate sip. “How’s Sleepy Hollow and your librarian? Same as ever?”

Noah leveled a cool gaze on him. “Phoebe is getting ready for the vintage fashion show at the library. You know about that, right, Julius?”

“I saw something about it when I was in Knights Bridge.”

“You knew about the fashion show before you arrived there. It’s what prompted you to check me out in the first place.”

Loretta frowned and noticed that Julius had gone silent. She glanced at Noah, but his gaze was fixed on the older man across from him.

Noah reached for his water glass. “It was logical to assume that I was the one who brought you to Knights Bridge, but it’s not that simple.” He sat back, as in control as Loretta had ever seen him. “You knew that Dylan and his work with NAK, his friendship with me, could bring scrutiny to Knights Bridge. Could change things there. You figured out Phoebe must have discovered the hidden room where your client sewed and designed dresses as a young woman.”

Loretta held on tight to her margarita. Olivia and Dylan had told her about the hidden sewing room in the Knights Bridge library attic. She’d figured that sort of thing happened in small-town New England. She’d liked the idea of the Hollywood-inspired dresses. She hadn’t considered—not even for a split-second—that they had anything to do with Julius Hartley.

“That hidden room,” Noah said, “is why you checked me out here in San Diego and why you followed me to Boston. It’s why you went to Knights Bridge. You weren’t just checking on me there. You were checking on the O’Dunns. Specifically, on Phoebe.”

“It didn’t take long. She’s what we call an open book.” Hartley smiled, added, “No pun intended.”

“Debbie Sanderson is the given name of the woman who created the hidden room.” Noah kept his eyes on the man across the table. “She lived in Knights Bridge for a year. Then she took off for Hollywood and reinvented herself.”

“Are you speculating, or do you have facts to back up this claim?” Julius asked.

Noah pointed his water at him. “You’re protecting Debbie Sanderson’s new identity.”

Julius sighed. “You MIT types are just so damn smart, aren’t you?”

Loretta let all the pieces fall into place in her own mind. She set her margarita on the table and looked at Julius. “What did she have you do, watch for Knights Bridge in the news?”

“She does that herself,” he said. “She saw a gossip piece saying that Dylan was engaged to a graphic designer from Knights Bridge. She read about his hockey years, his treasure-hunter father, his best friend the billionaire founder of NAK.”

“Did she have you investigate, or did you volunteer?” Loretta asked.

“She’s a very special lady.”

Meaning he’d volunteered, Loretta thought.

“I’m the one who told her about the fashion show,” Julius said. “She knew it meant her room had been discovered. With you and Dylan in the picture, I had to investigate.”

“What’s her name now?” Noah asked quietly.

Hartley didn’t answer.

Noah leaned forward. “It’s Daphne Stewart, isn’t it?”

Julius looked uncomfortable but said nothing, and Loretta decided to give up on her margarita. She frowned at the two men. “Who’s Daphne Stewart?”

“She’s a highly respected independent costume designer in Hollywood,” Noah said, his eyes still on Julius. “She’s worked on any number of movies. Daphne Stewart is the name she gave herself after she left Knights Bridge forty years ago and headed west.”

“She guards her privacy.” Julius suddenly wasn’t as cocky. “You of all people can understand that.”

Noah’s expression softened. “I won’t intrude on her privacy. Neither will Dylan. Is she a friend?”

“She’s become one, yes. She’s a client with a law firm I do a lot of work for. She’s got a keen sense of drama. She likes knowing a private investigator.” Julius seemed slightly less shaken by Noah’s knowledge. “What about Olivia and Phoebe O’Dunn and her family?”

“What do you think?” Noah asked, his tone as steady and controlled as ever. “Do you think they want to intrude on Miss Stewart’s privacy?”

Julius sighed. “I’ve already told her that it’s my judgment that they don’t and her privacy and anonymity are safe if that’s what she wants. Is Phoebe using any of Daphne’s dresses in the show?”

“I spoke to her a little while ago,” Noah said. “The library will only use the dresses with Miss Stewart’s permission, now that she knows her identity. Even if the library can claim the contents of the sewing room she created, they won’t. Miss Stewart is free to reclaim anything she left behind.”

Loretta shifted her attention from Julius to Noah. “Have you seen this secret sewing room?” she asked.

Noah nodded. “It’s just as Miss Stewart left it at twenty-one.” He steadied his gaze again on Julius. “Please let her know that the people of Knights Bridge would welcome her anytime she’d like to return.”

Julius raised an eyebrow. “Phoebe told you that?”

Noah didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Loretta sat forward. “Is she here in San Diego?”

“Not now, no,” Noah said, his tone unreadable.

“Phoebe figured out that Debbie Sanderson and Daphne Stewart are one and the same?” Julius asked.

“With the help of her sisters.” Noah drank more of his water before he continued. “Miss Stewart left a number of books behind in the house she rented while she lived in Knights Bridge.”

“Phoebe’s house now,” Julius added.

“That’s right. Rebecca, The Moonspinners.”

“Daphne du Maurier and Mary Stewart,” Loretta said. “Daphne Stewart.”

Noah smiled for the first time. “Exactly. Phoebe and her sisters figured out that the Debbie Sanderson who worked at the Knights Bridge library forty years ago and sewed dresses secretly in the attic had to be Daphne Stewart of Hollywood.”

“I’ll be damned.” Loretta grinned. “I read Daphne du Maurier and Mary Stewart as a kid. I love their books.”