Cider Brook

“Spying on him? To what end?”

“To get information she could use for herself.”

“Do an end run around him you mean? Get to some lost treasure before he did?”

“Possibly. Or just ruin his reputation.”

“Why would she want to do that?”

“I’m not saying she did.” Loretta stood by the open patio door and let the breeze hit her. She was hot. It was all this emotion. She turned back to Julius. “I’m saying Duncan couldn’t take that risk once he knew she hadn’t told him the truth about herself.”

Julius stretched out his legs and leaned back against the comfortable couch. He didn’t look emotional at all. “People lie all the time. Doesn’t always mean they’re up to anything underhanded.”

“Knights Bridge was too important to Duncan. I didn’t understand why at the time, but it wasn’t a part of his work as a treasure hunter. That Samantha inserted herself there and then lied about it was too much for him to ignore.”

Julius nodded. “I get that, too.”

“Then what don’t you get?”

“Why you’re pacing. Dylan’s a big boy. He can handle this woman if she’s up to something in Sleepy Hollow.”

Loretta plopped onto a chair across from him. She worked at her house—she had an office in a front room, with views of the street. She liked to see who was pulling into her driveway, and it allowed her to keep her living area separate. This room was home, where she relaxed and enjoyed looking out at her pool and the Pacific. Both were glistening now, with roses and bougainvillea along the pool fence adding splashes of bright red. She’d moved here before she’d known anything about ice hockey—before she’d met a driven young hockey player named Dylan McCaffrey. She’d worked with him throughout his years with the National Hockey League and then when he’d joined forces with Noah Kendrick and his high-tech entertainment company, NAK, Inc.

Dylan hadn’t heeded all her advice, but he’d done fine for himself. He was like a son to her. Noah was, too.

And now both of them had fallen in love with women from little Knights Bridge.

Loretta leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped. She had to calm down. “There’s more. Samantha painted herself as a quiet researcher. Duncan hired her and took her under his wing.”

“I gather she isn’t a quiet researcher,” Julius said.

“She’s Harry Bennett’s granddaughter.”

Julius was silent a moment. “Ah. She’s not just any Bennett.”

“Her father is underwater explorer and salvage expert Malcolm Bennett. Her mother is Francesca Bennett, a prominent marine archaeologist, and her uncle is Caleb Bennett, a maritime historian and adventurer.”

“Didn’t Harry die in Antarctica?”

Loretta shook her head. “He survived a tough expedition fifty years ago and died three years ago at home in his bed at the ripe old age of ninety-six.”

“Duncan didn’t make the connection between his Bennett and the Bennetts?”

“He did not.”

“You’d think having a Bennett on his team would be an asset.”

“Maybe it would have been, but Samantha didn’t tell him—and he didn’t ask.”

“He didn’t check her out before he hired her? Why not?”

“He said he was distracted by his reasons for being in Knights Bridge—his search for his birth parents—but I think it had more to do with his nature. He didn’t like getting bogged down in details. He preferred to trust his instincts.”

“Did he have good instincts about people?” Julius asked.

“Sometimes. I don’t know.” Loretta sprang to her feet. “It’s a mess.”

Julius eyed her from the couch. “If Samantha slipped into Knights Bridge before she met Duncan, how did she know he was there?”

“She’s part of the treasure-hunting community.” Loretta realized she had resumed pacing in front of the patio doors. “Apparently word got out that he’d been to Knights Bridge. Everyone assumed it was for personal reasons, which it was.”

“So this Samantha heard he was there and tried to see him, missed him, and came out to L.A. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that she didn’t tell him. Duncan didn’t fire her because she’s a Bennett or because she sneaked into Knights Bridge. He fired her because she didn’t tell him the truth about herself. Trust is vital in the treasure-hunting world, given the stakes, the controversies.”

“It’s vital in any relationship,” Julius said.

Loretta frowned at him. “Yes. Right. I’m just pointing out its value in Duncan’s world.”

“He was worried this Bennett woman was a spy for her father or grandfather—”

“Her grandfather was already dead when she and Duncan met. He died the previous fall.”

“My point stands. Was she good at what she did for him?”

“Very good, apparently. She was in Portugal with him and his team right before he died. She was involved in planning that trip.”

