Chapter Twenty-Two
Sonya and Cleo waited a couple of days to give the new family time to settle in. When they paid their visit, bearing gifts, Corrine opened the door.
“Perfect timing. Seth’s just changing the baby so she’s fed and fresh for company. They’re all back in the great room.”
“How’s everyone doing?” Sonya asked.
“Amazing, honestly. Kate and I take shifts, but they barely need us.”
“And how about you, Nana?”
Corrine beamed at Cleo as they walked. “I’ll tell you, you think you’ll never experience that breathless sunburst of love you feel when, a new mother, you hold your child the first time. But you do.”
When they walked into the great room, Seth held the baby while Anna sat on the couch folding impossibly small socks.
“I don’t care what they say, Anna, she’s smiling at me.”
“Because she loves her daddy. It says so right on her outfit,” Anna pointed out.
In addition to the little pink hat and socks, Fiona wore a white onesie with the sentiment I LOVE MY DADDY inside a pink heart.
“Daddy needs to share,” Cleo proclaimed, and walked to him.
Lighting up, Anna pushed herself off the couch. “Oh, I’m so glad you came! We’ve been waiting to show her off.”
“Wait no more. Can I hold her? Please?” Cleo held out her arms.
“You have to be really careful to support her head.”
“This ain’t my first precious, Daddy.”
“Cleo’s a baby magnet,” Sonya told them.
“It’s true. I am.”
Sonya walked around the couch, set down the basket, then hugged Anna. “You look amazing.”
“Sleep-deprived, foggy-brained, and loving it.”
Cradling the baby, swaying, Cleo didn’t even glance up. “Of course you are. She’s perfect. Excellent work, team.” She brushed a light kiss over the baby’s forehead. “And we adore each other already, don’t we, Fiona Kate Miller?”
“I need a turn.”
“In a minute. We’re reminiscing.”
Watching them like a hawk, Seth frowned. “You know, it sort of looks like they are. She’s looking right at you.”
“To my way of thinking, we’ve all been around before.”
“That should be spooky.” He considered. “But it’s kind of sweet.”
“Just think of it as continuity. All right, your turn, but only because I love you, too.”
“Oh.” With the baby in her arms, Sonya stroked a finger down one silky cheek.
“She’s just … wow. And look at these long legs!
” Then she laughed, glanced at Seth. “She does smile. Don’t listen to anyone who says different.
She has a beautiful smile. And I hereby vow there will always be cookies at the manor. ”
Sonya lowered her head for a kiss of her own.
“She’s going to sleep. Just like that! She’s sleeping.”
“We’re going to take advantage of that, since she’s proven she prefers awake. I’ll put her down.”
Anna took the baby, settled her in the bassinet by the couch.
“And while she’s sleeping, there’s iced tea and shortbread cookies.” Corrine gestured toward the banquette. “Mine are nearly as good as Anna’s.”
“They’re wonderful. Fiona has the most wonderful grandparents in the history of grandparents.” Anna walked over to hug her mother.
“I can confirm that,” Seth said. “They cook, they do laundry, run errands, give us some nap time when we need it. They taught us the essential three s’s.”
“Swaddle, sway, and shh.”
Corrine grinned at Cleo. “You have been around before. Let’s sit down.”
Sonya detoured to pick up the basket. “Some welcome-home gifts from the manor.”
“I’m going to say you didn’t have to do that, which you already know. And add, we love presents. Seth, Mom, look! A plush pink dragon. Oh, and a onesie with pink dragons.”
“The sisters of Baby Mine tell me you can never have too many onesies.”
“They’re not wrong.”
When Anna reached for the wrapped package in the basket, Cleo tapped her hand. “That’s the finale.”
She oohed her way through the basket.
“This is all so thoughtful, so soft, charming, sweet. I can’t even imagine the finale.”
Grinning, she rubbed her hands together, then unwrapped the box. She lifted the lid, removed the padding.
Then her eyes filled. Shaking her head, she reached for Seth’s hand on one side, her mother’s on the other.
“I … can’t. I can’t even … Seth.”
“Not sure I can either.” As carefully as he’d held his daughter, he lifted out the double frame with its pastels of the newborn, and the facing one of the new family.
“This is … it’s a treasure. I can look at these, and I feel exactly the way I did when … It’s a treasure.”
“We wanted to do something that captured the moment,” Cleo told them, “and with the softness, the sweetness of that moment. So we worked on them together.”
“We did have wonderful subjects to work with,” Sonya added as Corrine pulled out tissues for her daughter and herself, then a third for Seth. “Couldn’t go wrong.”
