The Spring at Moss Hill (25 page)

“That's great. I think I'd like Lila.”

Kylie laughed, and she noticed Russ did, too, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. But as he shifted his gaze to his brother, a seriousness came over Russ that told her his concern for Marty was genuine and not without reason. She reached across the table and touched Russ's hand. “Marty went through hell, didn't he?”

“He still has days he's in hell again.” But Russ didn't go further, instead throwing a few bills on the table and getting to his feet. “Careful. Daphne wasn't exaggerating about the duct tape.”

When they reached Julius Hartley's Hollywood Hills home, Kylie could feel herself dragging, but she enjoyed seeing Dylan and Noah and meeting Julius and Loretta. As Kylie enjoyed a glass of wine, it occurred to her that what they all had in common was her little New England town.

Julius and Loretta invited her to stay in a guest room. “If we'd known you were coming...” Loretta left it at that.

Kylie thanked them. “I have a breakfast meeting at my hotel. It's convenient. I have meetings through lunch. Then I get to go play and see the sights.”

“Are you showing Kylie around?” Dylan asked Russ casually.

“That would be great if you have time,” Kylie said.

“I have time.”

When he dropped her off at her hotel, he kissed her softly. “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

“Imagine the Badgers in Beverly Hills,” Russ said the following afternoon, as he walked with Kylie down Rodeo Drive, past shops with window displays of clothes, jewelry and merchandise he could appreciate but had little to no interest in owning—regardless of what he could afford. “They could have some serious Badger adventures here.”

“Imagine.”

“Sherlock Badger could crack a case. One of the Badger kids could get lost. They could learn about greed, envy and ambition. Could be fun.”

“You're a man who's comfortable in his own skin, aren't you?” Kylie asked as they passed another shop with a gorgeous window display.

“Sometimes.”

The day was very warm and dry, with a cloudless blue sky. Kylie seemed to notice every detail of the sun-washed buildings on Rodeo Drive and tourists like herself, taking in the high-end surroundings. Russ was far more aware of Kylie than he was of anyone or anything else on the posh street.

They found a small Mediterranean restaurant for dinner and sat at a quiet table, with lit candles. A real date, Russ thought.

“Are you going to leave Knights Bridge and find another place to hole up?” he asked her as she sat across from him.

“I love it there, but I don't have any firm plans. Dylan and Noah fit right in. They don't care about celebrity or money. No one's going to behave differently toward me because of who I am.” She opened her menu, stared at it a moment, then looked at Russ, the candlelight catching the pale, pretty blue of her eyes. “I want a fuller life than the one I've been leading. It's had its rewards, but it's time for a new approach.”

“How do you like my corner of California?”

“It's beautiful and exciting—and sunny.”

He laughed. “I thought you said all that sun would get on your nerves after a while.”

“I think it makes me bold.”

“That could be a plus or a minus. You'd miss George Sanderson staring down at you from above the library mantel if you moved out here. And your spring on Moss Hill. Did you close your eyes last night and pretend you were there?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

After dinner, he walked with her back to her hotel. They had a drink at the fancy bar and people-watched. She was a talented woman who had learned to trust her creative process to lead her to what project to tackle next.

Now, Russ thought, Kylie Shaw/Morwenna Mills had to trust herself to know when she was falling in love.

Twenty-Six

K
ylie left LA the following day, taking the same red-eye flight he had taken twice last week. He drove her to the airport and kissed her goodbye, but he could see her mind was spinning.

But so was his.

He dove into his non-Daphne work with Sawyer & Sawyer, on a real investigation involving witnesses, evidence, trial prep—different but not radically so from what he would do with Noah and Dylan and their lives and fledgling companies in Knights Bridge.

On Friday evening, Russ huddled with Julius in a booth at Marty's Bar, reviewing and brainstorming options and obstacles, running through what his proposed new venture would be like, the risks, the opportunities.

“Kylie Shaw is both a risk and an opportunity, isn't she?” Julius asked quietly.

Russ wasn't as taken aback by the question as he might have been a week ago. He knew the answer. He nodded at his friend. “You could say that, yes.”

Moving to an office and an apartment in Knights Bridge—at Moss Hill—would put him in the middle of her life. He'd be a distraction for her, whether or not things worked out between them. She was shaking off her months of nonstop work and isolation, wanted more balance in her life.

“Don't overthink it,” Julius said. “Do what's right for you.”

“Thanks, Julius.”

But Russ knew he wasn't overthinking so much as stuck because he needed to figure out his own personal situation.

Marty. Their mother.

The past. His regrets, his worries, his hopes.

