Chapter Two
Sonya took her first break when the cat wandered in, sat, stared at her.
“Time to go out? Well, when you’ve somehow housebroken a cat, you have to respect that. And I could use a caffeine boost. Let’s go, kids.”
She walked downstairs, let Yoda and Pye out the front door. Stood a moment in the gorgeous sunshine looking out to sea and the boats plying it.
She went back to the kitchen for a Coke, then stood at the back door to look across the lawn and gardens and toward the thick green woods.
And turned when she heard footsteps.
“You beat my noon estimate by just over twenty minutes. And you’re dressed and loaded up. Before coffee.”
Cleo set down her Guerrilla Box, folding easel, and stool.
“I’ve still got coffee in the system from our insanely early breakfast.”
Ready for the day in a wide-brimmed hat, cropped pants, and loose tee, Cleo filled a water bottle. “Yoda and Pye can keep me company. If they want to come back in, I’ll take care of it.”
“All right. It’s gorgeous out, so they might as well enjoy it. So, drama or dreamy?”
“I know drama’s my natural default, but I think today calls for dreamy.”
“We had our share of drama for the day already.”
“And there’s that. See you later.”
Sonya got the door for her. “Enjoy.”
“Oh, every minute.”
Sipping her Coke, Sonya watched her friend walk toward the pergola while Yoda pranced and Pye slunk over to greet her.
It looked, Sonya thought, like a perfectly peaceful spot on a perfectly peaceful day. You’d never know that vindictive viciousness existed here.
“But I know,” she murmured.
She walked through the quiet of the house, into the library, where the music played.
She sat, and opened the next file.
By midafternoon her brain started to fuzz.
“Okay, maybe I need an hour, and some fresh air.”
Since the sun shined bright, she grabbed her sunglasses and a ball cap. Not as romantically sexy as Cleo’s painting hat, she thought as she pulled her ponytail through the back, but it would do.
She went out the front and to the seawall. The wind whipped just enough to blow at her tail of hair, and to whisk the clouds from her mind. The sea rippled with that wind so the boats on it rolled, and the waves crashed like thunder on the rocks.
Far out she caught a flash, then the leap and dive of a school of dolphins.
Her life had changed, she knew, completely and inevitably, that frigid winter day in Boston when Oliver Doyle II had knocked on her door to tell her an uncle she’d never known existed had left her all this.
And more.
She wanted it more than she’d ever imagined, this great, grand old house and everything in it. Ghosts included.
She turned now to look at it, how strong it stood, how fanciful. And saw a number of windows open.
Molly, she thought with a smile, letting the fresh air in. She wasn’t alone in her deep need to tend and protect Lost Bride Manor.
She believed, strongly, one way to do that was simply to live, to do what came next.
She walked, rounding the house to where the gardens they’d planted late in spring thrived in summer. Here the wind softened to a breeze, warm and fragrant with the flowers she’d helped plant.
The cat sprawled on the roof of the Victorian doghouse—complete with turret—Owen had built for Yoda. As she walked, Yoda eased out his brindled hot-dog body, stretched. Both animals joined her as she walked back to where Cleo painted.
On canvas, twisty vines wound up and over the pergola, and dripped, a blooming fountain. Behind it, the green, green woods stood like a misty secret. Below it, spent petals scattered.
It all stood under a sky so blue and pure it all but broke the heart.
On a sigh, Sonya said, “Cleo.”
“Dreamy works.”
“It’s so lovely. It catches in my throat.”
“When the hydrangeas really get going, I’m going to do a study of them. Same method. First, one of the bed where we put the goddess. And I think some small studies of individual flowers. Anyway, nearly done. I think.”
“Breakfast was a seriously long time ago. I’m going to put a snack together.”
“I could use one of those.”
“Good. I’ll let you know when it’s together. We could snack on the deck.”
The cat and dog followed her inside and watched avidly as she put a fruit and cheese tray together.
“You’ll get yours, too.”
As she added glasses of ice and a pitcher of lemonade, a door from overhead slammed three times, like bullets.
Sonya’s phone played “Rude” by Magic!
“Yeah, she’s all that. But we won’t be bullied.”
She put a dog biscuit and a handful of cat treats on the tray, lifted it.
The door opened as she walked to it.
“Thanks.”
After she walked out, it closed gently behind her.
So much good here, she thought. So much more good than evil.
She set the tray on the table on the deck and started to call to Cleo. But Cleo was already packing her Guerrilla Box.
“Good timing. The bitch is slamming doors.”
