“Yes, but we all encouraged her to find something just for herself.” Phoebe smiled wistfully. “Dad would never have had goats. Chickens, maybe, but he didn’t really like having farm animals.”
They walked past an old stone wall that marked a field that Phoebe told him the goats had cleared last summer. The tall grass was dotted with wildflowers—yellow, white, deep orange. Noah had no idea what they were but suspected the O’Dunns would, Phoebe especially. She was the sort who soaked up knowledge, loved to learn new things.
She seemed pensive and yet also comfortable at her childhood home. She squinted back at the shed. “My father built the shed when he first moved out here. He lived in it for a few years, before he met my mother. He always planned to convert it into a barn. There’s a natural spring just into the woods, and a stream that he loved. There’s a lake in the state forest farther down the road.”
“This area seems to have a lot of water,” Noah said.
“It does. Ponds, lakes, streams, rivers. That’s why the Swift River Valley was chosen for a reservoir. Quabbin is a Native American word that translates as ‘place of many waters.’”
“It’s a beautiful spot to have grown up, Phoebe.”
“My father was twelve years older than my mother. He worked in forestry jobs. He wanted to make money as a farmer but it never happened.” She took a breath. “We still miss him. We always will.”
“Brandon told me what happened. He didn’t go into detail. Phoebe—”
“I found him,” Phoebe said abruptly. “I had to tell my mother, my sisters. It was a difficult time but we got through it. My mother has a full life but she’s never remarried. Some days I don’t know how she manages this place, even with our help. She has a live-for-today mentality that sometimes makes tomorrow a little sketchy.”
“You worry about her,” Noah said.
“It’s hard not to sometimes. I can’t imagine why Hartley went to the trouble of driving out here. The goats are providing milk for Maggie and Olivia’s soaps. Olivia’s the fiancée of your best friend.” Phoebe slowed her pace. “Could Hartley be interested in Dylan and not you? Worried we’re taking advantage of him?”
“No one takes advantage of Dylan.”
Phoebe stopped, the sunlight deepening the rich turquoise of her eyes as she studied him a moment. “Do people take advantage of you?” she asked finally.
Noah shrugged. “They didn’t when Dylan was working down the hall.”
“Are you worried they will now?”
“I’m making the transition from having total control over NAK. It’s good for the company and its future. Regardless, I’ve always been better at creating ideas than watching for snakes in the grass.”
“Fencing helps?”
“It helps me focus on the present.”
“Otherwise you get stabbed,” Phoebe said. “It must be a great motivator.”
He leaned in close to her. “In classical fencing, we try to touch without being touched. Any touch with a sharp sword can be deadly. Sport fencing is different. It’s based on a point system.”
“You get points for touching.”
Noah saw her amusement and smiled. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, but sports fencing isn’t the same as a real fight. It’s an athletic competition. Classical fencing isn’t a real fight, either, since we’re not out to kill each other and take safety seriously, but it simulates a real fight.”
“Are you good?” Phoebe asked.
“I’m not competitive in that way. I enjoy fencing and karate because they work with my schedule and personality.” He heard the caw of a crow out in the field and suddenly realized how quiet it was. “And you, Phoebe? Do you participate in a competitive sport?”
She shook her head. “Never have. I like to walk and work in the garden. I took a yoga class once. I enjoyed it, but yoga’s hardly competitive.” A breeze blew strands of red hair into her face as she gave him a sideways glance. “So if you don’t want to continue to run NAK or end up as the loose-end founder hanging out in the halls, you have to figure out what to do with the rest of your life.”
“I could learn to make goat’s milk soap.”
“Maybe that’s why Julius Hartley is following you,” Phoebe said quietly. “Maybe the uncertainty about what’s next for you and even Dylan is causing problems in San Diego.”
“Maybe it is,” Noah said, slowing as they reached the shade of a birch tree, its trunk a bright white against the lush green leaves and grass, the clear blue of the sky. “You’re perceptive. Have you always been, or has your work at the library helped?”
“Work at the library’s helped me in many ways, but I don’t think of myself as perceptive. I get surprised by people all the time.”
“Who broke your heart, Phoebe?”
Her eyes widened but she smiled. “See? I was just surprised by you. I didn’t expect that.”
He stood closer. “Have you given up on love? Falling in love is fine for your sisters, your friends, but for you…”