“Not his fall, I hope.”

Loretta gave him a cool look. “Duncan had a heart attack. The heart attack caused his fall.”

Julius shrugged. “Don’t tell me it didn’t occur to you there was a connection.”

“You and I obviously live in different worlds, Julius, because you’re wrong, it didn’t occur to me. I knew this wouldn’t move your needle given the scandals and skulduggery you’ve unearthed up in Hollywood.”

“But this Samantha is sneaking around your Dylan, and that concerns you and therefore it definitely moves my needle.” He walked over to the patio doors and looked out at the pool, a classic kidney shape, its water sparkling under the blue sky. “How did Duncan find out what was up with Samantha? Did you investigate her for him?”

“Investigate isn’t the word I would use,” Loretta said, easing next to him. “I looked into her background once Duncan became aware she’d been to Knights Bridge. That by itself set off alarms. It wasn’t hard once I got started. She hadn’t lied so much as omitted things.”

“Why do you think she’s in Knights Bridge now?”

“Because Dylan’s there. Other than that, I don’t know.”

“Is she looking for treasure?”

“In Knights Bridge?”

Julius grimaced. “Right. What was I thinking? Goats, herbs, country roads, antique houses and hardheaded people. Although Duncan was after stolen British jewels. Think Samantha got wind of them?”

“I told you, I don’t know what she was up to then or now. I just know that she didn’t tell the truth, and Duncan fired her.”

“Did he give her a chance to explain?”

“Explain what? No. There was no point. He said he wanted her to go on her way.”

Julius looked at her. “Did you two discuss his work?”

His scrutiny made her feel self-conscious. It wasn’t like her. She shook off her discomfort and said, matter-of-fact, “I didn’t know Duncan that well. I’ve known Dylan for years, but I didn’t meet his father until a few months before his death.”

“Ah,” Julius said, knowing. “Regrets?”

“I don’t have a lot of serious regrets, but I’m in my fifties, Julius. You are, too.” She avoided his eye and watched the pool water ripple in a breeze. “If we don’t have regrets at our age, we haven’t been living.”

He slung an arm over her shoulders. “Does Dylan know about you and his father?”

She swallowed. “Yes, but we don’t discuss it.”

“Does that mean you’re not discussing it with me?”

“Tenfold.”

“Dylan had never heard the name Samantha Bennett until she showed up in Knights Bridge this afternoon?”

“That’s right. His father never told him about her. Neither did I. Why would I?”

Loretta didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she quickly relayed what Dylan had told her about the fire at an old cider mill up the road from Carriage Hill.

Julius grinned. “A cider mill? You’re kidding, right?”

“People could have been killed, Julius.”

“Yeah, but...” He shook his head. “All right, all right. I’m glad no one was hurt.”

“I haven’t told Dylan what I know about Samantha, but I will. Whatever she’s doing in Knights Bridge, he can handle her without my help.”

“You want to believe that, but you don’t.” Julius drew her close and kissed her on the top of her head. She was almost as tall as he was. “Let’s grab something to eat. You’re a desk lawyer, Loretta. You know contracts and money. You don’t have a sixth sense about people.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “And you do?”

“Damn straight. Come on. We can walk. It’ll be good for us.”

She grabbed a lightweight jacket, and they headed out. It was cool, but it would be cooler in Knights Bridge. She’d found she liked to check the weather there. She supposed it helped her feel as if she was still a part of Dylan’s life. The emotions of this new chapter in his life had hit her hard—harder than they would have, no doubt, if she hadn’t slept with his father during his last days. Duncan had died before their relationship had had a chance to move beyond a mad night of sex to wherever it could have gone.

Now, two years later, here she was holding hands with Julius Hartley. Was he a new chapter in her life, or was he a passing fling? A distraction?

“How can you walk in those shoes?” he asked her, interrupting her thoughts.

She glanced down at her strappy sandals. “They’re fine. What’s wrong with them?”

“The heels. Don’t they kill you?”

“I’m used to them. I like them. I think they make my legs look sexier, don’t you?”

“Sexier than what?”

She sighed. “Than without heels.”

“That’s one of those ‘do these jeans make me look fat’ questions women should never ask men, and men should never answer if they do.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Julius—”

“Your legs always look sexy.” He winked at her. “How’s that?”

