Chapter Twelve
Due to busy summer schedules, Sonya set the first Saturday in August for her family barbecue.
“That’s actually better,” Cleo decided. “It gives us time to come up with a menu.”
“I figured burgers and dogs.”
The manor chef looked appalled. “Absolutely not! We can do lots better. Think casual elegance.”
“Casual-casual was my aim.”
“Aim higher. Trey’s whole family’s coming, and your mama’s driving up from Boston for the weekend.”
“I’m excited about Mom coming, and worried.”
“We’re not going to worry.” Cleo sat back in her office chair, pleased with the space, and thrilled she’d finished using it for the evening. “Just like with our open house, people, happy people, lots of light.”
“I keep waiting for the light to go on in here.” Sonya tapped the side of her head. “And I’ll say, Well, yeah, that’s it. That’s what I have to do to get the rings, kick Dobbs out, and all’s right with our world.”
“It’ll happen when it happens. Right now, I’m pretty happy in our world. We’ll be back upstairs tomorrow, doing our search for clues. It makes me feel like Daphne.”
“I thought I was Daphne.”
“You’re definitely Velma—brainier. I guess since he’s a lawyer, I’d have to cast Trey as Fred in our Scooby Gang.”
“So Owen’s Shaggy?”
Thinking, Cleo pursed her lips. “Doesn’t quite fit, does it? Sonya, I didn’t expect it to fit either, but I’m in love with him.”
“You’re in love with Shaggy?”
On a laugh, Cleo brushed a hand over her hair. “With Owen.”
“I knew what you meant, and also knew that.”
“Sonya, I mean all-caps love. I mean the-man-could-break-my-heart love, looking-ahead-to-having-his-babies love.”
She’d known Cleo to be in lowercase love, but all-caps love meant the real deal. “Oh.”
“I thought we’d just enjoy each other. Serious, but not too. It’s been a thousand little things, and a bunch of big ones. The way he held Pye when she was hurt? Well, that just tied it up in a big, shiny bow.”
“He’s a really good man, Cleo. He wouldn’t be my favorite cousin otherwise.”
“I’ve asked myself if it’s just because we’re all in this situation together—the intensity, the proximity. But it’s not.” She lifted her hands, let them fall. “So I’m stuck.”
“In the it’s-all-about-me arena?” Sonya tapped a finger on her chest. “My best friend, my favorite cousin? I love it. Aside from that? You’re good together, Cleo. From where I stand, you really fit. So, is it a problem?”
Cleo hunched her shoulders. “I don’t know yet. On the practical side, I met him like five minutes ago. But I’m the first one to say love’s not practical. The way you feel about Trey’s not practical.”
“Not even close.”
“You know he loves you, Son. I swear, it’s all over him.”
“I think that. I feel that. We haven’t said the word yet, and that word matters. But … If we’re going by your time frame, I met him about six minutes ago. And he’s a careful sort of man. Deliberate. I like that about him.”
“Any reason you can’t say the word first?”
“No. And yet?” She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t. I guess I’m being careful and deliberate, too, about this.”
“Because you want it to work, be right. I’m in the same place. So here we are, two smart, capable women. Stuck.
“It’s not so bad being stuck.”
“Sometimes it feels like—”
“Fate,” Cleo finished. “And who am I to argue with fate?”
Yoda scrambled up with a bark and ran out.
“Speaking of fate, that must be the who and what of ours.” Cleo pushed up. “They’re running a little later than usual.”
To make sure, they went to the door. Yoda streaked out, Pye slinked, and two trucks pulled up.
“I’m glad we talked about this between us.” Sonya slid an arm around Cleo’s waist. “It makes me feel more centered.”
“Right there with you.”
“There’s something in the back of Owen’s truck,” Sonya noted as Trey got out of his, and Mookie leaped after him. “Oh, oh, Cleo, I think it’s the seats for the front yard!”
“See that?” Cleo shook her head. “One more thing.”
They hurried over as Owen let down his tailgate.
“What! You made two of them!”
He shrugged at Sonya. “Do the math. Four of us, two two-seaters.”
“With the table between on each, and the weeper tree carving on the back. Owen, they’re beautiful.”
“Took a while,” he said as he and Trey maneuvered the first one out. “With actual work to do in there.”
“Worth the wait.”
“Speaking of weight,” Trey said, “they’ve got it. Where do you want them?”
“And be specific,” Owen added.
“Okay, okay, over here.” Sonya gestured vaguely, then hurried ahead with Cleo. “Two of them. Do we want them centered? I think we want them centered.”
“With maybe a foot between. Eighteen inches max.”
“Here! Right here. No,” Sonya said and made both men give her a hard eye. “Just a scooch left.”
“Define scooch,” Owen demanded.
