Chapter One #2
It gave her something to do—and more, gave Sonya more time to smooth out.
Her friend still held a lot of anger, and Cleo was all for the mad. But Sonya also looked a bit pale yet, and her deep green eyes showed a fatigue that came from more, far more, than interrupted sleep.
She carried the load, and while the rest of them could help, did help, they couldn’t take it from her.
This helped, Cleo thought. Not just food, but the company, the routine. Trey and Sonya feeding the pets, Owen getting out plates and flatware.
Just the movement, the life—and the unity—helped.
When the oven timer dinged, Sonya walked over to take out the bacon. Trey put bread in the toaster—and watched Sonya.
Afraid she’ll break, Cleo thought as she slid the third of four omelets onto a platter and put it in the warmer.
But she won’t.
Any more than he or Owen would after witnessing a man they’d loved and respected die.
None of them would break.
When the last pat of butter she melted in the skillet began to foam, she poured in the egg-cheese-and-herb mixture.
“I think I’m going to paint out back today, do a study of the garden. The wisteria on the pergola.”
“You don’t need to stay near the house for me, Cleo.”
“I can if I want, but what I want is out back. Unless you want to blow off the day and go sail the bay in my beautiful little boat.”
“I’ve got a couple of jobs to juggle in with the Ryder Sports account. No day off for me.”
“Next weekend.”
Sonya smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Next weekend sounds good.”
With the last omelet on the platter along with bacon and toast, they sat together at the table while all four pets caught a predawn nap.
“These look amazing, Cleo.”
“You’ll convince me of that, Son, if you eat some.”
“I will. And I’m sorry I’m being such a drag on everything.”
“You’re not,” Trey objected, and deliberately lifted an omelet from the platter onto her plate.
“I feel like one. I … I’ve seen pictures, and he—Collin—was older when he died than my dad, but still, somehow, I wasn’t prepared for how much they looked alike.
It had to be worse for you and Owen, but I can’t seem to shake that part yet.
And we haven’t heard anything from Clover since right after it stopped.
She always has so much to say, and I’m worried she’s—”
As she spoke, the tablet on the kitchen counter rang out with Elton John’s “I’m Still Standing.”
When tears sprang to Sonya’s eyes, Trey reached for her.
“No, no, it’s relief. It’s exactly what I needed to hear. So are we, Clover.” Now she forked off a bite of omelet, sampled it. And when she smiled, meant it. “And this is as amazing as it looks.”
They ate while three dogs and a cat slept, while music played on the tablet. By tacit agreement, they didn’t talk about what had happened, not yet. The time would come, but for now they let that rest, too.
“You’ve got a knack, Lafayette.” Owen polished off the last of his omelet.
“I believe I do.”
“You can give your knack a break tonight. How about I pick up something from the village?” Trey asked.
“Wouldn’t hurt my feelings a bit,” Cleo told him. “More time to paint, once I decide between a moody watercolor or a dramatic oil.”
“How do you decide?” Owen wondered.
“Whim.” She slanted him a look out of her amber eyes. “I do enjoy living on a whim.”
“I’m glad you’re taking the summer to paint for yourself.” Sonya leaned back with her coffee. “And you’re going to have a big bang of a show at Bay Arts this fall.”
“We’ll see about that, but it makes me happy. When fall comes, I’ll be ready to go back to earning my living and illustrating. Oh, I forgot to tell you, I got the sweetest note from Burt Springer after I sent a copy of his granddaughter’s favorite kids’ book signed by me and the author.”
“He’s a sweet man. I really like working with him again. I don’t live or work on a whim, but freelancing is taking me to many new places. A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined running my own graphic design company.”
“And kicking ass at it.”
She grinned at Trey. “Yes, I am. I couldn’t have imagined it, or imagined living in a big, gorgeous, haunted Victorian on the coast of Maine.
Having a favorite cousin,” she added with a lift of her coffee mug to Owen.