“You sound like a prepared witness.”

“But you’re laughing.”

She tugged him closer to her. “Yes, I’m laughing.”

They walked a few blocks to her favorite seafood restaurant. It was early for dinner, but she’d worked through lunch, after a late rising thanks to Julius turning up last night. He said he’d had business in San Diego. She hoped she wasn’t out of her mind getting involved with him. She wasn’t worried about getting hurt. If he decided she was nuts and moved on, she would manage. She just didn’t want to hurt him.

They sat at a cozy round table overlooking the water below them. She gazed down at the waves. She loved this place. She’d grown up here and had moved back after she’d graduated from law school. She had no desire to live anywhere else. Zip, zero. As far as she was concerned, the hillside, seaside community of La Jolla, California, was paradise, never mind the high cost of living.

But she found herself picturing Dylan on the sunlit stone terrace at The Farm at Carriage Hill, with the flower and herb gardens, the shade trees, the open fields and the old stone walls.

The leaves were turning in New England, he’d told her. She should come back out there and see them.

She pushed back the image and focused on the handsome man across the small table from her. “Why do you think Samantha Bennett is in Knights Bridge?”

Julius didn’t hesitate. “To redeem herself.”

* * *

Julius left after they got back from dinner. He headed back up to his house in Beverly Hills or Hollywood Hills or wherever it was. Loretta hadn’t been there yet. It was his world. His daughters were there. His ex-wife. His clients and the law firm he worked for. She envisioned him with a Sam Spade sort of office but supposed that was nonsense.

She hated to see him go but at the same time was relieved.

She’d never married—she’d never wanted to marry—and she’d had damn few long-term relationships in her life. It hadn’t been a plan, it had just worked out that way. She wasn’t promiscuous. She’d had long dry spells between men.

“Like a decade,” she muttered as she went out to her pool. It was heated. She hated cold water.

She kicked off her sandals and dipped a toe into the water. She’d gone skinny-dipping with Duncan their one night together. Talk about madness. She in her fifties, he in his early seventies. They’d had a blast, laughing, enjoying life. She didn’t know why she’d fallen for him, but she had no regrets, not about that. She’d been his last love. They hadn’t fought, or really had a chance to get to know each other.

She hadn’t told his son because—well, because her relationship with his father was none of Dylan’s business. That was just a fact. It wasn’t good or bad. What she and Duncan had shared was about them. It wasn’t about Dylan.

With no indication that Duncan was in anything but excellent health, it had been a terrible shock when she’d gotten word of his death.

What a two years it had been since that dark day.

Loretta didn’t dare trust what she had with Julius. It wasn’t just lust, and that scared the hell out of her. Did she want to get serious with a man at this point in her life?

What if Julius freaking dropped dead, too?

She blinked back tears. How had her tidy life become so complicated?

“Damned if I know what I want.”

She splashed the water with her foot and almost fell into the stupid pool. Wouldn’t that serve her right? An independent, successful professional falling ass-over-teakettle into the pool over a man.

She was more raw than she’d realized after Duncan’s death and now Dylan’s engagement to a woman in this little New England town. She hated not knowing what to do about Julius. About her feelings for him. That wasn’t like her. She always knew what to do.

Duncan had known he had no choice, but he’d still disliked firing Samantha Bennett, then wondered if he’d done the right thing. “In my work, Loretta, I can’t take chances on someone who deliberately lied to me—whatever her reasons. But I’m not a heartless SOB, either.”

“She’ll be fine, but it’ll help that she only worked for you a short time,” Loretta had told him. She remembered how much she’d enjoyed their long calls and occasional video chats. They’d shared an intense intimacy that she’d never expected would last—but she hadn’t expected he’d die, either. “Did you ask her why she looked you up in Knights Bridge?”

“Not specifically, no. Maybe she would tell me, but it doesn’t matter. She needs to get on with her life, and I have work to do.”

Loretta sank onto a lounge chair, letting her feet dry in the fading sun. She had a damn good life here. She couldn’t relate to Dylan’s life in Knights Bridge. Maybe if she had some reason to be there—like he did.

