The Spring at Moss Hill (18 page)

“I should get back,” he said, nodding toward the meeting room. “Ruby and Maggie are stopping by soon to discuss refreshments for Saturday. Ava promised not to second-guess them. I'm not betting on that one.”

Kylie laughed, feeling calmer and more centered as she headed up to her apartment.

There.

She'd told Mark, the main target of the unpleasant rumors. She didn't need to call Russ. She was off the hook—Mark could take it from here. Travis's mention of Morwenna was personal, and she didn't regard it as a veiled threat—more like his way of telling her he was in the know.

She eyed her cluttered worktable, a sign of a productive two days. She'd worked on paper and on computer, her version of
Little Red Riding Hood
taking shape not just in her mind and bits and pieces but as a whole story, a visual narrative.

Sherlock Badger watched her from his perch on her lamp. “I see you didn't clean up the place while I was out,” she said, gathering scattered pencils and crayons.

But she didn't have the attention span for cleaning up, either.

She tossed the pencils and crayons in their appropriate bins, shut down her computer and went into the bathroom. She turned on the water in the tub. It was early for a bath, but she didn't care. New and architect-designed, the bathroom was energy-efficient, water-efficient and luxurious, with a separate tub and shower. Kylie had bought fluffy, oversize white towels and a spa robe, hung on a hook on the back of the door.

No one was around, but she closed the door, anyway.

She added a healthy scoop of the Farm at Carriage Hill lavender-scented goat's milk bath salts to the steaming water. The Swift River Country Store offered a limited quantity of Carriage Hill spa products, and she'd bought soap and bath gel on one of her trips to town.

A bath and cheese, fruit and vegetables for dinner...and champagne on the balcony, since she'd slipped a new bottle into her basket on her quick trip to town yesterday.

A perfect way to spend the rest of the day.

Except she couldn't drink an entire bottle of champagne herself, and she didn't feel like drinking—celebrating—alone.

“You could invite Travis to join you, since he knows about Morwenna and you won't have to clean.”

Kylie groaned at her lame attempt at humor. She'd never had Travis to her rented house. They'd spent one day together.
Part
of one day. They'd never had a relationship. She'd been procrastinating, struggling with a concept, and he'd seemed like a nice enough guy—going out with him would be refreshing, fun.

That hadn't worked out, had it?

As she peeled off her biking clothes, she had a mad urge to book a flight somewhere. She could have champagne and take a luxurious bath in Paris or London or Amsterdam—or Hawaii. She'd never been to Hawaii.

She thought of Russ's palm-tree shirt and smiled.

She eased into the hot water, smelling the lavender, feeling the softness of the goat's milk against her skin. The muscles in her neck and shoulders ached from her work marathon. She shut her eyes, wondering what it would be like to take a bath with Russ...

We'd have to skip the lavender.

She laughed, hoping he didn't have telepathic skills and wasn't reading her mind right now. She would relax, have her bath, eat dinner, skip the champagne and go to bed early. She wanted to be up for tomorrow's sunrise. Daphne Stewart would give her master class and go back to Southern California—along with Russ Colton. After that, Kylie would tell people she worked under another name.

Then
she would go on a trip.

Not Paris, she thought. Not this trip.

Paris would only remind her of her bad luck with men.

* * *

After walking up to the spring to catch the sunrise, Kylie, feeling restless, took herself to breakfast in town. Smith's was crowded with Sloans, a diplomat now retired to Knights Bridge, the ER doctor engaged to Clare Morgan and several residents of Rivendell, the local assisted-living facility, who were indulging a “hankering” for blueberry pancakes.

Kylie sat at the counter. It wasn't as isolated as her usual corner booth. She ordered blue-cornmeal pancakes, sausage patties, coffee and fresh-squeezed orange juice. It was rare for her to have breakfast out, but she loved it.

As she drank her coffee, she overheard the Sloans mention Dylan McCaffrey and realized word was out that he and Olivia were expecting a baby. Olivia's parents, Louise and Randy Frost, were en route to Holland and, according to Chris Sloan, had promised to celebrate on a canal trip in Amsterdam. Eric Sloan indicated he liked that idea.

When Chris finished his breakfast and headed out, he stopped to say hi to Kylie. That he didn't mention Travis Bowman either meant Mark hadn't told him about his presence in town or Chris didn't consider it a problem, either.

It was also possible Mark hadn't mentioned her name when he'd told Chris.

Or Chris didn't want to trouble her about Travis while she was eating pancakes.

Mind reading wasn't going to get her anywhere, she decided. Travis's past and any problems he had with the Sloans and Mark Flanagan were no longer her concern.

