“I’m sure,” Noah said.
He’d remember, Phoebe thought. That was how his mind worked. “What could he want with my mother? He’s not interested in buying goats. I don’t want that man in her life at all.”
“I’ll make sure he stays away from her. Where does she live?”
Phoebe shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, Noah, but I’ll see to my mother. She’s off work now. She’ll be at home. I think she was planning to can tomatoes tonight.”
“Hartley’s my problem, Phoebe.”
“And my mother’s mine,” Phoebe said with a smile, then set the folded dress on the sewing table.
“Any idea how Hartley knew she keeps goats?”
“Not specifically, no, but it’s not a secret. If he asked around town, someone would have told him.”
“Olivia and your sister Maggie are getting into goat’s milk soaps. That might explain his interest in your mother.” Noah touched the fringe on the folded dress. “The workmanship is impressive.”
“It is, isn’t it? It’s so precise. Whoever worked up here paid attention to every detail. Maybe it wasn’t right to wear the dresses to the masquerade. I’d assumed we’d use some of the more fun and interesting outfits in here for the fashion show.”
“That makes sense.”
“When I came up here just now…” Phoebe glanced around the small room. “It felt as if I was intruding into someone’s private life. Someone’s hidden life.”
Noah turned from the sewing table. “If no one was supposed to find this room, then why leave everything behind? Why create it in the first place?”
“I should get Olivia up here when she’s back home. She collects vintage linens. Maybe she can help. And Ava and Ruby know more about Hollywood-related fashions than I do. I recognized the dresses Maggie and Olivia wore, but who wouldn’t?”
“They’re in good condition.”
“They were stored properly. The fabrics have faded and yellowed over the years, but almost everything’s in remarkably decent shape.” Phoebe noticed that Noah’s eyes were half closed as he watched her, and she forced a small laugh. “Did I lose you at ‘vintage’?”
“You haven’t lost me at all.”
She believed him. She took in a breath. “Who knows, maybe this room’s the work of our resident ghost. Some people believe the library really is haunted.”
“By a handsome sea captain?”
“You never know.”
“I don’t see you sneaking up here to talk to ghosts.”
“Not even a sea captain?” She angled him a smile, ignored the sudden rush of emotion, of pure awareness at being alone with him in such a confined space, in the heat, the stillness and quiet of the hot summer afternoon. “A swashbuckler, maybe?”
He touched a finger to a long strand of her curls and tucked them behind her ear, where there was no chance they’d stay put. “I’m sorry Hartley showed up in your town, Phoebe. He got under your skin. I won’t let him hurt you or your family.”
“You’re more intuitive than you like to let on, I think.” She realized he hadn’t pulled back, hadn’t tucked her hair behind her ear just because it was driving him crazy. “You like people to think you’re just a math genius who got lucky, but there’s more to your success than that. You’re always in control, aren’t you?”
“Not always,” he said, then let his finger drift down to her cheek as if to give added meaning to his words.
Phoebe licked her lips, cleared her throat. “I’ve read several books and magazine articles on entrepreneurial thinking. You’re a natural entrepreneur. You’re young—I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up as a serial entrepreneur who is energized by starting new businesses, and helping other people start new businesses.” She suddenly felt the bodice of her sundress sticking to her breasts. What was she saying? Just stop. Be quiet. “Anyway. That’s neither here nor there.”
He smiled. “I like it that you’re trying to figure me out. Most people just give up.”
“You’re a good listener,” she said, realizing she wasn’t embarrassed at rattling on about entrepreneurship. “I could talk to you all night.” She winced at her own words, embarrassed now. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right.”
“You can talk to me anytime, Phoebe.”
She was used to talking to people in her work and around town, but not like this—not with romantic undertones, with sexual undertones, and not to a man like Noah. Not to the best friend of her friend’s fiancé. Phoebe couldn’t deny she was attracted to him. She couldn’t even pretend she wasn’t. She just knew it didn’t mean anything, and she wouldn’t do anything to make things awkward between him and Dylan.
“We should go,” she said. “Do you have any idea what Julius Hartley wants with you? I imagine you have your share of troublemakers in your life. Is he one of them?”