Chapter Fourteen #2
“I still have Collin and Johanna’s. You can have it.”
“Oh, Corrine, I don’t want to take—”
“You should have it. I knew Johanna’s heart very well. She’d love what you’re doing.”
Clover spoke through Simon and Garfunkel’s “Bridge over Troubled Water.”
“We were that to each other, whenever we needed to be. So I’ll be her bridge now.”
Because she understood the bittersweet of memories and loss, Winter slipped an arm around Corrine’s waist as they continued.
By the time they’d reached the third floor, Ace gave a whew. “You can forget how big this house is. I’d say I’ve worked up that appetite.”
“My quad muscles have muscles,” Cleo claimed.
“Let’s show off your studio first.” With relief, Sonya noted the Gold Room remained quiet and still.
“I haven’t been up here in too many years to count,” Paula said. “That magnificent view, and I love how you’ve made it yours, Cleo. It’s just—”
She turned, saw the mermaid painting.
“Oh my goodness. Oh my! I’ve heard, but as Anna said, seeing … It’s magnificent. She’s magnificent.”
“Mine,” Owen said. “When can I take her?”
“Actually, now. She dried well. I’ll get her ready for the trip tomorrow.”
“About damn time.” He draped an arm over Paula’s shoulders. “You can come see her whenever you want.”
Sonya itched to check the closet, but thought of Seth. She hung back when Cleo took the group across the hall.
Only paint supplies. “Not yet.”
Trey waited in the doorway. “It hasn’t been that long since you found Marianne.”
“I know. I’m just impatient.” Taking his hand, she walked into the gift-wrapping room.
“This is brilliant.” And one hand on her baby mound, Anna turned a circle. “Absolutely brilliant. I want one.”
“I knew it.”
She laughed at Seth, squeezed his hands. “Don’t worry. Mom will help me figure it out.”
“After TBD Kate Miller.”
“Definitely.”
“This is your work.” Deuce gestured toward Sonya’s paintings. “Cleo’s right. You do minimize it.”
“I appreciate that, but—”
“No buts.” Trey spoke firmly.
“She’s her father’s child in that she inherited his talent. Just not his passion for this kind of art. You painted that one in college. I remember.”
“Cleo dug it out.”
“They’re all wonderful. That tree—you both painted it. It’s got such presence,” Corrine said, “such character. How old is that tree?”
“I’m not that old, youngster.” But Ace studied the painting. “Planted before my time. She’s a beauty.”
“Cleo’s doing the tree in each season.”
“I love that idea, but, Mom, look at this! Look how they’re using this armoire. The closet rod as a paper roll, the storage for wrapping supplies.”
“You know we don’t have one of those.”
“We could get one, Seth. Or someone could build one.”
Owen caught the look. “You know I build boats, right?”
Anna circled a hand over her baby mound. Maybe as habit, maybe as ploy.
“You can build anything. And Trey would help, wouldn’t you, Trey?”
“He doesn’t give me a choice.”
When they started down for dessert, Sonya took a last look back at the Gold Room. Still and quiet.
By the time they returned to the kitchen, the dishwasher hummed and the counters sparkled.
All Seth could say was “Holy crap. Just holy crap. That’s seriously spooky. And convenient.”
So the manor remained quiet through dessert, and while they sat together on the long summer evening as the lights twinkled on.
Sonya watched the Doyles and the Millers drive down the lane with a sense of peace. They’d given friends who were family a lovely evening.
“Best barbecue in the history of them. My girls know how to throw a party.”
“Wait until the holidays.” Sonya hugged her mother. “You have to promise to come for Christmas.”
“That’s a promise I’m happy to give, and keep. And now I’m going up to luxuriate in my beautiful room. Pancake breakfast, ten o’clock. Good night, all.”
“The rest of us should have a last drink out front.” Cleo gestured. “I still need to unwind.”
“I’ll get them,” Trey told her. “Go start unwinding.”
The dogs raced out, and the cat meandered to leap onto the stone wall and look out at the moonlit sea.
As Sonya sat, she considered it the perfect end to a perfect day.
That night, she didn’t wake at three, and slept dreamless. She didn’t wake until nearly nine, and woke alone. No Trey, no dogs.
