Carla Neggers - That Night on Thistle Lane

“Than staying a step ahead of a cloud of mosquitoes, for sure.”

Maggie laughed, feeling more herself again. “Brandon and I climbed Mount Washington before the boys came along. What an experience. The views stay with you forever, don’t they?”

“I liked the hot dogs at the top,” Noah said with a wink.

Dylan and Olivia joined them, and Maggie pulled off her mask. The evening was winding down and she wanted to change back into her regular clothes, forget any wild fantasies she’d had. She glanced around for her pirate husband, but he had disappeared. She expected to feel relief but she had to acknowledge a pang of disappointment, too.

And of loneliness, she thought. For so long, she and Brandon had been at each other’s sides. Lovers, best friends, parents to their two little boys.

How had they let that get away from them?

Maggie pasted a smile on her face. She wasn’t going to think about what had gone wrong between her and Brandon right now. She turned down Olivia and Dylan’s offer to walk with her back to Olivia’s apartment and instead headed out alone.

The night was warm and still, Copley Square filled with people. Maggie told herself she needed this time on her own. She’d loved living in Boston, but she didn’t miss city life as much as she thought she would when she’d packed up herself and the boys and returned to Knights Bridge. Her hometown had plenty to offer, and it was a great place for Tyler and Aidan. They’d made new friends, loved being close to family. It was the same for Maggie. Even her work was better in Knights Bridge. In Boston, she’d worked part-time for different caterers. Now she had her own catering business, and it was getting off the ground faster than she’d anticipated or even had hoped it would.

She cut down to Commonwealth Avenue and continued on to attractive, residential Marlborough Street. She’d always wanted to live in Back Bay, but she and Brandon had rented a series of apartments in less expensive parts of the city. It wasn’t just a question of finances, she’d finally realized. It was what he wanted, where he was comfortable. Back Bay wouldn’t suit him.

She used Olivia’s keys to get into the apartment. Olivia planned to give it up, but it definitely came in handy tonight. Maggie wouldn’t have wanted to drive home after her evening as Grace Kelly.

She caught her reflection in the entry mirror. She’d managed to avoid mirrors all evening and was a little shocked at how she looked. Sexy, a little devil-may-care. Leave it to Ava and Ruby to get creative and theatrical. Phoebe’s discovery of the look-alike dress from To Catch a Thief was perfect, but the twins were responsible for the subtle Grace Kelly makeup, the push-up bra, the blond wig and the glittery mask.

Maggie pulled off the wig, then unpinned her hair and let it fall to her shoulders.

Already she looked and felt more like Maggie O’Dunn, mom to two young boys, second of four sisters, caterer to showers, weddings, meetings, reunions, fundraisers and even the occasional wake.

If not always the most practical person, she was at least able to manage on her own.

Did she look and feel like the wife of Brandon Sloan anymore?

Had he left the hotel and found his way to a sports bar?

Everyone liked Brandon. He was easy to like since he didn’t have to deal with the details of paying bills, raising their sons, figuring out their future. When faced with unemployment, he’d taken off for the mountains with a backpack and his dreams. He’d never meant to be a carpenter forever. He was good at it, he even liked it—but he thought he should be doing something else. Maggie didn’t even know what anymore. She doubted he did, either.

She put him out of her mind and dialed her mother’s house. Tyler picked up. “Gran’s making hot chocolate.”

“Hey, Tyler. Why are you still up?”

“The bat woke us up.”

“I see.” Bats weren’t unheard of at her mother’s farmhouse, especially in summer. “Where’s the bat now?”

“Gran shooed it outside with a broom. I helped.”

“Good for you. What about your brother?”

“He hid under his blanket. He’s having hot chocolate, too.”

“All right. Well, you two be good and help Gran. Tell her I called, okay?”

“I will, Mom. When are you coming home?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Did you see Dad?”

She couldn’t lie to her son. “I did, but just for a few minutes.”

“He’s taking me and Aidan camping.”

Maggie heard the questioning note in Tyler’s voice and responded without hesitation. “Yes, absolutely, he’s taking you and Aidan camping.” That was one thing she knew for certain: Brandon would keep his promise to his sons. “Go enjoy your hot chocolate. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When she disconnected, she threw her phone onto the entry table and sank onto the sofa. It opened out into a bed. She would sleep there.

She kicked off her shoes and noticed a side seam in her flowing dress had split an inch, probably from dancing with her husband.

“Why aren’t you here with me, Brandon?”

She hugged her arms around herself and burst into tears.

* * *

Phoebe could hear the pitter-pat of rain on the library roof as she sat cross-legged on the wood floor of the hidden attic room. Too wired to sleep after the masquerade ball and the drive back to Knights Bridge, she’d changed into yoga pants and a lightweight fleece tunic, intending to do a few stretches on the living room floor, but she’d ended up grabbing a flashlight and heading out into what was then a light drizzle. As she’d breathed in the damp night air, she imagined her swashbuckler’s arms around her.

What a night it had been.

She’d walked down Thistle Lane to the library, letting herself in through the side door. Putting aside thoughts of ghosts, she’d debated a moment before starting up the back stairs. A more formal set of stairs in the main room led just to the second floor. In her five years with the library, she’d seldom ventured up to the attic. One of those rare times was two weeks ago, and it had resulted in the discovery of the dresses that she, Olivia and Maggie had worn tonight.

It was pouring rain now, pitch-dark outside. Phoebe had never been up to the attic at night. She half expected a bat to fly out from its dark recesses, crowded with cast-off library furnishings, archives, books and everything her waste-not, want-not predecessors over the past century-plus had thought might come in handy someday.

She’d come upon the hidden room accidentally, when she’d lifted a small paper bag sitting on top of an old filing cabinet and a dozen antique marbles broke out of the bottom. They dropped onto the floor, rolling every which way. Several rolled under two tin closets standing side by side, filled with more junk and treasures. She’d edged between the closets, determined to collect the marbles.

As she’d bent down to retrieve a colorful swirled boulder, she noticed a door behind the free-standing closets. She’d had no idea it was there. Madly curious, she’d tucked the marble in her dress pocket and shoved the closets back just enough to give her room to get at the door. It was unlocked but obviously hadn’t been opened in a while. It hadn’t given way easily.

She’d expected to find that it was a closet, probably stuffed with more of the mishmash of materials in the rest of the attic. Instead the door opened into a small room that she hadn’t even realized existed. It was lined with shelves and cupboards neatly arranged with fabric, patterns, buttons, zippers, needles, thread, notions, buttons—everything an avid seamstress might need.

A secret sewing room.

It felt like a hideaway, a tiny retreat where someone could sit and work in peace and quiet. Another door opened onto a remote corner of the sprawling attic, by a small window that overlooked the town common. A dusty sewing table was positioned so that a seamstress could work with a pleasant view and a bit of natural light.