The helicopter crash ten years ago had a grip on him as much as Daphne's attic sewing room and her life as Debbie Sanderson had had a grip on her.

The next morning, Russ flew to Phoenix, rented a car and drove to his mother's house in Scottsdale. He'd be back in Hollywood Hills by nightfall.

He hadn't seen his mother in months.

Janet Colton greeted him with a cool smile, as if he were delivering a package. “Please, come in, Russ.”

She'd had his tawny hair, but it was elegantly gray now, which suited her cool manner. She led him to her covered patio. A ceiling fan whirred, stirring the warm, almost hot, air. She had a pitcher of water and stack of glasses on a table, her stash for the morning, she explained. She was big on hydration.

She poured Russ a glass of water and handed it to him. “You're looking well. LA agrees with you?”

“It's fine. I spent most of last week on a job back east.”

She shuddered. “I don't like cold weather.”

“I might be working out there this next year. You can visit when it's warm.”

But they both knew she would never visit. “You're always welcome here,” she said. “The pool house doubles as a guest cottage.”

“It's a nice place. I'm glad you're happy.”

“I'm content. I keep happiness at arm's length. Life is easier that way.” She smiled, but her eyes remained distant, if not emotionless. “You look more and more like your father as you've gotten older. Marty takes after my father. How is he? He calls every week, but he never tells me anything.”

“He's doing great.”

It was what she wanted to hear because it was easiest for her.

Russ drank his water, and she let her three miniature white poodles out of the house. She laughed, letting them jump in her lap. He'd never seen her so warm and animated with his father, his brother or himself. As traumatized as she'd been by the helicopter crash, the woman she was now was the woman she'd always been. Bouncing around the country with the army hadn't made a career and family easy, but playing the dutiful wife and mother had also given her an excuse to focus on herself. His father hadn't minded, or if he had, he hadn't needed more in a relationship. She freed him up so he could devote himself to his career without distraction and play with his toys without guilt. They'd worked, in their own way.

But it wasn't what Russ wanted, and it wasn't who he was. He wasn't his mother, and he wasn't his father. Neither was Marty.

Marty didn't need saving.

Neither did their mother.

Russ chatted with her about her dogs and her hobbies—desert landscaping, yoga, attending lectures at a local college—and she asked a few surface questions about his life. He didn't get into Knights Bridge, Kylie, his plans with Noah Kendrick and Dylan McCaffrey.

She didn't ask about Marty. It wasn't deliberate, Russ realized. Her older son simply hadn't crossed her mind.

“Marty says hi,” Russ said as he started out.

“Wonderful. Tell him hi back.”

Russ promised he would and left.

She had her poodles and her hobbies and her nice house. They were enough.

He went back to LA, straight to Marty's Bar.

* * *

“We aren't the Badgers of Middle Branch,” Marty said, joining Russ at his booth with two beers and two plates of fish tacos.

“Nope.”

“Probably the Shaws aren't, either.”

“Kylie's dad is a vet,” Russ said.

“Oh. So maybe they are like the Badgers. That could be good. We're different.”

Russ grinned. “Always the bright side with you, Marty.”

“I got cozy with the dark side my first months in rehab. Mom was there every day through my dark spell. She might have hated it and resented it, but she was there, Russ. Don't be too hard on her. She's earned her poodles and her pool.”

“She's into desert plants, too.”

“And animals. She's into all those desert critters. Kylie would like that.”

“I'm glad Mom's made a life for herself.” Russ didn't tell his brother that duty more than love and empathy had driven their mother to be there for him during his long hospitalization and rehab. Maybe he was shortchanging her, but he didn't think so.

“Time for you to make a life for yourself.”

Russ leveled his gaze on his brother. “I'm sorry I wasn't there for you after the crash.”

“You were. You were serving your country, and that helped me on the dark days. If you'd given up everything for me—I don't think I'd have made it, Russ. I meant it when I said I didn't want you there. It was important to me that you weren't.”

“Thanks for that, Marty.”

“Now, if you'd been able to take my place in that beat-up, piece-of-crap helicopter...” Marty leaned back, looking at ease with himself. “What a miserable day that was.”

“Yeah,” Russ said.

“Pop went quick. He did all he could to pull us out of the crash, but it wasn't possible. It was his time. He knew it. I think he focused at the end on making sure Mom and I survived.”

“He would.”

Marty nodded. “Mom knows that, too. I don't judge her, Russ. If the biggest thing in her day is cleaning up poodle poop and pricking her finger on a cactus, then good for her. Damn good thing I got banged up, though, because otherwise you'd have married that woman—talk about driven. What is she, an admiral now?”