“A treasure, just as Seth said.” Corrine took a long breath. “The treasure of that beautiful new life, the treasure of a new family just begun, and the treasure of good friends who understand.”
September held on to summer, but Sonya felt fall pushing it aside. Not just by the cooler, longer nights, but the tonal change of the light.
For now, the leaves stayed lush and green with only a hint or two of the color to come. But they basked in light that took on a golden hue. Even working at her desk, she sensed it in the way the sun slanted through the windows.
Determined to continue with her quest, she carved out a few hours during the week to work solo in the ballroom. That determination included showing Hester Dobbs she wouldn’t be cowed.
She stood in the ballroom, turning a circle, looking at the notes she’d put in place. And realized she’d not only started, but finished.
She’d been through every piece.
Understanding, Clover offered U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.”
“No, I haven’t. But I will. And in the meantime, I’ve got a vision for this room now. The tables, the chairs—some still in the attic, some already in here. Those two benches that look like old church pews flanking the terrace doors. Love seat over there, and another over there.”
She wandered now as she drew it up in her head.
“Still have to decide on art, but there’s plenty to choose from. And that room over there? We’ll make it cozy.”
Pulling out her phone, she checked the time and saw she’d finished earlier than she’d planned.
With Yoda, she walked out to take a closer look at the servants’ quarters on that level. And came first to Molly’s.
She tried not to dwell on the young Irish girl she’d come to know writhing in pain on the narrow bed.
“Will that stop?” she murmured. “Will that finally stop for you when I break the curse? I hope so. Maybe you’ll go, go to whatever’s next. And oh boy, we’ll miss you if you do. But either way, I want that to stop.”
Clover tried Shinedown and “Dead Don’t Die.”
“Well, at least not here, or some other places. And not the way I always thought.”
She walked to the dresser, opened the top drawer. Inside, she found the butterfly bottle, the hair combs. Even as her heart warmed, her eyes stung.
“All right, Molly, this is your place for as long as you want it. I’d like to make it a little better for you. Add a couple of pretty lamps, a mirror, a nice rug. Table and chair there—scaled for the room. A couple of Cleo’s garden paintings. She won’t want me to buy them, but I’m going to.
“Yeah, we can make this better for you. Make it reflect who you are.”
As that vision evolved, she went to the attic, went on a hunt. Delighted, she lifted a chair with an oval back framed in wood. The fabric on the back and the seat’s garden pattern struck her as dreamy. She didn’t want bold and striking for Molly, but soft and warm.
She placed it, then went back to hunt and found a small round table, a pretty globe lamp. She found a mirror that had the same shape as the back of the chair. Small, in a simple wood frame.
She went down for tools to hang it, let Yoda and Pye out, then stopped by Cleo’s studio on the way up.
“I know you’re working, sorry.”
“Almost wrapped for the day. Did something happen?”
“No, all quiet. Do you need the watercolors you’ve done of the wisteria, the pink roses?”
“Not necessarily, why?”
“How would you price them if you did want to put them in the show?”
Cleo puffed out a breath, shrugged, pushed at her hair. “I don’t know. Considering the size, the medium, I’d say a couple hundred. Maybe two-fifty depending on how I frame them. Again why?”
“I’m buying them. Two hundred each, because unframed works even better.”
“If you want them, take them. You’re not buying them.”
“I am buying them. They’re for Molly’s room.”
Setting aside her work, Cleo sat back. “Molly’s room.”
“I’m fixing it up a little, and those two small, dreamy flowers are perfect for what I’ve got going in there. So I’m buying them.”
“Not for sale.” Cleo crossed her arms. “For giving.”
Because she’d already worked this conversation out in the head, Sonya had the solution ready. “You give Molly one. I buy one to give to Molly.”
Cleo frowned, started to speak, frowned again. “Okay, that’s silly but fair.”
“Great. I’m taking them now. I have to hang the mirror I found, so I’ll hang the paintings. You should come take a look when you’re finished.”
“Are you kidding? I’m coming now. I thought you were working in the ballroom.”
“I was. It’s done—as far as going through everything. I just wanted to see what I wanted in the other rooms upstairs, and started with Molly’s.”
Cleo got the two paintings. “It’s a small room, so yeah, these are a good size for it.”
“I thought if I started working through the other rooms, we’d move stuff from storage, put it to use. Sort of put it to use. And I know what I want in the ballroom, in that small sitting room off it. It means moving masses of stuff, but we can use a lot of furniture in the ballroom.”
“Making progress.”
“On this, but not on the reason I started this.”
“It’ll come.”
When they reached Molly’s room, Sonya gestured. “Just walk in, then give me first impression.”
Cleo stepped in, and hands on hips, looked around.