Cleo pulled sunglasses out of her pocket as she walked to the deck. “It must kill her—metaphorically—to see us both working and enjoying it. And boy, did I.”
After setting everything down, Cleo sat, let out a long, satisfied sigh. And the sky-blue toenails peeking out of Cleo’s sandals reminded Sonya she hadn’t had a pedicure herself in too long.
“I’m going to miss illustrating by the end of the summer, and want a good, interesting, fun job. But for now, this is heaven for me.”
She reached for a cracker, loaded it with Camembert.
“Snacking on the deck on a perfect summer afternoon doesn’t suck either.”
“It does not.” Cleo lifted the glass Sonya poured. “To more of this.”
“Lots more of this.”
“It seems Jack couldn’t resist the day either.”
Sonya snapped up straight. “You saw him?”
“No, but he was out here. I had a ball wing past me, with Yoda chasing it. But when I turned around—and it took me a couple of seconds to register—nothing. But for—oh, I don’t know how long—I could hear Yoda racing around, and I heard Jack laugh. It was eerie, but at the same time…”
“It made you smile.”
“It did. And I forced myself not to look around again because he’s obviously not ready. But here’s a kid who died over a century ago out in the yard playing fetch with the dog and laughing. It says a lot about us being here.”
Sonya sampled some pepper jack. “And why we’re here. Not just me. Yeah, things happened before you moved in, before Trey and Owen spent nights here.”
“But it’s escalated since.”
“It comes and goes, but yes. She’s gotten worse, and more of the others have made themselves known. On that part, I wasn’t receptive—at all. Thought I was losing it when I’d find the bed made, dishes done, Clover’s musical interludes, all of it.”
“The portraits in the closet.”
Such a jolt, Sonya thought, sipping lemonade, and such a strange joy to find those framed portraits in the studio’s storage closet.
“Some by Collin, some painted by my dad. And we’re back to Marianne Poole now. The third bride.”
“I checked the closet when I got up. No Catherine. Yet.”
“But one day we’ll open that closet and find her. And if Owen’s right, there’ll be one more. Astrid, another painting of Astrid. The one in the foyer isn’t part of the series.”
“More than that?” Cleo plucked a raspberry. “First, Owen’s right. And part of the reason he’s right is one of them has to paint her. Your uncle or your dad, and it needs to be hung with the other six brides.”
“I know—or have to accept—we’ll find them when we’re supposed to. In the meantime, I’m thinking about doing a full-house search—which, considering the size of the place, all the closets, drawers, trunks—all of it—could take frigging years.”
“I’m in.” After selecting a small branch, Cleo nibbled on tart green grapes. “You know that. We can draft the men, so that makes four of us. What are we looking for, Son? Do you think you’ll find the rings that way?”
“No, way too easy. Add we know she’s wearing them, all seven of them. But maybe, if we do a thorough search, we’ll find…”
“A clue?”
Sonya had to laugh at herself. “It sounds very Scooby-Doo, but yeah. The house, the mirror, the residents—past and present—keep doling out pieces. Maybe we’ll find more, and maybe a way to put those pieces together.”
“I repeat, I’m in. This house is full of treasures, and every time we poke around, I find something I adore. But.”
“You’re going to be logical, aren’t you?”
“In my way. We have a houseful of people who lived and died here over a couple of centuries. And Dobbs has been collecting the rings over that time. If any of them knew how to find the rings, get them back?”
“They’d have found a way to tell us already.”
Clover went with U2 and “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.”
“It doesn’t mean we won’t,” Sonya murmured. “But yeah, you’re right, the solution’s not going to fall in my lap.”
“But we look. Something may trigger something else. In fact, I say we finish this up, then pick a room and get to it.”
Sonya looked back and up. “Which one?”
Studying the house, Cleo ate another raspberry. “I’m voting for Collin’s office. He was the last person to live and to die here, so that’s one reason. We’ve concluded his death was an accident. He didn’t die by her hand, her will, her damn black magic. That’s two.”
“I’ve gone through it some, but not deep and thorough. It feels intrusive. And that’s silly, I know.”
Cleo gave Sonya’s knee a pat. “It’s sensitive, not silly. We’ll be respectful.”
“It’s a good place to begin. Sort of starting in the more now, then working our way back. And it would give you a sense if you wanted to turn it into your office.”
“It would. So?”
“Let’s get on it.”
“I’ll take my stuff up to the studio, and meet you there.”
Sonya took the tray back in, wrapped it for later, then made her way down the main hall in her labyrinth of a house to Collin’s office.