“Or being with you, a third-generation lawyer who’ll pick up dinner and tell me I kick ass. ”
Sonya shook back her hair and sighed. “Nothing Dobbs can do changes any of that. And she’s not going to stop us. Cleo’s said it before, and it’s true. We bring the light and the life to the manor. We’re going to keep right on doing that.”
“Middle of the year’s not too soon to start planning a big, bust-out holiday party at the manor.”
Sonya pointed at Cleo. “No, it is not.”
“Man, they’re going to have us hauling around furniture again.” Owen rose. “I’m going to take off, but I’ll deal with the dishes first. Molly probably had a rough night, too.”
Cleo rose with him, then took his face with its night’s worth of stubble in her hands. Kissed him enthusiastically.
“You’re more a savory sort of man, Owen, but you got just enough sweetness in there. The sun may be up, but me? I’m going back to bed.”
“After a full breakfast and, what was it? Two cups of coffee?”
“Nothing stops Cleo from sleeping when she’s ready to sleep,” Sonya told Owen.
“Unlike my friend here, who, though it’s still shy of six in the morning, will go to work.”
“Things to do, people to please.”
From the tablet came Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash’s “Time’s a Wastin’.”
“That one ain’t about work.” On impulse, Owen grabbed Cleo, dipped her, and kissed her, also enthusiastically.
“Well, if that’s what you’ve got in mind.”
“I’ve always got that in mind, but Jones and I also have things to do and people to please.”
“Add me to that list.” Trey got up. “I’ll give Owen a hand before Mookie and I take off. I’ll grab a shower and change at my place. I’ll be back with dinner. Any requests?”
“Surprise us,” Sonya told him.
“Done.”
Now she cupped his face, looked into those deep blue eyes. “I could’ve gotten through it without you, because that’s what I need to do. But I’m really glad I didn’t have to.”
She wrapped her arms around him and held on a moment. “Really glad.” She pressed her lips to his. “I’m going to go up, pull myself together, and get to work.”
“You’ll call if you need me.”
“I will.”
“I’m going to let Yoda and Pye out for a few minutes before I go back to bed. We’ll all be up soon.”
Of course all four pets raced out when Cleo opened the door.
She stood there a moment. “Looks like a lovely day to paint en plein air. She’ll be fine,” she added, still looking out at the lawn, the garden, the woods beyond.
“She’s committed to this, and when Sonya’s committed, it takes a hell of a lot to shake her off. ”
She turned back. “It’s why she stuck with Brandon even with all her doubts about marrying him. Finding him rolling around naked with her cousin in her own bed?” Cleo snapped her fingers. “Done. She might have forgiven him if he’d been contrite, but she’d never have gone back to him.
“I’m only using that asshole as an illustration so maybe you’ll worry a little less. She not only won’t give up, but when you push Sonya into a corner? She’ll come out swinging. Last night? A mistake.”
Cleo pointed up to indicate the Gold Room and Hester Dobbs. “Her very big mistake.”
“Why is that, especially?” Owen paused as he loaded the dishwasher.
“What she did before, to the seven brides? She has to pay for that. She needs to be stopped. But that happened before. Even though Sonya went through the mirror and saw it all happen, it already happened. Last night? Last night Dobbs hurt those we’ve all come to care about. That was immediate, that was now.”
“She just needed to shake off the sad and find the mad again.”
Cleo smiled at Trey. “You know her. I’m just saying this as someone who’s known and loved her longer, she won’t break. And she won’t stop.”
“There are times that’s just what worries me.”
“She needs this house and everything in it—with one exception—as much as this house and everything in it need her. We have the light on our side, and I have to trust that.”
“Just do me a favor? Stick close today.”
“I can do that. Now, y’all let Yoda and Pye back in before you get on, will you? I’m going to go get the rest of my beauty sleep.”
As she walked out, Cleo trailed a finger over Owen’s cheek.
Watching her go, Owen shook his head. “That woman’s got me, inside and out and back again. And she’s right, Trey. Everything she said was right.”
“I know it. I’ll deal with it. You, too.”
