Chapter Nineteen
As dinner prep got underway, Owen arrived with a bakery box. After a perfunctory greeting to Yoda, Jones collapsed under the table.
“He had a long day,” Owen said. “I took him to work with me. Tour group, lots of kids. Being admired and fawned over gets tiring.” He set down the box. “Chocolate chunk cookies.”
He hooked an arm around Cleo’s waist, yanked her in for a kiss. “What’s cooking?”
“Grilled pork chops, smashed potatoes, and sesame green beans. We’ll wait to start the grill until Trey gets here.”
“Okay. I’ll feed the horde when the Mooks shows up.”
“I didn’t know you did tours at Poole’s.”
He glanced over at Sonya as he got a beer. “Yeah, a few times a year. It’s good PR. We do a couple days of them during the school year for students. Kids are a little scary.” He downed some beer. “In a good way.”
“What’s good-way scary?”
“They ask a crapload of questions, and man, are the little guys literal. Like why doesn’t the boat sink when people get in it?”
“Why doesn’t a boat sink with people on it?”
“If you were serious about that, I’d go into buoyancy, floatation, displacement. But your average eight-year-old doesn’t want the science.”
“So what do you tell them?” Cleo asked.
“Even with people or cargo on it, it weighs less than the water it’s on, and we build them to keep the water out, and the air—and people—in. That usually does it.”
“When it doesn’t?”
“You start talking about buoyancy, floatation, displacement until your average eight-year-old’s eyes glaze over, and you’ve done your job.”
Yoda let out a trio of barks, raced out of the kitchen. Jones gave a grunt, then went back to his nap. Pye, apparently wise to routine, sauntered over to the back door.
“I’ll feed them, start the grill. Hey, Yoda, this way. Come on, Jones, pull it together.”
Minutes later, Sonya saw Mookie, tail wagging, ears flapping, run to the backyard. Yoda greeted him as if they’d been parted for centuries.
Then Trey, T-shirt, jeans, high-tops. As all that thick raven-black hair was windblown, she decided he’d had his truck windows open on the drive from the office.
She watched him and Owen exchange a few words. Owen passed him the beer, and when Trey took a swig before handing it back, Sonya got another out of the fridge.
“Trey looks a little frazzled. He rarely does.”
When he came in, she held out the beer. “You look like you could use this.”
“Could. Thanks. Hi.” He leaned down to kiss her.
“Trouble?” she asked.
“Hmm. No. End of day, hysterical client. This happens.”
“Why don’t you sit down?”
“I’m good. Grilling? I can set things up on the deck.”
“Sit down a minute,” she repeated.
His eyes sharpened. “Trouble?”
“No. But I want to show you something.”
She picked up the manilla envelope she’d prepared, handed it to him. “It’s for Deuce, but you should see it first.”
“All right.”
No more questions, Sonya thought. He simply slid onto a stool and opened the envelope.
She’d put the drawing on top so it was the first thing he saw when he pulled out the papers.
He stared at it for a long moment, then lifted his gaze to hers. His heart lived in his eyes.
“You didn’t draw this from a photo you found.”
“No.”
“You saw this? Them?”
“Yes.”
“The mirror?”
“No. The way it was with Astrid in the parlor, Lissy in the music room. That way.”
“Horde fed,” Owen said as he came in. “Grill’s on. What you got?” He stepped over, looked over Trey’s shoulder.
“That’s … that’s Collin and Deuce? Young. I mean, Collin’s even younger than that time I saw him. It’s a hell of a good drawing. And majorly cool.”
He put a hand on Trey’s shoulder as he spoke.
The connection, Sonya thought. Another set of lifelong friends. Thick and thin, as Collin had said, always.
Was it happenstance or fate, she wondered, that the two men here had come from the same bloodlines as the two men who’d played chess on a snowy night?
“Deuce will love it.”
“I wrote it all out, as much detail as I could remember. I heard them talking. Well, I heard voices and followed them, and Bon Jovi, to the den.”
And with no more questions, Trey set the drawing aside to read. When Owen did the same over his shoulder, Sonya left them to it to help Cleo. The kitchen fell quiet until Trey stacked the pages.
Clover filled the gap with Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend.”
“Yeah, they were that to each other. He spoke to you, you spoke to each other.”
“I got a chance to thank him. And a chance to see, in those few minutes, who he was. You can be told, but it’s different when you can see for yourself.”
“And he added to Dobbs and her bitch quotient,” Owen added. “It’s not enough to kill those seven women. Collin knows Johanna’s here, but he can’t see her, be with her. Same with the others.”
“The portraits, the ones you’ve found. He told you they matter in all this.”
“But not how, Trey. He just doesn’t know.”
