Read Online That Night on Thistle Lane by Carla Neggers - Free Book Online Page A

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 freestanding 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.
    The only thing that seemed to be missing for a fully equipped sewing room was an actual sewing machine.
    Phoebe had done a quick survey of the contents of the room and discovered the Hollywood-inspired and period dresses in two matching cedar-lined trunks and several hanging garment bags. Leaving everything undisturbed, she’d replaced the tin closets in front of the door and decided to