“Yeah, me, too. Text me when you’re ready to get the food. I’ll meet you.”
When Sonya came out of a long, hot shower, she found Yoda in the bedroom. A pair of cropped leggings and a roomy T-shirt lay on the neatly made bed.
Gripping the towel around her, Sonya breathed back tears.
“Thanks, Molly. Those are just right for today.”
The young Irish housekeeper from so long ago continued to serve. More out of love than duty, Sonya not only felt but truly believed.
As Jack, the boy who’d died in the manor before his tenth birthday, came out to play with Yoda when no one was watching. And Jerome tended to yard work, Eleanor to the plants in the solarium.
Their spirits, and others she couldn’t name, continued here, as much a part of Lost Bride Manor as the wood and the glass.
She had a duty to them, and to the seven brides. To Astrid, Catherine, Marianne, Agatha, Lisbeth, Clover, Johanna. For them, even more than for herself and Cleo, she would damn well hold the manor.
It would stay Poole Manor, as it had always been.
For them, she thought as she dressed, she’d stay, she’d work, she’d fight, and she would, somehow, take back the seven stolen rings and break the curse.
If it meant waking at three a.m.—the hour when Hester Dobbs had hurled herself from the cliff wall to seal the curse—then she’d wake at three a.m. If it meant walking through the mirror again and again to witness some horror, then she’d walk through the glass.
And somehow, she’d find the way to take those rings off the fingers of a dead witch.
Though she’d yet to dry it, Sonya pulled her brown hair back in a tail. If she had a call for a virtual meeting, well, she had her emergency makeup in her desk.
As she started out, Yoda jumped up to follow her through her sitting room and down the long hallway. She saw that Cleo’s bedroom door stood open a crack. To let Pyewacket come and go as she pleased.
Because she knew her old college roommate well, she expected Cleo could likely sleep until nearly noon.
She wished she had the same talent.
Instead, she walked to the far turret and the library where she kept her office.
She glanced at her mood board, then continued to the desk that faced the wide doorway.
So quiet now, she thought as Yoda wiggled under the desk to keep her company.
She could hear the sea roll outside, had come to love the sound of it slapping against the rocks.
The morning sun streamed through the windows.
On the sill, Xena, the African violet Cleo had given her on the first day of college, thrived, its pink blooms drinking up that sunlight.
Here, in the two-level library, books and beauty and history surrounded her.
She’d been productive here, and would continue to be. She’d done good work, and couldn’t ask for more.
She had this room, this house, and all in it—and a ridiculous amount of money to live the life and do the work she wanted—because Collin Poole had chosen to give it all to his twin’s daughter.
Death had given her this life, and she couldn’t forget it.
She booted up her computer.
Emails first, read and answer. Do any updates or changes to previous work before moving into current jobs.
Then she pressed her fingers to her eyes.
“Oh God, Clover. I need to say all this, and I hope you’ll listen.
I’m so sorry for what she put you through.
I’m sorry for everyone, but especially you.
She took your life, and Charlie took his.
She stole not just your ring but all your dreams. The home you and Charlie wanted to make here.
The art he wanted to make, the gardens you wanted to plant. All the children you might have made.”
Taking a breath, Sonya steadied herself. “And last night, hearing it and seeing it and feeling it all happening at once, it twisted up in me. If none of that had happened to you, to any of you all the way back to Astrid, and forward to Johanna, I wouldn’t be here.
“I wouldn’t have this. I can’t make it all not happen, but I swear I’ll find a way to make it right. Whatever it takes, I’ll make it right for you, for all of you. You’re the reason. You’re my father’s mother. You’re my family. I’m going to make it right for my family.”
The tablet played Taylor Swift’s “Invisible String.”
Sonya dashed a tear away, vowing it would be the last shed for the day.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s right. It ties us together. All of us. And I promise you, I won’t break it. Keep playing, will you? Whatever you want. I think the music’s good for both of us.”
And settled, finally really settled, Sonya opened the first email, and got to work.