Clare Morgan and Logan Farrell said a quick hello as they headed out.

Eight-thirty in the morning and Smith's breakfast crowd was already thinning, just the seniors lingering over coffee and a discussion of various goings-on in town. Kylie wouldn't be surprised if a few of them showed up at Daphne's class.

She was mopping up a pool of pure maple syrup with the last of her pancakes when Russ Colton arrived with a petite, copper-haired woman who had to be Daphne Stewart. “This was an actual house when I lived in town,” she said, taking off a lightweight leather jacket. “I didn't get here in September. Oh, my. Brings back memories.” She pointed a red-tipped finger. “We'll take that booth there.”

While she got settled, Russ eased between Kylie and the stool next to her. “I thought that was your bike outside,” he said.

“The mud's a dead giveaway.” She noticed he wore a canvas jacket over a denim shirt, dark cargo pants and trail shoes. He'd taken off sunglasses when he'd entered the restaurant. She smiled, acknowledging a slight weakness in her legs that she couldn't fairly attribute to her hike and bike ride. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks.”

“How was your flight?”

“Long. Daphne requested breakfast here. I'll get her settled at Carriage Hill.”

“She'll love Carriage Hill,” Kylie said.

But Russ made no comment, his eyes serious as he narrowed them on her. “Then I'll stop by Moss Hill and you can tell me about Travis Bowman.”

“How—”

“To quote Ruby O'Dunn, Knights Bridge is a small town. People talk.”

He joined Daphne in her booth.

Kylie paid for her breakfast and got out of there, glad she had ridden her bike to town. Not only did she have pancakes to burn off, she had her reaction to Russ Colton to get under control.

Nineteen

“I
'm impressed you didn't bring the steamer trunk,” Russ said as he set Daphne's bags—one she'd checked and a small one she'd carried on board—on the throw rug on the wide-plank floor of her bedroom at Carriage Hill. He'd offered to carry them. She hadn't asked. He didn't know if she hadn't thought to or he'd jumped the gun. Either way, he had to establish boundaries with her. Bad enough she regarded him as something of a bodyguard as well as an investigator, but he wasn't her damn manservant. He didn't mind carrying her bags, but he wasn't as loose with the parameters of his job as Julius obviously was, at least with her.

She'd gone into the room ahead of him. “You need to free yourself of your preconceived notions about me,” she said, peeking out a window overlooking the Quabbin side of the yard.

“How hard was it to get everything in these two bags?”

“Almost impossible. I had to leave my sequin Oscars gown at home. I packed some horrible little roll-up jumpsuit thing that promises not to wrinkle. I can't see myself ironing, but I can't see anyone else here ironing, either.” She turned to him, her green eyes bright and alert despite the overnight flight. “You wouldn't consider—”

“No, Daphne. I'm not ironing for you.”

She gave him an impish grin. “It would be sexy as hell, you with an iron and an ironing board.”

“This is why you have three ex-husbands.”

“What, you don't believe men should iron?”

“No, I think men ironing is fine, perfectly normal. I just don't think they're sexy when they do it.”

“It depends—”

He stopped her right there. “Daphne.”

“It's so much fun to tease you, even more so than Julius and Marty. They're both more sociable than you are. Marty, in particular, is a people person. His job requires a certain conviviality where yours doesn't. You can get away with that clamped-jaw, no-sense-of-humor demeanor you've had since you arrived back in Los Angeles on Wednesday. Some of your clients probably like it. Julius has a softer way about him.”

“I've done a lot of flying this week.”

“Is that a change of subject or an explanation?”

“Take it as you will. What time do you want to see Moss Hill?”

“Give me a couple of hours. I want to take a nap and freshen up. The red-eye has lost its charm, if it ever had any.” She glanced around the attractive corner room, decorated with hand-painted furniture and colorful bed linens. A second window overlooked the front yard. “The memories I have, Russ. Grace Webster, the Sloans, the O'Dunns, the Frosts. I'm holding my breath until I get through this weekend. Maggie and Olivia are as lovely as ever. They make their own goat's milk soaps for the bath amenities, you know.”

“I do know. There are some in my apartment.”

“Nothing too girly-smelling, I hope.”

“You're on a roll, Daphne,” Russ said. “See you in a couple of hours. Call or text if you need me before then.”

She yawned, covering her mouth with one hand. “I'll be lucky if I'm awake in two hours, but I'm looking forward to seeing Moss Hill.” She winked at him. “How's that for the power of positive self-talk?”

“Keep it up.”

