That Night on Thistle Lane (23 page)

It had turned into that kind of night.

They’d made such a damn mess of their marriage. It was all she’d thought about walking home from Thistle Lane. Maggie realized that something about the box of books they’d dragged out of Phoebe’s upstairs closet had gotten to her. It was as if the books captured a moment in time of a woman’s life, provided a window into her hopes and dreams. Sewing and Hollywood and adventures.

What would the odds and ends of her own day-to-day life say about her, now, at this moment?

Maggie pushed back the thought. “The hockey is probably Dylan’s influence,” she said.

It was a gibe and Brandon obviously knew it, but he didn’t jump up and storm off. He just stretched out his thick legs and shrugged. “Maybe it is.”

Maggie regretted her crack. Whatever his faults—whatever her own faults—he’d always been there for the boys. Just not always for her. But she didn’t need him, right? Wasn’t that what she’d been telling herself for months? Telling him?

“I have ice skates in the budget for winter,” she said. “The town still does the small outdoor rink on the common.” It was just a homemade rink done mostly with hoses and shovels, a Knights Bridge tradition going back at least to when her mother was a child. “The boys and I will be able to walk over there so they can skate to their hearts’ content. I think I even have my old skates.”

“I remember when you and I would go ice-skating together,” Brandon said.

Maggie smiled despite a rush of emotion. “You were a maniac. All that energy. What am I going to do if Tyler and Aidan have as much energy as teenagers as you did?”

“Keep doing what you’re doing.”

“And watch them like a hawk,” she muttered.

Brandon grinned. “Like I said, keep doing what you’re doing.” He looked out at the street, just one window lit in the saltbox house, one of the oldest houses in the village, opposite hers. “You like living in town. The boys do, too. They like being able to walk to everything.”

“You think I’m too soft,” Maggie said, crossing her arms on her chest as she sat up straight. “I’m not raising them to be tough Sloan men. I have them doing story hour at the library instead of roping a steer.”

“Roping a steer? I guess they could rope goats at your mother’s—”

“Goats are soft, too, right? She has a well-equipped toolshed, at least. It’s got hammers, nails, drills, saws. No guns and fire hoses, though.”

Brandon sighed. “What did I say, Maggie?”

“Nothing. I can tell what you’re thinking.” She stood up, glaring down at him in the dark, on a roll now, her emotions boiling over. “You and your family have always thought I was too soft, because my father was such a dreamer and then he died in a stupid accident and it’s just been my sisters and my mother and me for so long.”

“Your father was a good man, Maggie, but he still left you all with nothing.”

“We have the land. We’ve all worked hard to help Mom hang on to it. Tyler and Aidan love it out there.”

“I know they do.” He stood, the light from the house casting dark shadows on his face. “You’re coping with a lot on your own, Maggie. It doesn’t have to be that way. I can help.”

“Help how?”

“Any way you need.”

She hadn’t expected him to be so calm, not reacting to any of her barbs, deliberate or otherwise. She blinked back tears. “I never should have had wine with my sisters. I’m sorry if I…” If I what? She didn’t even know. “Never mind. Why are you back here, Brandon?”

“My father needed the help.”

“You’re giving up on your dream of wandering the world?”

His eyes held hers. “I haven’t given up on anything.”

“What about Boston? You never wanted to live in a small town.”

“If I hadn’t gotten laid off, I’d have kept working in Boston.” He spoke simply, without any obvious emotion. “I do what I have to do. I always have.”

“While wishing you were somewhere else.”

“Not always,” he said softly.

“Why are you living in a tent? I suppose it helps to have a temporary place, so you can pretend you’re not really back in Knights Bridge.”

“So I can save money.”

“For a trip,” she said. “Not for ice skates.”

He said nothing.

Maggie regretted her sharp words. “I’m sorry. I know you’d do anything for the boys. It’s me…” She stopped herself, cleared her throat. “You won’t be living in a tent once the snow flies. It’s fine for now but…” She left it at that. He knew what she was saying. What she was asking. Would he be staying in Knights Bridge?

“Don’t worry about me, Maggie.”

“I’m not worried about you. I’m trying to figure out what’s next for you. For us.” She waved a hand. “Never mind. Let’s talk about something else.”