She quelled the desperate urge for coffee long enough for a rapid-fire shower.
She heard her mother’s voice, and Trey’s, and Owen’s, as she approached the kitchen.
“I know Sonya doesn’t tell me everything that goes on here. And maybe downplays some that she does. I understand why, and I’m doing my best to respect that. I also know she and Cleo are strong, smart women. But I need to know the two of you are looking out for them.”
“You can count on that,” Trey told her.
“It’s more than strong and smart,” Owen added. “There’s a lot here that’s on their side.”
“I’m holding on to that, too. I wonder if the both of you have considered moving in—I mean all the way—at least temporarily.”
“Mom!”
Winter winced, and went back to mixing her batter. “I’m sorry, baby. And part of me is standing here appalled I sound like I’m saying a woman needs a man to protect her. That’s not it. It’s the safety in numbers.” She shook her head. “It’s mostly that anyway.”
“Trey and Owen both have work, just like Cleo and I do. And they’re here, adding to our numbers, as much as they can be.”
“We’ve got voices,” Trey pointed out. “And I’ll use mine to say we’re here to look out for you.”
“I don’t—”
“And you look out for us,” he interrupted. “That’s how it works. That’s the deal, Sonya.”
“That’s not what she meant.”
“That’s what I heard,” Owen corrected. “Relax on it, cousin. We’re in this together. We’re not just here for the sex and free meals. Though they weigh heavy on the scale.”
Trey had to laugh. “That’s one way to put it. What Owen’s saying is we’re here for all of it. For you and Cleo, for the brides, for Collin. For the manor. And if it wasn’t for that other weight, we’d still be here.”
“I’m happy bearing that weight, but one way or another, we’re all in.”
Sonya gave up. “I need coffee.”
“I worry,” Winter told her. “Not every minute of every day, but I worry. When you have your own, you’ll know worry’s part of the package. And like the love, it never goes away.”
Winter gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Get your coffee.”
Trey waited until she’d taken the first couple of sips, then went to her, kissed her. “Good morning.”
She studied him. “Do you ever lose in court?”
“Unfortunately.”
“I don’t see how.”
Before Winter left that afternoon, Sonya asked her to take a walk with her outside.
“Am I in for a scolding?” Winter asked.
“No.”
“Good, because that remains my job.”
Sonya let out a laugh. “When’s the last time you scolded me?”
“Memory fails. It’s been a while. So, say what you need to. I’m here to listen.”
“I know that. And what I have to say? First, I hate that you worry at all. Part of the daughter package.”
“Understood.”
“It’s also understood you do, you would, even without all of this.
” She waved her hand back at the house. “And you’re not wrong I downplay some of it, but I want you to know, to be absolutely secure in knowing, Dobbs isn’t going to win.
I’m not going to let her. She has weaknesses, and I’m starting to figure them out. I can use them. I have used them.”
“It’s still so hard for me to comprehend what she is, how she is.”
“And I think that may be one of the reasons why she’s lasted so long.”
Winter glanced at the house. “Who wants to believe in the ghost of an evil witch? Who would unless they had to face her?”
“But I have, and I comprehend fine now, Mom. So does Cleo, so do all of us. I want you to remember a little boy who died so long ago drew us the picture that’s on the fridge.”
“It’s adorable,” Winter murmured.
“It is. Remember that Clover looks out for us, too. And there’s Molly and the rest. I know more are with us than I can name. We’re putting a centuries-old puzzle together, and that takes time. But we’re doing it.”
“You were always good at puzzles.”
“The other thing I need you to know is I’m ridiculously happy here. I know, in my gut, this is my place. This is my house. I’m here for those seven women, for Collin, and for Dad, too. And I’m here for myself. You taught me, you and Dad, to stand up to a bully, for myself and anyone else.”
“We did.” Winter touched Sonya’s cheek. “And did a damn good job.”
“You did, and that’s what I’m doing. I’m standing up to a bully.”
“I’m still going to worry. But maybe I’ll worry a little less.”
“That’s good enough.”
“I should get on the road.” She pulled Sonya in for a tight hug. “And I miss you already.”