She’d felt all crazily warm and fuzzy and maternal when he’d called to ask her what she knew about Samantha Bennett.

She groaned. “I’ve gone off the edge.”

Her phone vibrated on the table next to her lounge chair. She grabbed it and saw Julius had texted her. You’re angsting, aren’t you?

The man did have a sixth sense about people. She typed her answer. Obsessing. There’s a difference. Where are you?

Almost home. Stopped for gas.

She debated asking him to turn around and come back to La Jolla, but there was nothing to keep her at home except work that could wait. He’d been asking her to come up there. If he understood she wasn’t ready to meet his family...

She texted him back. Do you have wine?

I collect wine. Noah would approve.

Noah Kendrick, Dylan’s best friend and the billionaire founder of NAK, Inc., owned a winery on the central coast of California. He was there now with Phoebe O’Dunn, the Knights Bridge librarian. They would be returning to Massachusetts soon.

Loretta felt abandoned, alone—she didn’t know what the hell was wrong with her.

She responded to Julius. I’m on my way.

His answer came within seconds. I’ll be waiting with the Chardonnay.

Eight

Samantha awoke to sun streaming through her windows. She hadn’t pulled the curtains, but she’d overslept, anyway. She bolted upright, knowing it was after eight before she checked the time on the bedside clock.

Eight thirty-four.

She had planned to be on her way by now. On her way where she didn’t exactly know, but out of The Farm at Carriage Hill, away from the herbs and the big slobbery dog and the happy engaged couple.

Late last night, exhausted but unable to sleep, she’d decided she would get an early start. She didn’t need to meet Dylan over coffee and eggs. She could stick to her plan and accomplish what she’d come to Knights Bridge to do without a face-to-face with her ex-boss’s son.

With a groan, she sank against the padded headboard. She’d ended up deep under the comforter, finally and totally dead to the world after days of digging through her grandfather’s office and then her uncle and cousin’s arrival in Boston and then yesterday. The drive west, her hike, the thunderstorm, the fire, the rescue, the irritable volunteer firefighter. Then the gracious hostess, the warm applesauce, the soup, the cake. The big dog. The goat’s milk soap.

No wonder she’d had a hard time winding down and hadn’t fallen asleep until well after midnight. Hearing what she took to be Dylan McCaffrey’s voice out in the hall hadn’t helped.

Justin Sloan had to have known she would be more like a house guest at The Farm at Carriage Hill than an inn guest. She supposed he and Olivia both had tried to warn her, and she’d just been too shaken and rattled for it to sink in that her hosts lived here.

She stood up, the braided rug warm under her bare feet. Without warning, her mind flashed to the hiss and near-roar of the fire in the dark, claustrophobic cider mill.

She could feel Justin lifting her as she’d gasped for air. She could smell his shirt, his skin....

“Gad,” she said under her breath.

She’d dreamed about him, and now that she was awake she was going to keep thinking about him?

She shook her head. “I need coffee.”

Despite traipsing through the woods, her tense escape from the fire and her dreams, the stiffness and achiness she’d felt last night had eased and she wasn’t particularly sore this morning. She ducked into the pretty bathroom, her reflection in the mirror not as deadly as yesterday when she’d arrived.

She took another shower, getting any residual smoke smell off her, and quickly got dressed. She unloaded her backpack on the floor and went through every item for smoke damage. She would figure out what she needed to replace and stop at the country store in town. She wanted to go back to the cider mill this morning. It and the village were both within relatively easy walking distance of Carriage Hill.

She stared at the contents of her backpack on the floor with a feeling of dread.

She got down on her knees and went through every item again.

No journal.

She hadn’t thought about it until now. It was always with her. It must have been displaced in the mad dash from the fire.

She stood straight, her heartbeat quickening as she considered the possibilities. Had it burned up in the fire? Had it fallen out of her pack after Justin had rescued her?

Had one of the other firefighters found it? His cop brother?

Was it still in the mill? Would someone stop there this morning and find it?

She had no memory of the small cloth-bound journal beyond slipping it into her backpack yesterday morning before she left Boston. She was positive she’d had it with her when she’d shoved her pack into the backseat with Isaac.

Maybe she’d dropped it in her grandfather’s Mercedes.

She texted her uncle and asked.