She rolled her eyes as he left her to her nap and unpacking and went downstairs. No one was in the kitchen, but he could hear Olivia and Maggie in the backyard. They'd invited Daphne to join them, but she'd opted for getting settled. Buster was sprawled across the threshold of the mudroom. Anyone trying to get out of or into the kitchen through the mudroom would have to step over him. The ruler of the roost, Russ thought with a smile. The big dog didn't stir, either because he accepted Russ or was dead to the world.

He returned to Moss Hill and parked by the bike rack, Kylie's muddy, unlocked bike in its usual spot. He took his own bag up to his borrowed apartment. He had no interest in a nap, but he hadn't slept much on his flight. He could sleep anytime, anywhere—except on planes.

Kylie didn't respond to his knock on her door.

Avoiding him?

But when he went back downstairs, he noticed her bike was gone from the rack. She must have slipped out while he was in his apartment, dropping off his bag. She'd have seen his rental car but might not have realized it was his.

Or she could be avoiding him.

He walked up the road toward the covered bridge and the house Kylie had rented until her move to Moss Hill. She'd already been to town. It made sense she'd take off in this direction.

He found her on the old, single-lane wooden bridge. “It'd be easy to lose track of time standing here watching the river,” he said, easing in next to her. She had her hair pulled back in a tangled ponytail, her bike tucked next to her as she stared down at the water. “The sound is soothing, isn't it?”

“Especially after a long flight, I imagine.”

“How've you been, Kylie?”

“Good, thanks. Working and enjoying spring. And you?”

“Working and flying.” He placed his arms on the bridge rail and looked down at the river, Kylie next to him. “I'd like you to tell me about Travis Bowman.”

“I understand.” She looked out across the river to a green field rolling out from the bank. “I met Travis when he worked on Moss Hill last summer. I hadn't seen him since then.”

Russ listened without interruption as she related her encounter with this guy yesterday. She was clear, concise and calm. From her point of view, she'd run into a harmless carpenter who hadn't liked his job or Knights Bridge and had been in a bad place in his life and had moved on, relocating to Syracuse to be closer to his small children.

“Did he threaten you?” Russ asked when she finished.

She shook her head. “I didn't take what he said as a threat. I think he just wanted me to know he'd figured out about Morwenna.”

“To be the big man or to get something out of you?”

“Blackmail me, you mean? No, nothing like that. There's no way I would pay or do a favor for him or anyone else to keep Morwenna secret.”

“You didn't tell Mark that this guy brought up Morwenna.”

“No, I didn't.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Russ said quietly.

“I haven't told anyone that I work under a different name because it was convenient for me, not because it's something I want or need to hide. Travis must know that. He doesn't have any leverage.” She paused, tracing a fingertip on a rough knot in the wooden rail. “It's hard for me to believe figuring out I'm the author and illustrator behind a series of children's books would make anyone feel important. I'm proud of what I do, and I appreciate that my badgers are popular...” She shrugged. “I don't know what was on Travis's mind.”

Russ stood straight. “You two...”

“We went to a Red Sox game together. I left early and made my own way home. He was negative but not what I'd call angry or bitter—just unhappy.”

“Let me know if you see or hear from him again.”

“I will.”

He turned around, leaning his back against the rail. “Feels good to be outside.”

“It sure does. I love spring. I was looking to see if there are any ducklings yet. Ducks often congregate near here.” Kylie stood on her toes, leaning over the rail as if she was trying to see under the bridge. She settled back on her heels. “A bike ride and now a walk—I'm not going to get much done today.”

A breeze caught her hair. Russ noticed pale blond strands against the dark maroon of her jacket. She brushed hair off her cheek, squinting at him. He itched to touch her but didn't. Not here, not now. “You've been putting in the hours since I left.”

“
Little Red Riding Hood
came together. It took me by surprise. I never know what will crystalize my thinking, but once I had the setting, I was off and running. Lots yet to do, but it's helpful to take a break. Plus it would be hard to work today.”

“Which is harder to draw, animals or people?”

“I don't think in terms of hard or easy when I'm in the middle of a project—I just focus on the work at hand. But standing back from it...” She considered a moment. “I still can't say. Figuring out new characters can be demanding whether they're animals or human, but it's fun, too. Characters I know well also have their challenges.”

“Do you work one way as Kylie Shaw and another way as Morwenna Mills?”

“I've never thought of it like that. No, I don't think so.”

“Are you more Kylie or Morwenna?”

“There's no daylight between the two of us. The only difference is that most people don't know I'm Morwenna.”

“I still haven't told anyone.”

