After her sisters left, Phoebe sat outside on a wicker chair in the cool night air and called Olivia in San Diego. “I’m watching fireflies,” she said when her friend answered. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sitting on Dylan’s porch looking out at the Pacific. It’s quite a view.” Olivia sounded content. “How’s everything in Knights Bridge?”
“You know the mystery man from the ball is Julius Hartley, a California private investigator, right?”
“Yes. Noah and Dylan have been in touch.”
“He was out at my mother’s place this afternoon. Hartley. It must be because I danced with Noah at the masquerade.”
“Is there anything I can do, Phoebe?”
“I don’t know that there’s anything to be done,” she said, then told Olivia about the hidden room. “Has anyone in your family ever mentioned a woman who loved Hollywood and was also an incredible seamstress?”
“Not that I recall. I can ask.”
“Maggie, the twins and I think she might have lived here—in my house on Thistle Lane.”
“Maybe my folks remember her. I can ask. Who else knows?”
“Noah.” Before Olivia could respond, Phoebe changed the subject. “How do you like San Diego, Liv?”
“I love it. I’m having a great time. Coronado is beautiful. I love Dylan’s house. It’s across from the beach.” She added with a small laugh, “The interior could use some color.”
“It sounds idyllic.”
“I don’t see Dylan giving up San Diego entirely. I don’t know that I want him to. We’ll figure it out. It’s not exactly a problem, you know?”
Phoebe stood up from her wicker chair and looked out at the dark lane, wondered if her seamstress had once done the same. “Sometimes it’s harder to open ourselves up to new possibilities than just to stay put where we are, emotionally, physically. You have so much going for you now. Dylan, too. If you hadn’t left Boston when you did, the way you did…”
“Phoebe? You don’t sound like yourself. Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing. It’s good to talk to you. I hope you know I’ll support whatever you and Dylan decide to do.”
“We’ll be flying back soon,” Olivia said. “We’ll be there for the fashion show, for sure.”
“I’m sure Noah will head back to San Diego now that he’s found his mystery man. Julius Hartley’s heading back to L.A., too.” Phoebe tried to ignore a rush of emotion. “Maggie and I can see to Buster and your place.”
“Have you met Hartley?”
“Just for a few minutes. He was pretending to be interested in buying goats from my mother. Noah and I went over there.”
“What did he think of your mother’s place?” Olivia asked.
“He didn’t say but it’s obviously not what he’s used to.” Phoebe sat on the top porch step, next to the trellis and its tangle of roses, and smiled into the phone. “Have you seen his place in San Diego?”
“Just the NAK offices. They’re incredible. It must be weird for him to go from working night and day to not knowing what’s next.”
“True.” Phoebe wished she hadn’t brought up Noah’s life in San Diego. “We missed you at movie night tonight. My head’s spinning a little from the wine. We watched To Catch a Thief.”
“And was Grace Kelly’s dress as much like the one Maggie wore as we thought?”
“It’s identical. It’s amazing.”
“I understand Brandon’s sleeping in a tent at Dylan’s place,” Olivia said. “Dylan thinks he’s there to get her back. What are the odds he does?”
Phoebe didn’t hesitate. “He will. No question. I’m just not telling her that’s what I think.”
They laughed, Phoebe finally relaxing as she and Olivia chatted for a few more minutes. When they hung up and she went back inside, she realized how quiet the house was, and how alone she was. She’d never felt alone before. How could she, here in the midst of her hometown? So, why did she now?
“It’s Noah,” she said aloud, knowing that no one was eavesdropping in the roses and hollyhocks outside her windows.
She and her sisters had gone upstairs and found the box in the closet. Phoebe carried it downstairs. They went through the contents for any obvious clues to their seamstress’s identity. A name scrawled on the inside of a book, an old letter, an old bank statement. But there was nothing except the books themselves.
Phoebe took a yellowed copy of The Moonspinners from the box and brought it up to bed with her. She’d lose herself in Mary Stewart’s descriptions of Crete, and she wouldn’t think about kissing Noah Kendrick in the library attic.
*
Brandon Sloan was a damn pirate at heart.
Maggie held that thought as she watched him come out the front door of her Gothic Revival house. It was just the sort of place the Sloans loved: one in need of carpenters.
He sat next to her on the steps. The night was cool enough that he had on an old gray sweatshirt. She was chilly in her sundress but tried not to shiver. It was all she needed, him thinking he ought to put an arm around her to help keep her warm.
“The boys want hockey sticks,” she said. “Did they tell you?”