“All right. If that’s what you want.” He glanced back at her house with its “gingerbread” Gothic Revival details. “The place is looking good. Going to paint it shades of pink? It’s what you used to say when we walked past this place as kids. That you’d paint it shades of pink if you lived there.”

“I’m actually thinking about a neutral color. Did the boys tell you they want to build a tree house out back? I can help but I’m not that great with hammers and nails. Mom’s better but she’s got her hands full.”

“Their dad’s a carpenter,” Brandon said quietly. “I can help my sons build a tree house, Maggie.”

“They’d like that. They look up to you. I…” Maggie sighed, her shoulders sagging as all the fight went out of her. “When did it become so awkward between us? We used to be able to talk about anything. Not that you were ever a big talker but I never felt I couldn’t speak my mind, that you couldn’t speak yours. We were best friends.”

He touched her cheek, her hair. “You’re tired. You’re taking on a lot.”

“I love what I’m doing. I love being back here. I wasn’t sure I would but everything’s turning out better than I anticipated. Don’t worry, I still have my dreams.”

“A gingerbread house in Knights Bridge village.”

“Life could be worse, you know.”

He smiled. “You could be living in a tent.”

“I remember some good nights with you in tents.”

He winked. “Damn straight.”

After he left and the boys were in bed, Maggie sat at her kitchen table with a stack of cookbooks. The kitchen was in good shape, with a relatively new gas stove and a decent refrigerator, but it still needed work. Buying the house hadn’t felt as impulsive as it probably was. She’d been drawn to it since childhood, and she’d thought it’d be a great place for the boys. But it really was a fixer-upper, and here she was, the estranged wife of a carpenter who was related to all the other carpenters in town.

She pictured laughing with Brandon as they painted the kitchen together, but it wasn’t going to happen. She was on her own. He would always be the father of their two young sons, but that was it.

“It can’t be. It just can’t be.” Before she could burst into tears, she called Olivia as a distraction, as well as to check in on her friend. “Am I catching you at a bad time?”

“I’m not sure there is a bad time in San Diego. It’s a stunningly beautiful day out here.” Olivia sighed, obviously content. “What’re you up to?”

From the tone of her friend’s voice, Maggie suspected Olivia knew that things were a bit complicated back home. “I think we should try making our own essential oils for our soaps. They’re so expensive to buy. You have some great herbs at your place. We’d have to dry them, and we’d need to buy equipment for distilling…” She realized she was ready to burst into tears. “What do you think?”

“It’s something I’ve been considering for a while,” Olivia said. “Will you have time?”

“I’ll make the time. Except for harvesting the herbs, we have flexibility. We can save up everything and make the soap during our down times. It should be quiet after foliage season, before the holidays. It’ll be fun.”

“Maggie? You sound upset. What’s going on?”

Maggie immediately felt guilty for making the call when she was in such a down mood. “Nothing I can’t figure out. Tell me about California.”

“If you tell me about Phoebe and Noah.”

“Wait, what do you know about Phoebe and Noah?”

“Not much except that something is going on between them. Phoebe’s being tight-lipped, probably because Noah and Dylan are such close friends.”

“Maybe she’s afraid of mucking things up between you two.”

“Not possible to muck things up between Dylan and me. So, what’s going on? What am I missing?”

Maggie smiled through her tears and told her friend what she knew, which she realized wasn’t everything, and what she surmised, which probably wasn’t everything, either.

Fifteen

Coronado was as beautiful as ever, the offshore night breeze prompting Loretta to grab a sweater out of her car as she and Olivia walked down to the historic Hotel del Coronado. Dylan had told them to go on ahead of him. He’d meet them shortly.

“He’s worried about Noah,” Olivia said, hugging her own sweater to her.

Loretta shrugged. “So far, Noah’s managed just fine on his own in your little town.”

“It’s not just that.” Olivia glanced out at the water, the lights of the sprawling hotel reflecting eerily in the white caps of the incoming tide. “Dylan believes that none of this—” she waved a hand back toward Dylan’s expensive house “—would have been possible if Noah hadn’t knocked on his window when Dylan was sleeping in his car.”

“Synergy,” Loretta said. “Noah knows he’d have crashed and burned without Dylan’s help.”