“Maybe sometime you could stay a little longer.”
“I’m saving vacation time for the holidays. For your holiday bash, for Christmas to New Year’s Day if my room’s available.”
“Really?” Simply thrilled, Sonya threw her arms around Winter again. “That would be so great.”
“And since I will worry some, I’m inviting myself to Thanksgiving. Whether you have it here or, I suspect, at the Doyles’, I’m coming.”
“You know how much I love that. I love you.”
“I do, and I do. Come on. Let’s get one of the strong and strapping to bring down my suitcase.”
“And you’re taking home some leftovers. No cooking tonight.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
Arm in arm, they started back to the house.
The week started rainy, and stayed that way. Sonya didn’t mind a few days of the gloomy and the wet, and figured the gardens would drink it up. Now and again, the wind rose up to whip the rain against the windows, adding patter and drum sound effects.
She didn’t mind that either.
She missed her walks, but the view through the library windows of lush green grass and stormy seas made up for them.
And she had the gym. After months of using the space and equipment, she’d learned to block out the ringing bell, the occasional banging, even the quick wash of cold air.
Yoda didn’t appear to mind the wet either, as he’d race around outside, roll in the soaked grass while the cat slunk out, did what she had to do, and slunk back in again.
While she worked at her desk, she’d hear the ball bouncing, Yoda’s scrambling. And to her pleasure, she might hear Jack’s voice.
Good catch!
By midweek, with fewer distractions, she’d caught up on everything work-related.
She stood at the library windows, looking out at the roll and the toss of the sea as Clover played “Here Comes the Rain Again.”
Those who predicted such things said the weather would break by late afternoon. And those forecasters promised a clear, bright day to follow.
So she’d designate that for a trip to the village. Make a hair appointment—it was time. Visit the shops, and her village clients, indulge in some shopping.
Still watching the sea, she pulled out her phone, called the salon.
With that done, no work to pull her in, Cleo tucked into her studio, she considered her choices for the rest of a rainy day.
She could curl up and read. She could give herself a facial, stretch out, and stream a movie. Or she could go up and make some headway in the ballroom.
She loved the idea of somehow clearing it out, making it shine, and holding a big bash of a holiday party. Why have a ballroom if you never had a ball?
Holiday Ball at the Manor.
Go fancy and festive. Like her mother, Collin had stowed enough holiday decorations to outfit a small town. They’d go through all that, pick and choose, get more. Hire Bree—absolutely—to coordinate, and Rock Hard to play.
Months ahead yet, and she didn’t want to rush what was left of summer, but it would take months. And no amount of planning mattered if the ballroom remained crowded with stored furniture.
Decision made, she thought, and texted Cleo.
My desk is clear. I’m going up to the ballroom to see what I can do.
I need about a half hour, then I’ll come give you a hand.
Sonya acknowledged with a thumbs-up.
At the top of the stairs she paused, and so did the bounce of the ball.
“I’m going to the ballroom. Just letting you know.”
At the third floor, she glanced down. All quiet in the Gold Room, and she refused to think: Too quiet. Nothing but the sound of the drumming rain.
Instead, she wondered if Cleo worked on the painting she kept under wraps.
To cut the gloom, she turned on all the lights, then maneuvered through to throw open the ballroom’s terrace doors.
Somewhere in the mass of storage they’d find furniture Owen deemed suitable for the outdoor space. And for the holidays, maybe a couple Christmas trees in pots. Or—
She rolled her eyes at herself.
“Stop it. If you don’t deal with what is, you can’t get to what could be.”
But she stood a moment longer, looking out at the gardens, the blooms heavy-headed with rain. The trees, deep and green, swayed in the wind like dancers.
It felt as if the world filled with their whoosh, the drumming rain, and the pound of the sea.
She breathed in the air, thick, wet, warm.
No, she didn’t want to hurry the last weeks of summer.
She turned back, metaphorically rolled up her sleeves. She studied the forest of white drapes, like ghosts themselves.
“All right. Pick a spot. Get started.”
With booms like cannon fire, the doors behind her slammed shut. The doors ahead of her slammed shut.
And the lights went off.