“We haven't stayed in touch.” Things had been a blur then, in the weeks after the helicopter crash, and Russ couldn't say for sure he'd contemplated marriage.

Marty was grinning at him. Russ sighed. “What?”

“You can't remember her name.”

“I could if you said it.”

“I was on morphine. How am I going to remember?”

“Did you meet her? Did I bring her by the rehab facility?

“I met her. She was the only woman I saw for weeks besides nurses, therapists and our sweet mother. She was driven.”

“I remember now. JAG. I think she is an admiral, married, a couple of kids. The fog clears. She dumped me.”

“Too much baggage because of the crash? Real nice. Bitch. I hate her.”

Russ shook his head. “Because we weren't right together.”

“Kylie Shaw has her head together. She's driven, but she's about the journey and not just the destination.”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

“Fight for her. Make the effort for her. She came out here. Now you get off your ass and go back there.”

“As it happens, I have a flight east tonight.”

Marty glared at him. “Just let me go on?”

“You were mesmerizing.”

“You are such a jerk, you know that?” Marty grinned, leaning over the table. “It's great having you in town, but you can't live out of a beat-up duffel bag forever, and you can't put your life on hold because of me.”

Russ didn't have a glass slipper, and his kiss wouldn't awaken a poisoned princess. He fit in better with the determined Badgers of Middle Branch.

“I can't get this wrong, Marty.”

“You won't. This lady isn't a project with a set of tasks attached to it. She's the love of your life. You're good together.”

Noah and Dylan needed an answer.

Russ had one.
Yes.

Twenty-Seven

A
fter her quick trip to Los Angeles, Kylie took the train to New York for a day of meetings with her agent and publisher. When she arrived back at her apartment that same evening, everything was exactly as she'd left it, but she felt different.

She couldn't un-ring the bell and go back to having Morwenna as her secret.

And she couldn't un-fall for Russ.

She sighed at Sherlock Badger. “Well, you're the same. I should have taken you with me to LA and New York. You're my rock, Sherlock.”

She swore he shook his head, swore he said,
No, I'm not. Russ Colton is your rock.

But, fortunately, Ruby O'Dunn had come home from Boston and was finally ready to talk. Kylie was downstairs, scraping dried mud off her bike, when Ruby stopped at Moss Hill, got out of her mother's car and fell apart.

Kylie grabbed Jess Flanagan, who was working late and called Maggie, Phoebe, Olivia and Samantha. Jess had the key to the apartment Russ had used while he was in town, and they all slipped inside because there were more places to sit than at Kylie's apartment.

Maggie collected a few things she had in the back of her van. A couple of bottles of Kendrick Winery merlot, cheese, olives, artichokes and chocolates, and Ruby poured out her heart. Clearing Christopher Sloan out of her system wasn't easy, but it was right for her, and for him.

“This great guy, and I'm giving him up...” She sniffled. “I pounced on the idea of a children's theater here for the wrong reasons. Daphne saw that before I did. She's put me in touch with people she knows. I have a summer internship in Hollywood. I leave in mid-May. How can I be heartbroken and excited at the same time?”

“Chris could have looked less relieved when he told Brandon and me you two were through with each other,” Maggie said. “Seriously. He's a fantastic guy, but he forgot there for a second that you're my little sister.”

Ruby laughed, sniffling back more tears.

“Mark's rented this place,” Jess said eventually. “The new tenant's moving in next weekend.”

“Who?” Kylie asked, startled.

“I didn't get around to asking.”

“Tell us about Beverly Hills, Kylie,” Ruby said. “I heard Russ Colton took you to dinner on Rodeo Drive.”

“Daphne told you?”

“You bet.”

“It must be fun now to integrate Kylie and Morwenna,” Olivia said.

“Did you buy something wonderful for yourself on Rodeo Drive?” Jess asked. “I bought an Hermes scarf when Mark and I went to Paris last year. It's so expensive I'm almost afraid to wear it.”

“I window-shopped,” Kylie said.

“With Russ?” Ruby asked. “Seriously?”

Kylie pictured Russ as they'd lingered at a jewelry display, his arm around her as she'd raised her eyebrows at over-the-top rings and necklaces worthy of Daphne Stewart. Then she'd realized his gaze had zeroed in on engagement rings. Even now, she could feel the leap her heart had taken, the sense that anything was possible when they were together.

“Do people see themselves in your badgers?” Maggie asked.

“My father says the badger vet is better-looking than he is,” Kylie said. “I'll be working on a new Badger installment soon. Right now I'm tackling
Beauty and the Beast
. I'm adjusting to integrating Morwenna into my public, day-to-day life. It hasn't been as challenging as I thought it might be.”