“I've no doubt.” She smiled unexpectedly. “You're a steely-eyed private investigator.”

Russ laughed. “Tell Daphne.”

“I look forward to meeting her.”

He realized a car hadn't crossed the bridge since he'd arrived. He felt his long night in his scratchy eyes, his tight muscles. Best thing, he knew, was to keep going until he fell into bed tonight. “Are you annoyed I was suspicious you were hiding something and dug in, found out about Morwenna?”

“It's not like you discovered I'm in witness protection or a bank robber on the lam.”

He smiled. “Imagine Sherlock Badger's reaction.”

“He'd have turned me in if I were a bank robber. You're perceptive, Russ, and having an investigator on the premises got me worked up—it's no wonder you were suspicious. I didn't have a grand strategy for dealing with Morwenna. It just seemed easier not to say anything.”

“You were working hard and just didn't tell anyone.”

She dipped both hands into her jacket pockets and produced fistfuls of what he saw were small stones. She lined them up on the bridge rail and picked one, cupping it in her palm. “Pretty much. Next thing, it's this big secret, and then you show up, the California PI staying across the hall.”

“Things moved fast after that,” Russ said.

She licked her lips. “You could say that.” She spun and tossed her stone into the river. It hit a large, flat boulder and bounced into the water, creating a small splash. “But you don't need to worry about my little secret. I'm holding off telling anyone until after you and Daphne are back in California.”

“Are you tempted to run—move out of Moss Hill and go somewhere else? The anonymity of a big city must be tempting right now.”

“I enjoyed city life, but I love it here. Sometimes you can't run.” She handed him two of her stones. “I can see you're dying to throw stones in the river. It's addictive.”

“Do you aim or just wing it, see where it lands?”

“Depends on my mood. I didn't aim just now.”

He flung a golf ball–size stone into the river. It dropped into a pool of water among the boulders directly beneath the bridge. He aimed the second stone, targeting a craggy granite boulder near the riverbank. It went wide, splashing into reeds.

“Missed,” Kylie said next to him.

He laughed. “By yards.”

“Out of practice.”

“I can't say I've ever thrown stones into a river.”

“But am I right, it's addictive?”

“It could be if I had a covered bridge and a river, and someone to collect stones.”

“I always keep my eye out for good stones.”

He looked at her, saw the color in her cheeks—wind, sun, emotion. He couldn't say for sure what she was thinking, feeling.

She cleared her throat, grabbing another stone and flinging it into the river. “Do you have plans for the evening?” she asked him.

“I'm picking up Daphne and taking her to Moss Hill to check out where she'll be teaching tomorrow, but she wants to have a quiet night. She's going to ground until her class. I'll come back to my apartment.” Russ flicked a tiny stone into the river, but lost it and didn't see where it landed.

Kylie pointed. “There, by the driftwood.”

But it was too late, any ripples dissipated by the time he saw the driftwood, which looked to be a tree branch of some kind. “You and I can have dinner at Smith's, or we can cook. I like the idea of cooking, don't you? My place this time.”

“I'll bring wine,” she said, taking the last and biggest of the stones, rearing back and throwing it hard. It landed on the opposite bank. She clapped her hands. “Did it!”

Russ could have hugged her, kissed her—made love to her right there on the covered bridge, but a car made its way onto the narrow span. Kylie grabbed her helmet, snapped it on and jumped on her bike, promising to see him soon as she started back toward Moss Hill.

He watched her, getting himself under control. “Kylie, Kylie.” He exhaled, wishing he had more stones to toss into the river. Big ones.

* * *

Daphne would know all about secret identities, Russ thought as she huddled with Ruby and Ava O'Dunn in the Moss Hill meeting room. Ava, also red-haired and turquoise-eyed, was quieter and calmer than her fraternal twin, but she wasn't involved with a Sloan and local firefighter. That had to help. The three women seemed to hit it off, confirmed when Ruby and Ava volunteered to drive Daphne back to Carriage Hill and she accepted.

“You're tired, darling Russ,” Daphne said, kissing him on the cheek. “You should have let me upgrade you to first class.”

Ava and Ruby bit back smiles as they showed Daphne out to their car.

Russ was more than happy to go up to his apartment, unpack and take a shower. Daphne was artistic, visual and dedicated to her work. She and Kylie had common interests and talents, but Daphne relished playing the diva. He couldn't see Kylie breezing into Moss Hill the way Daphne had, squealing in delight, kissing Ava and Ruby on the cheek, all in with her role as the local girl who was now a Hollywood icon.

It was all another world from the one Russ knew.