That Night on Thistle Lane. Carla Neggers
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More than just make-believe
Librarian Phoebe O’Dunn deals in stories, but her passion for history has taught her that happy endings are rare. Her life in Knights Bridge, Massachusetts, is safe and uneventful…until she discovers the hidden room.
Among its secrets is a cache of vintage clothing, including a spectacular gown—perfect for a gala masquerade in Boston. In the guise of a princess, Phoebe is captivated by a handsome swashbuckler who’s also adopted a more daring persona. Noah Kendrick’s wealth has made him wary, especially of women: everybody wants something.
When Noah and Phoebe meet again in Knights Bridge, at first neither recognizes the other. And neither one is sure they can trust the magic of the night they shared—until an unexpected threat prompts them to unmask their truest selves.
After all, it takes more than just the right costume to live out your personal fairy tale. It takes heart…and the courage to be more than you ever dreamed.
Praise for
and her novels
“[A] beautifully described tale that rewards readers with an intriguing mystery as well as a deliciously satisfying romance.”
—Library Journal on Secrets of the Lost Summer
“Neggers captures readers’ attention with her usual flair and brilliance and gives us a romance, a mystery and a lesson in history.”
—Top Pick, RT Book Reviews on Secrets of the Lost Summer
“Only a writer as gifted as Carla Neggers could use so few words to convey so much action and emotional depth.”
—Sandra Brown
“With a great plot and excellent character development, Neggers’ thriller, Saint’s Gate, the first in a new series, is a fast-paced, action-packed tale of romantic suspense that will appeal to fans of Lisa Jackson and Lisa Gardner.”
—Library Journal
“Saint’s Gate is the best book yet from a writer at the absolute top of her craft.”
—Providence Journal
“Cold Pursuit is the perfect name for this riveting read. Neggers’ passages are so descriptive that one almost finds one’s teeth chattering from fear and anticipation.”
—Bookreporter.com
“[Neggers] forces her characters to confront issues of humanity, integrity and the multifaceted aspects of love without slowing the ever-quickening pace.”
—Publishers Weekly
That Night on
Thistle Lane
Carla
Neggers
To my three sisters, Bonnie, Hilda and Gretchen—nothing like jumping into a cold brook on a hot summer day!
Contents
One
Bumblebees hummed in the frothy catmint on the edge of the stone terrace, the only sound to disturb the hot New England summer afternoon. Phoebe O’Dunn watched a solo bee hover above a purple blossom, as if debating what to do, then dart past the green-painted bench where she was seated and disappear across the herb and flower gardens. None of its fellow bumblebees followed.
Phoebe had met on the terrace with her sister Maggie and her friend Olivia Frost to discuss the upcoming vintage fashion show at their small-town library, but inevitably talk had turned to the charity masquerade ball tomorrow night in Boston, two hours away. Maggie and Olivia were going. Phoebe wasn’t, but she just might be able to help with costumes.
The dresses would be perfect.
If she’d had any doubts, they’d been dispelled when Maggie and Olivia sank into their chairs at the round, natural-wood table across the terrace and said they were stumped. With just twenty-four hours before they had to leave Knights Bridge for Boston, they had no idea what to wear.
Phoebe did. She’d already had the dresses cleaned and now they were hanging in the back room at her little house on Thistle Lane, just off the Knights Bridge common. She hadn’t mentioned them yet because—well, she didn’t know why, except that she couldn’t help feeling as if she were handling someone else’s secrets. She’d discovered the dresses two weeks ago in a mysterious hidden room in the library attic. So far she hadn’t told anyone about them or the room.
“We should have figured this out sooner,” Maggie said from the shaded table. Like Phoebe, Maggie had wild strawberry-blond hair, hers a tone darker and four inches shorter. And they had freckles. Lots of freckles, Maggie especially.
“Dylan didn’t give us much notice,” Olivia said without a hint of criticism. Her fiancé, Dylan McCaffrey, had purchased tickets to the masquerade ball to support the cause, a neonatal intensive care unit at a Boston hospital. He’d handed them to Olivia just before he and several friends took off to the White Mountains for a few days of hiking. She added with a sigh, “I’ve never