He stepped up onto the porch and gave her one of his slight, enigmatic smiles. “I also liked the idea of wine.”
“That’s how you operate, isn’t it?” She felt his gaze on her and remembered she was in her Edwardian dress. She ignored a tingle of awareness and continued. “You get an idea. Then you take action.”
“It’s hard to get anything done if you just think about it.” He touched an errant curl that had flopped from her updo onto her cheek. “You look beautiful tonight, Phoebe. I like the dress even better with your natural hair.”
“I’m hosting the fashion show tonight. It seemed fitting to wear this dress.”
“It’s perfect. Tonight’s special in a number of ways.”
“Yes, it is.” She felt calmer, steadier, even as she recognized that her head was spinning at having him back in Knights Bridge. “Thank you for being here. I haven’t talked to Olivia, so I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I asked her not to say anything. Things have been happening fast.” He glanced back at Thistle Lane, then turned to her again. “I appreciate all you and your sisters did to help figure out what Julius Hartley wanted.”
“You’re the one who put us in touch with Daphne Stewart.”
“Through Hartley.”
Phoebe nodded. “It’s really exciting. I knew the hidden sewing room was special but I had no idea the woman who created it ended up in Hollywood. I haven’t told anyone. I’ve just said it’s okay to use the dresses—that won’t give Miss Stewart away, if she wants to stay anonymous.”
“I don’t know that she does,” Noah said quietly. “Olivia and Dylan will be here soon. They have Loretta Wrentham and Julius Hartley with them, and a guest.”
Phoebe stood straight. “Noah?”
His eyes seemed so blue in the evening light. “We met Daphne Stewart in Los Angeles. Hartley had told her about the fashion show, and how you’d discovered her old sewing room. She said she wanted to be here tonight, if it’s all right with you.”
“She’s here in Knights Bridge? Noah…”
“I’ll let her explain everything.”
“She really is George Sanderson’s great-great-granddaughter, you know.”
Noah smiled, visibly more relaxed. “George Sanderson, the intrepid founder of the Knights Bridge Free Public Library.”
“I wonder if being here inspired her.”
“Or maybe his ghost did.”
Noah tucked another curl back into Phoebe’s pins, then stood back as Dylan’s car pulled in front of her house. He and Olivia got out. She gave Phoebe a quick wave, as if to say everything would be all right. Then the sleek black sedan returned, parked behind Dylan’s car.
Julius Hartley emerged from the backseat while a tall, slender woman in tight black pants, a belted white top and red heels stepped out from the front passenger seat. Julius helped another woman out of the back. She was petite and elegant, with copper hair in a pixie cut. She wore a simple rust-colored dress with a teal-and-rust scarf and sparkly gold flats.
The tall woman glided up the walk to the front porch. “I’m Loretta Wrentham,” she said, coming up the steps. “Phoebe, right?”
Phoebe nodded, aware of Noah standing even closer to her. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I’ll bet,” Loretta said. “Cute place. I like wicker.”
“Me, too,” Phoebe said with a smile.
Noah frowned at Loretta. She shrugged. “Well, I do.”
He said nothing.
The copper-haired woman crossed the lawn with Julius Hartley at her side. Phoebe started down the porch steps. Noah took her hand and walked with her. Loretta followed them. Phoebe thought she heard the older woman sigh.
The copper-haired woman left Julius’s side and went to the trellis, tears glistening in her deep green eyes as she touched a pink rose. She lowered her hand and turned to Phoebe and Noah. “I never thought I’d ever see this place again.”
Julius cleared his throat. “Daphne, this is Phoebe O’Dunn, director of the library here in Knights Bridge. Phoebe, this is Daphne Stewart, or, as she was known when she was living here, Debbie Sanderson.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Stewart,” Phoebe said, aware of Noah, silent, still, next to her.
“Likewise, Phoebe, and you must call me Daphne—although standing here, seeing this place…” She smiled through unshed tears. “I feel like Debbie Sanderson again.”
Phoebe returned her smile. “I can imagine. I’m glad you’re here.”
Daphne stood back, eyeing Phoebe with obvious emotion, then pointed. “Your dress…”
Phoebe glanced down at the beautiful gown. “I couldn’t resist.”
Daphne laughed unexpectedly. “That’s good. Excellent, in fact. My heavens, that dress does look stunning on you.”