“Painted in dreams. But your father’s not here, Sonya.”
“No. He’s—at least part of him is in the house in Boston. My mother believes that. It’s why she’ll never move.”
“But he came here,” Owen pointed out. “We saw that for ourselves.”
“Twin bond.” Cleo spoke for the first time. “It’s strong and it’s real. Maybe they came through the mirror. Maybe they painted the portraits before they died, or after. Either way, they weren’t revealed until now.”
“Because now’s the time,” Owen finished. “And time’s part of it. Could be they’ve been kept in another time. Weirder things have happened here.”
“Five down. Or rather up,” Sonya corrected. “Two to go.”
“You have more pieces here.” Trey tapped the papers. “If we believe Collin, and why wouldn’t we, the portraits are part of the solution. And you hanging them in that room, on that wall, which it turns out will hold the series of seven perfectly? Not just a matter of honor and respect.”
“That’s right. That’s good!” Nodding at Trey, Cleo continued to use a fork to more or less smash the potatoes she’d boiled. “You can believe everything happens for a reason or not, but that did. That happened for a reason.”
“But I look at them, and I don’t see the reason.”
“Two to go,” Cleo reminded her. “Then we will.”
“I’m actually feeling fairly positive. Seeing them together—your dad, Trey, and Collin—just that warm, easy friendship. Brothers, really. That’s a big positive.”
“You captured that.” Trey lifted the sketch again. “You didn’t sign it.”
“Oh, it’s just a memento.”
“It’s art. It’s a gift. Yours, and one you used to give a gift. Sign it.”
“Don’t be a dumbass,” Owen added.
“Fine, sure. You build art,” she added with a scowl at Owen. “I don’t see you signing it.”
“I put my mark on everything I build.”
“I—really? Where?”
“Different places.” He gave a typical Owen shrug. “Depends.”
“Yoda’s house?”
“Ah.” He had to think about it. “Inside the turret. How long for those?” he asked Cleo when she slid the baking sheet of potatoes drizzled with butter, sprinkled with spices, in the oven.
“This size? About a half hour.”
“I’ll handle the chops.”
“I’ll set us up.” Rising, Trey pulled Sonya in, held her close. “Thank you. This means a lot, not just to my dad, but the whole family.”
He drew her back, tapped her chin with his finger. “Sign it.”
After dinner in the garden, they enjoyed cookies on the front lawn as the first stars began to twinkle over the sea.
“It never gets old. The view, the sound. I’ll miss sitting here when winter drops down.” Sonya leaned around Trey. “Where’s your mark on this, Owen?”
“You’re sitting on it. Or it’s underneath the seat where you’re sitting.”
“Why not where people can easily see it?”
“Then it wouldn’t be mysterious. Trey had this brand made for me one Christmas. My initials—sign documents, you end up signing your initials everywhere. He took that and had it replicated inside the shape of Maine on a woodworking brand. Pretty cool.”
“That is cool.”
“I’m a cool guy,” Trey said.
“Obviously. Speaking of Christmas—”
“Not yet.”
Laughing, Sonya patted Trey’s thigh. “Only that I need to get down there and go through Collin’s decorations. It looks like enough to decorate the village.”
“That’s a fact.”
“Since my mother has the same addiction, I’m used to it.”
“Before you get any ideas,” Owen said lazily, “Collin hired a crew.”
“Then we’ll do that. But we want our hand in, too. Right, Cleo?”
“Hundred percent. But before Christmas comes my favorite holiday.”
“Halloween. Plenty down in storage for that, as well.”
“And considering all, the manor needs to dress for Samhain. We should be able to handle that ourselves.
“It’s really cooling off now,” she added with a little shiver, “and this southern girl’s heading for the warm.”
“You’re right about the cooling off. I’m for inside, and I want to check the closet again.”
“We might as well all go.”
Cleo shot Owen a look of approval. “There’s that positive. Four of us, four times the positive.”
“I know you check every day, Cleo,” Sonya said as they started in. “And I looked after I saw Deuce and Collin. I don’t know how positive I am, except I’m positive I want it to be there.”
“Wishes don’t come true unless you wish.”
When they went in, started for the stairs, Mookie and Yoda raced up ahead like runners off the mark. The cat slinked between Cleo and Owen and bounded after while Jones restrained himself, staying at Owen’s heel, and heard the hum before they reached the landing.
“She does that a lot lately,” Cleo told them. “Just that low hum.”
“She slammed some furniture around when I was up here earlier.” As it had become instinct, Sonya closed her hand around the stone in her pocket.
“All right now.” Cleo held up both hands as they turned into her studio. “Four minds, one positive thought. Sonya, open the door.”
“One positive thought,” she repeated, and opened the door. “Oh Jesus! It worked.”