“Debbie Sanderson is the given name of the woman who created the hidden room.” Noah kept his eyes on the man across the table. “She lived in Knights Bridge for a year. Then she took off for Hollywood and reinvented herself.”
“Are you speculating, or do you have facts to back up this claim?” Julius asked.
Noah pointed his water at him. “You’re protecting Debbie Sanderson’s new identity.”
Julius sighed. “You MIT types are just so damn smart, aren’t you?”
Loretta let all the pieces fall into place in her own mind. She set her margarita on the table and looked at Julius. “What did she have you do, watch for Knights Bridge in the news?”
“She does that herself,” he said. “She saw a gossip piece saying that Dylan was engaged to a graphic designer from Knights Bridge. She read about his hockey years, his treasure-hunter father, his best friend the billionaire founder of NAK.”
“Did she have you investigate, or did you volunteer?” Loretta asked.
“She’s a very special lady.”
Meaning he’d volunteered, Loretta thought.
“I’m the one who told her about the fashion show,” Julius said. “She knew it meant her room had been discovered. With you and Dylan in the picture, I had to investigate.”
“What’s her name now?” Noah asked quietly.
Hartley didn’t answer.
Noah leaned forward. “It’s Daphne Stewart, isn’t it?”
Julius looked uncomfortable but said nothing, and Loretta decided to give up on her margarita. She frowned at the two men. “Who’s Daphne Stewart?”
“She’s a highly respected independent costume designer in Hollywood,” Noah said, his eyes still on Julius. “She’s worked on any number of movies. Daphne Stewart is the name she gave herself after she left Knights Bridge forty years ago and headed west.”
“She guards her privacy.” Julius suddenly wasn’t as cocky. “You of all people can understand that.”
Noah’s expression softened. “I won’t intrude on her privacy. Neither will Dylan. Is she a friend?”
“She’s become one, yes. She’s a client with a law firm I do a lot of work for. She’s got a keen sense of drama. She likes knowing a private investigator.” Julius seemed slightly less shaken by Noah’s knowledge. “What about Olivia and Phoebe O’Dunn and her family?”
“What do you think?” Noah asked, his tone as steady and controlled as ever. “Do you think they want to intrude on Miss Stewart’s privacy?”
Julius sighed. “I’ve already told her that it’s my judgment that they don’t and her privacy and anonymity are safe if that’s what she wants. Is Phoebe using any of Daphne’s dresses in the show?”
“I spoke to her a little while ago,” Noah said. “The library will only use the dresses with Miss Stewart’s permission, now that she knows her identity. Even if the library can claim the contents of the sewing room she created, they won’t. Miss Stewart is free to reclaim anything she left behind.”
Loretta shifted her attention from Julius to Noah. “Have you seen this secret sewing room?” she asked.
Noah nodded. “It’s just as Miss Stewart left it at twenty-one.” He steadied his gaze again on Julius. “Please let her know that the people of Knights Bridge would welcome her anytime she’d like to return.”
Julius raised an eyebrow. “Phoebe told you that?”
Noah didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Loretta sat forward. “Is she here in San Diego?”
“Not now, no,” Noah said, his tone unreadable.
“Phoebe figured out that Debbie Sanderson and Daphne Stewart are one and the same?” Julius asked.
“With the help of her sisters.” Noah drank more of his water before he continued. “Miss Stewart left a number of books behind in the house she rented while she lived in Knights Bridge.”
“Phoebe’s house now,” Julius added.
“That’s right. Rebecca, The Moonspinners.”
“Daphne du Maurier and Mary Stewart,” Loretta said. “Daphne Stewart.”
Noah smiled for the first time. “Exactly. Phoebe and her sisters figured out that the Debbie Sanderson who worked at the Knights Bridge library forty years ago and sewed dresses secretly in the attic had to be Daphne Stewart of Hollywood.”
“I’ll be damned.” Loretta grinned. “I read Daphne du Maurier and Mary Stewart as a kid. I love their books.”
*
Noah looked out at the San Diego skyline from his corner office suite at NAK, the company he’d founded, built and taken public. He’d had the kernel of the idea for it at twelve. It had grown from there, so that now NAK was a leader in the convergence of technology and entertainment. It was an exciting company, with people clamoring to work there.
“We did a good job,” he said, knowing that Dylan had entered the office.
“You did.” Dylan joined Noah at the windows. “I just helped you so that you could put your skills to their best use.”
“You had my back. Who has yours, Dylan?”