She nodded. “They enjoyed it. It’s hard not to identify with Peter.”
“He drinks chamomile tea at the end.” He smiled that enigmatic smile she’d noticed straight off at the masquerade in Boston. “You and Olivia and your sisters must love chamomile tea.”
“Especially with lemon,” Phoebe said with a laugh.
“That Peter is a risk taker. Not all his risks work out that well, but his life is more exciting because he takes a few chances. At least he ends up with some great stories to tell.” Noah set the book on the circulation desk. “Okay if I leave it here? My mind was elsewhere and I don’t remember which shelf it was on.”
“We’ll take care of it.”
“I’m loquacious tonight. Must be that uplifting orange mint I inhaled all morning.”
Nothing in her research had indicated that Noah Kendrick, founder and CEO of NAK, Inc., had a wry sense of humor, but Phoebe had discovered he did. He stood back, studied a series of framed photographs of Quabbin—Winsor Dam, Goodnough Dike, the cemetery where graves and monuments from the lost towns were relocated and the beautiful, pristine waters of the reservoir itself.
Phoebe eased in next to Noah and pointed to the steep, grassy hill formed by the dam on the southern end of the reservoir. “My mother used to roll down the hill when she was a kid. Can you imagine? They don’t allow that anymore, and they closed the road over the dam after 9/11 for security reasons.” She nodded to another photograph of an inundated section of what used to be Enfield, the largest of the towns that were depopulated, disincorporated and razed. “Those islands were once hills in the valley towns.”
Noah gave her a sideways glance. “You love this valley.”
“It was flooded decades before I was born, but when I see people like Grace Webster, it doesn’t feel that long ago. She loves that the protected wilderness has helped with the return of bald eagles to the area.” Phoebe smiled. “She’s holding out for mountain lions.”
“Was your father from around here?”
“He grew up in a mill town just north of here. He came to Knights Bridge after he returned from Vietnam. He was drafted. He said all he ever wanted when he got back was to live in a small town and have a small farm.” Phoebe went back behind her desk and grabbed her tote bag. “I don’t think he ever imagined meeting my mother and having four daughters.”
Noah turned from the photographs. “How did they meet?”
“My mother got lost in the woods by our house. There was just the shed then. Dad was living out there alone. He thought he’d be alone forever. Thought he wanted to be. Then Mom showed up, no idea where she was—and she’s lived in Knights Bridge all her life. She was dehydrated, covered in mosquito bites and singing Christmas carols. It was the dead of summer, but she says she could only remember the words to Christmas carols.”
“What did your father do?” Noah seemed genuinely interested. “Did he have a phone? I think I’d have called the police, or at least an ambulance.”
“No phone. He liked to tell us as kids that he tried to pretend the shed was abandoned, but my mother saw his truck and had heard stories about a Vietnam vet living out there, and she doesn’t give up easily.” Phoebe switched off her desk lamp, then started to the entrance, aware of Noah watching her, his stillness, his intensity. She glanced back at him. “Coming?”
“I want to hear the end of the story. What did your father do when your mother finally got him to come out of the shed?”
“He gave her water and took her home. She said that was when she knew he was the man for her.” Phoebe was silent a moment, picturing the two of them together. “Dad always said Mom saved him from becoming a hermit. He really loved all of us so much.”
Noah joined her and they went out together. She locked up, then walked down the stairs with him. It was dark now. She’d noticed it becoming darker earlier, another sign the end of summer was near.
“Did your father retain some of his hermitlike ways?” Noah asked as they descended the stairs.
Phoebe noticed their shadows as they walked out to the street. Across the common, two teenagers were playing Frisbee. She took a breath, regaining control over her emotions. “He never liked to go places,” she said. “He was content to stay in Knights Bridge.”
“What about you, Phoebe?” Noah asked softly. “Do you want to travel?”
“I’d love to. My mother’s always wanted to do a walking tour in England.”
“What do you want to do?”
She smiled. “A walking tour in England. Jane Austen country, I think.”
“So you’d go with your mother.”
“Yes, absolutely,” Phoebe said without hesitation. “We travel well together, not that we’ve ever gone that far. Olivia wants Maggie and me to see San Diego.”