Olivia nibbled on a piece of cheese. “What are your plans now? Do you think you'll stay in Knights Bridge?”

“I love it here, but...” Kylie smiled. “We'll see.”

The women all seemed to guess a man was involved in her decision-making process, and probably who that man was.

But they didn't ask.

They all pitched in to clean up, and Ruby promised she would be there for any of them if they needed a good cry. “Which I hope you never will,” she added.

“Especially not over a Sloan,” Maggie said with a long-suffering shake of her head and a spark in her eyes.

Samantha concurred. “I love that hardheaded Justin, I have to say.”

“Can't wait for that wedding,” Maggie said. “Brandon's home plotting a camping trip with our boys and Clare Morgan's son. I have declined to join them. I hate sleeping in a tent.”

“You and Chris will both be fine,” Phoebe, the quietest of the women, said. “You
are
fine, Ruby.”

After everyone left, Kylie returned to her apartment. She had a new request for an appearance as Morwenna, this one at a reading festival in southwest Florida next spring. Her agent was thrilled when Kylie had told her she would be doing more public events to meet young readers, parents, guardians, librarians and teachers. She just needed to budget the time.

But her work was here, in Knights Bridge, she thought, looking out at the river.

This was where she would create more Badger stories, and whatever came next.

She'd only had a few sips of wine across the hall and took her glass onto her balcony. Wine alone didn't hold the charm it once had. She observed this fact with an aching loneliness and a stubborn sense of hope that wasn't as odd a mix as she might have thought when she'd moved into Moss Hill.

She missed Russ, but he wouldn't leave her dangling—and she wouldn't let him. He was honorable in his own way, and she was tenacious in hers. Half her success as an illustrator she attributed to pure doggedness, a refusal to give up even when the work was hard-to-impossible, the financial rewards were meager and uncertain and any appreciation was damn near nonexistent.

Loving the work helped, just as now loving Russ helped.

The warming spring weather only made her miss Russ more. Did he ride a bike? Kylie realized she didn't know. Probably. He could do anything physical.

And right there went her powers of concentration.

She left her wineglass on the balcony—she'd only taken a few sips of a nice pinot noir, purchased at the country store but not on sale—and went back inside. She grabbed a dark green crayon. She smiled. She had her beast now.

* * *

In the morning, she rode her bike to the house past the covered bridge, with its sprawling maple tree in the front yard fully leafed out, with wild columbine and chives blossoming along the stone wall and a rooster weathervane pointing west with the steady breeze.

She could see a dog asleep in the shade, and she could hear children laughing—and she could smell the first strawberries of the season, tart-sweet and ready for whipped cream and shortcake.

All in her imagination, she knew. A scene for the
Badgers of Middle Branch
, perhaps.

The youngest Badger adored strawberries.

Kylie eased off her bike and sat on the stone wall, looking across the quiet road to the river. She could do California. Really, she could. If Russ was there, if he wanted her in his life—to build a life together—she could do Beverly Hills, San Diego, a houseboat in a Dutch canal, a loft in Paris, a condo in Chicago...anywhere. Her career was portable. She could fly to visit her parents and sister. With her parents retiring and Lila graduating soon, who knew where they'd end up, anyway?

Everything and anything seemed possible, not because of money or determination but because of love. Crazy as it might be, she felt it was true, and she believed it.

Falling in love not only could happen to her, it had happened.

She'd opened herself up to it, invited it into her life, said yes to it—to all the risks, the uncertainties and the possibilities that came with it. But it wasn't just about how she felt. It was what she wanted to do. She was restless, twitchy, frustrated with inaction. What kind of doing would loving Russ involve?

She smiled at the thoughts that popped into her head. Kissing, stroking, hugging.

Making love.

Talking over glasses of wine, making dinner, picking apples in the fall, taking off for a drive in the country without a map or GPS...

She could think of a thousand ways to love Russ Colton.

She jumped up from the stone wall and looked back at the house, but this time she realized the For Sale sign wasn't up anymore.

Her heart sank. Someone had made an offer on the house? Already?

She fought the tightness in her throat, forcing herself to swallow and take a deep breath. Hadn't she just been picturing herself on a houseboat in Amsterdam?

But it felt like an omen, and she ran across the yard, through a small field and into the woods, leaving her bike behind at the house that never would be hers. She ducked between two white pines onto a trail. Whether it was the wind or tears, her eyes were watery and her cheeks wet when she arrived at her spring on Moss Hill.