“Center the table here. Oh, that’s wonderful. Even better than I imagined.”
“I’m the one who said black locust, knowing it’s a bitch to work with.”
“There was a lot of cursing,” Trey added. “I don’t believe wood could actually do to itself some of what was suggested.”
“Lost count of how many times I had to sharpen blades. But.” Owen shrugged again. “They turned out. Let’s get the other one.”
“See that?” Cleo muttered. “He builds something like this, complains about it, then shrugs it off. He’s perfect for me. What am I supposed to do? I’ll get the beer.”
Sonya stood and danced on the second spot. “Here. Right here. I can’t believe you did two, and they’re magnificent.”
“They’ll go a little more russet with age, and they’ll last. Your great-grandkids will sit on them.”
“So much what I wanted.” Sonya ran a hand over the wide arch. “More than. The center table’s genius. Thank you!”
She threw her arms around Owen and squeezed. “And you.” Then Trey. “Slave labor. I have to sit! Try it out.”
When she had, she butt-wiggled in, then sighed. “Yes! You said they’d be comfortable. Roomy, too. And the view.”
“Be better with a beer.”
Sonya just beamed at Owen. “Cleo’s getting them.”
As she spoke, Cleo came out with a tray. Two beers, two glasses of wine.
“Exactly right,” she said as she set the tray on one of the tables. “An ideal spot for watching the sun rise. Not that I plan on doing that.”
“Sit! Everybody, sit!”
As Trey handed Sonya a glass, the Gold Room window opened, slammed shut, opened, slammed shut. On the third time, it stayed shut.
“She hates this. Hates we’re adding things to the manor, hates we’re happy, hates we’re here.” She lifted her glass. “So here’s to doing all of that.”
“I brought you my grandfather’s BB gun.”
She nearly choked on the wine. “You brought me a gun?”
“A BB gun,” Trey repeated. “It’s old, obviously, but he kept it in good shape. It works. You could take it with you when you walk around. Something comes out of that window. You shoot.”
“You want me to shoot Dobbs’s evil bird? I’ve never shot a gun in my life.”
“BB gun,” he said again. “Not that they’re toys, and should never have been. I’ll show you how it works. The bird’s a big target.”
“We thought of getting you a slingshot for more of Cleo’s magic rocks, but this seemed better. Point,” Owen said, “pull the trigger. How about you, Lafayette? Can you handle a BB gun?”
“Pistol or rifle? My daddy had an old Red Ryder air rifle. We had to swear not to aim at anything but paper targets and tin cans.”
“This is a pistol,” Trey told her.
“I haven’t shot a gun of any kind in a long while, but I do believe I remember how.”
“I don’t like the idea of having any sort of gun in the house.”
“It’s a just-in-case thing,” Trey told her. “You could keep it in a closet, only take it with you when you walk around outside. Out here anyway.”
He put a hand over hers. “She’s practicing.
Jones got a piece of her dress, you hit her with a rock, the cat hurt her flying monster.
We can hurt her, and it. This is one way to do that from a distance.
If she sends something after you, or them,” he added, with a gesture to the pets, “you can hurt it.”
“How about I keep it in the garden shed, in case. And I keep carrying one of the hag stones in my pocket when I walk?”
“She’s got a good arm,” Cleo put in. “Sad to say, better than mine. I’ll take the air pistol. We’ll keep it on the top shelf in the turret sitting room closet.”
“That’ll work.”
He said nothing more about it until they were alone in her room with their dogs already settled for the night.
“I know the idea of bringing the air gun upset you.”
“It more took me by surprise. I never thought of anything like that. It doesn’t upset me as much as it makes me nervous. I’ve seen the movie,” she added, trying to keep it light. “You could put your eye out with that.”
He smiled, stroked her cheek. “Which is why you practice, use all the safety precautions. But start with the rock in your pocket.”
“Rocks don’t make me nervous.” She studied him as she took off her shirt. “You’re worried about me, but you should remember just what you said before dinner. Jones got a piece of her, I hurt her, Pye hurt her big, scary bird.”
“Which is one of the reasons I worry. You said it pisses her off we’re here—you’re here—adding things. Basically, living your life. If that pisses her off, Sonya, how much more does it that you hurt her?”
“Point taken.” When he pulled off his shirt, she moved to him, pressed her hands to his chest. Spread her fingers.
“I think, honestly think, we’re getting closer to the answers.
I don’t think she can know or understand that.
She doesn’t believe her curse can be broken.
She’s too full of herself to believe that.
So I’m still an annoyance, a nuisance. I haven’t graduated to competitor or enemy. Yet.”
“You think you will.”
“I don’t know.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “I think about it. What’s the sense of time for her? How long have I been here, in her sense? She jumps to her death every night. Does that start the clock again, for her?”
“That’s a theory.”