“And now what? What’s next for both of them?” Olivia took a deep breath. “I don’t want Dylan to move to Knights Bridge just for my sake. It’s too much to ask, and I wouldn’t. It’s not that Knights Bridge doesn’t measure up to San Diego. It does, at least for me. It’s home. But this is home for him.”

“You can do both, you know. Knights Bridge and San Diego.” Loretta shivered in the gusty breeze, but she welcomed it at the same time, let it clear her head, keep back her own emotions. “It’s not like you two will be scrimping to pay for groceries.”

Olivia smiled. “You’re blunt, aren’t you?”

“You can’t help either of those two if you’re not. When Dylan was playing hockey, he could read the ice, read a defense, without thinking. He just knew. Same with NAK and his role there. Noah’s smart, but he doesn’t always pick up on what’s going on around him. Karate and fencing help him tune in, I think.”

“He gives people the benefit of the doubt until they give him reason not to.”

“It’s not a bad way to be. Dylan’s not cynical but let’s just say he gives people a shorter rope than Noah does.” Loretta walked a few more steps as the tide came in on the wide sandy beach below them. “Tell me about Phoebe O’Dunn.”

“What about Phoebe?”

As if Olivia didn’t know what Loretta was asking. Loretta had already gathered that not much went on in Knights Bridge that Olivia and her family and friends didn’t know about. That Grace Webster had managed to keep her affair with a British flyer and the birth of their son a secret for seventy years was a damn miracle as far as Loretta was concerned. Dylan said she’d understand when she met Grace. The assumption being that Loretta eventually would get to Knights Bridge.

Maybe she would. She wondered if she’d understand the late Duncan McCaffrey any better when she did.

Probably not.

She turned her attention back to the matter at hand. “Phoebe was Noah’s princess the other night. She overheard Julius Hartley talking on the phone to someone—probably someone out here.”

Olivia seemed more amused than surprised. “You do know everything, don’t you?”

Loretta laughed. “Not by half. Not when it comes to Noah and Dylan. So what about your friend Phoebe?”

“We’ve been friends forever. My younger sister and I grew up with Phoebe and her sisters.” Olivia glanced out at the Pacific, as if picturing her hometown in her mind. “Jess and I grew up at an old sawmill and the O’Dunns grew up on a small farm. It was a great childhood.”

Loretta prodded her. “And?”

“Phoebe’s the eldest. She’s always felt responsible for the rest of us—her sisters, and even Jess and me.” Olivia hesitated, lowering her arms, letting her sweater flap in the breeze. She seemed to welcome the cooler air. “Phoebe found her father after he died in a fall out of a tree he was trimming. His death was hard on all of them.”

“Phoebe tried to fix things?”

“I think she just tried to be there for everyone. Her mother was always a live-for-the-moment type but she became even more so after Patrick’s death.”

Loretta imagined a woman facing early widowhood with four daughters and a farm. “She can be impractical?”

“That’s one way of putting it. Phoebe commuted to college from home, so she’s never lived anywhere but Knights Bridge. She loves her job at the library. She’s good at it. She’s smart and sophisticated, Loretta. Don’t think just because she’s from a small town that she’s not.”

“Whoa. Phoebe’s not the only one who’s protective.”

Olivia sighed as they crossed a driveway to the hotel, its distinctive red turrets and white exterior glowing in the night lights. “Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s good to have friends who worry about you.” Loretta grinned, lightening the mood. “I wish I had a few.”

“You’re like Phoebe. You do the worrying.”

“Am I guessing right that something’s going on between her and Noah?”

Olivia tightened her sweater around her again. “I think so.” She slowed her pace as they continued along a curving walk to the hotel. “Will Noah hurt her, Loretta?”

“Noah’s more likely to get hurt himself than to hurt someone else.”

“He dates Hollywood types—”

“Who are more interested in his money and his connections than in him.”

“He’s a very wealthy man, and he can’t have taken his company to where it is without being driven, maybe even a little ruthless. Phoebe’s a gentle soul, unless she thinks one of us is in trouble.”

“Does she think one of you is in trouble now?” Loretta asked.

Olivia shrugged. “I don’t think so. I don’t know. I’m not there.”

“She can be tough, too, from the sounds of it. She kept her cool when she overheard Hartley in the coatroom. And didn’t she show up at that masquerade on her own?”