Chapter Two #3
“Mmm, since you’re that hungry, you can help me set things up on the deck.”
“We’re really having fun doing this.” Sonya rose and put her arms around Trey as much for the hug as the kiss. “We actually started—well, after work—going through and clearing out Collin’s office so Cleo can use it.”
“That’s good.” He drew her out to the kitchen, where he got a beer for himself and one for Owen.
“I hope you think so when I tell you we have a good-sized box of papers we weren’t sure what to do with, and decided to dump it on the Doyle lawyers.”
“That’s fine. We’ll take care of it.”
“I went through the computer files. I’ll tell you about that over dinner.
It’s mostly just sweet, and Owen should hear it, too.
But I’m going to wipe the hard drive when we’re done, and we’re going to set up a kind of guest office in one of the sitting rooms. Anyone who stays here could use it if they need or want to. ”
“More fine.” Studying her, he sipped his beer. “You’ve been busy.”
“I needed busy today. And ending with the photos, and the plans for them? As Cleo so elegantly put it, it turns what Dobbs pulled last night on its ass.”
“You know what one of the apparently endless things I find most appealing about you is?”
“Oh, do tell.”
He ran a hand down the tail of her hair that reminded him of rich maple syrup.
“You always bounce back. Whatever gets tossed at you, you bounce back from it and keep going.”
“And here I thought it was my elevated sense of style and winning personality.”
“Those make the list.”
In that moment, something in the way he looked at her had her heart trembling.
Owen burst in from the deck. “Take-out containers won’t do it for her. She wants bowls and shit.”
And the moment struck him, he looked from one to the other as he pulled out serving bowls. “What?”
“Just admiring the lady.”
With the moment broken, Sonya shot out a smile. “You’ll want serving spoons. And since it’s Cleo, she’ll want some hot sauce.”
And since she knew Cleo, Sonya added cloth napkins.
While they sat on the deck in the warm evening breeze and enjoyed the feast, Sonya and Cleo filled them in on the day.
“So after I worked and Cleo created her magnificent and dreamy watercolor, we decided to tackle Collin’s office.”
“So I hear.” Owen bit into his lobster roll.
“Sonya took the desktop, I took the file drawers. Your uncle was an organized and efficient soul.”
“He was an artist, sure, but also a businessman. Pooles, by and large, tend to be organized and efficient.”
“He didn’t break that rule. Every appliance in the house, all the electronics, the water heaters, the furnaces, all filed with date of purchase, manuals. If there’d been any maintenance or repairs, it’s in there.”
“That’s just SOP.”
On a laugh, Sonya shook her head at Owen. “Cleo doesn’t keep any of that.”
“Why do I need a manual when I’m going to call somebody to fix something anyway? And if somebody fixed it, then it’s fixed. But knowing Sonya, I kept all that.”
“The computer files. Correspondence. I printed out emails I thought someone might want a record of, or just for sentiment. He had a file on me. You’re not surprised,” she said to Trey. “Did you know?”
“Figured. I knew from my father he’d kept track of you. Being he was efficient, he’d have kept a file. Does it bother you?”
“No. It gave me the feeling if I’d needed it, really needed it, he’d have stepped in to help. He added little notes here and there, and that felt … sweet. He also had a file of his annual donations, and I want to continue those. Is there a way to make them in his name?”
Touched, Trey put a hand over hers. “We can arrange that, sure.”
“Great. And all that led us to the photographs, which is where you came in.”
“I like the office,” Cleo added. “I put off using it because I didn’t know if it would feel right. But spending the time in there today, it did. And I’m better off not mixing office stuff with art. I tend to get scattered that way.”
“Really?”
Cleo gave Owen the hard eye. “Amusing.”
“If you were efficient along with everything else, you’d be perfect. Anybody who wants perfect is stupid. I’m not stupid.”
She lifted her wineglass, sipped. “And somehow, strangely romantic. In any case, we had a damn good day.”
“One door-slamming incident’s all she managed.”
“Oh, she shook the walls a little on the third floor.” Cleo waved it off like a gnat. “Weak sauce.”
“She’ll never be stronger than the two of you.” Because he believed it absolutely, Trey lifted his beer in a toast. “Meaner, but not stronger. You’re doing more to squeeze her out every day. Sitting here like this, having a good meal, dogs—and cat—in the yard. It counts.”
“Going through Collin’s office counts, too,” Owen decided. “Needs to be done. He loved that desk—who wouldn’t? Solid mahogany, custom-made for one of the Pooles—can’t remember right off, but late eighteen hundreds, near the turn of the century. Pristine condition.”
He started to take a drink, then set down his beer. “You’re keeping it, right? In the office.”
“Are you worried because it likely weighs a metric ton and we want you to move it?”
“I am,” Trey said immediately. “My back and I are definitely worried about that.”
“There’s that, but mostly, come on, man, it’s freaking magnificent. It suits the room, the purpose.”
Genuinely amused now at his passion, Cleo arched her eyebrows. “Then you’ll be pleased I feel the same. I fell for it at first sight. Now I have two magnificent desks. And this one, you don’t have to muscle up or down stairs.”
“Good. That’s good.” But he kept those green eyes on her amber ones. “And the cabinet in there. Jacobean.”
“Also staying.”
With that, he relaxed enough for another swig of beer. “That’s the right choice.”
“Look at that, will you?” Trey nodded toward the yard where the dogs, after a break to flop awhile, were up and running again. “I just saw the cat jump on Mookie’s back.”
“Hitching a ride,” Owen said with a grin. “And Mooks’s as into it as she is.”
Cleo let out a roll of laughter as she watched. “Just How about a ride, big guy. And he’s giving her one.”