He responded immediately. No journal.

Check under the seats. Please.

She paced, waiting for his next text. Not in the car. Burned?

I don’t know.

Uh-oh.

Yeah, no kidding. How’s Amherst?

The ghost of Harry Bennett haunts the ivy-covered buildings.

Only her uncle would take the time to type such a text. Samantha typed a quick response. No doubt. Good luck.

You, too, Sam.

Marginally calmer, she headed downstairs, arriving to an empty kitchen. A cool draft drew her into the mudroom and out to the stone terrace, where Olivia sat at a round wood table having coffee and toast. She smiled cheerfully. “Well, good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Great, thanks.” Samantha pushed aside her panic over her missing journal and pulled out a chair in the sun, taking a seat. “It’s a lovely day.”

“It is, isn’t it? I’m not letting a single reasonably warm, sunny morning go to waste. It’ll be snowing before we know it. Dylan played ice hockey for years, but he’s never done a real New England winter. Should be interesting.” Olivia rose, grabbing her breakfast plate but leaving her coffee mug. She wore jeans and an oversize, paint-spattered white shirt, her dark hair pulled back loosely, her casual attire a reminder that Carriage Hill was also her home. “We’re having our wedding here on Christmas Eve.”

“Do you hope it snows?”

“I hope there’s snow on the ground. I wouldn’t want a blizzard to keep people from traveling. What can I get you for breakfast? We have almost anything you can think of, including wild blueberries for pancakes.”

“I’d be happy to make my own breakfast—”

Olivia held up a hand, silencing her. “I wouldn’t dream of it. We’re still getting up to speed, but the larder is full, so to speak. So, what do you think? Cereal, muffins, toast, yogurt, fresh fruit, eggs—”

“Yogurt with fruit and toast would be fabulous. Thank you.”

“Done. I’ll bring it out to you.” Olivia grinned, heading to the mudroom door. “This is so much fun.”

When Olivia disappeared into the kitchen, Samantha breathed in the crisp air, hoping it would help settle her down. She wanted to enjoy her surroundings. If her journal was in the cider mill, she would find it before anyone else did. If it had burned up...well, then, it had burned up. If Justin or any of the other firefighters had found it, surely they would return it unread. They were professionals.

Who was she kidding? They would read at least enough to realize she was in their little town because of a long-dead pirate.

Buster rolled onto his back in front of a bench at the edge of the terrace. The yard was a mix of lawn and raised beds of herbs and flowers, with mulched paths that led to a garden shed and a stone wall and shade trees along the edge of a rolling field. A small hill rose across the field. Carriage Hill, presumably.

Samantha imagined a Christmas Eve wedding with freshly fallen snow, lights, a soft winter-blue sky. It would be beautiful. Then again, this place would be beautiful anytime of year—including now, with the autumn-tinged leaves, colorful mums and New England asters. She thought she could smell mint on the light breeze.

“My friend Maggie will be here soon,” Olivia said as she returned to the terrace with a breakfast tray. “We’re getting ready for my sister’s wedding here this weekend.”

Samantha sat up straight. “This weekend? Today is Thursday. You look so calm.”

“It’s not a huge wedding, and Maggie’s doing most of the heavy lifting, since the bride is my sister and I’ll be participating in the ceremony. Maggie’s unflappable. I’m more like the old saying about the duck—calm on the surface, paddling like crazy underneath.” Olivia laughed as she set the tray on the table. “But I’m calmer than I used to be, and it’ll all work out. Jess—that’s my sister—and Mark, her fiancé, are both from town, and the weather looks good for Saturday.”

“A New England fall wedding. It’ll be wonderful.”

Olivia unloaded a plate of whole-grain toast and small bowls of plain yogurt, fresh-cut fruit—apples, plums, peaches—and butter and jams. A coffee press, mug and cream pitcher came next, then the silverware and napkin.

“This is perfect,” Samantha said with a smile. “Thank you so much.”

“If you think of anything else you need, just let me know.”

“You’ll join me for coffee?”

“Happily.” Olivia sank into a chair, looking relaxed. “Maggie and I have a full day ahead of us.”

“I imagine so.” Samantha poured coffee, breathing in its strong smell. “Is your sister nervous about the wedding?”