Chapter Twenty
Despite the morning rain, everything looked brighter. To Sonya’s ear, the whole world sang.
Coffee tasted even more wonderful. Her toasted bagel? Fit for the gods.
She recognized herself as a walking cliché, and didn’t care.
She managed to work, even when she caught herself singing along to Clover’s morning playlist.
She had to restrain herself from getting up and dancing to Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”
She restrained herself again when Cleo, with a vague morning wave, walked downstairs.
Ten minutes, she ordered herself. Give her ten minutes to get down, make coffee, drink enough to wake up.
She managed seven.
Cleo sat at the island, sleepily scrolling on the kitchen tablet, with coffee, her half a Toaster Strudel, her cup of granola-laced yogurt.
She gave Sonya a look with lazy lion’s eyes.
“Trey must’ve been on his game last night. You have the look of a woman who’s been very well laid.”
“There was that.” She glanced at Cleo’s breakfast mug. “Drink some more coffee.”
“I intend to.”
“No, I mean now. Wake up!”
“You know the reason we’ve always been good roommates—now housemates, Son? Because you know I don’t like conversation before at least one full cup of coffee in the morning.”
“Make an exception.”
Cleo drank a little more. “This better be good.”
“It’s so good. The best. It’s better than the best.” She did a quick twirl. “Trey loves me.”
Cleo sipped a little more coffee and gave her friend a long, lazy stare.
“Oh, such news.” she said, flat-voiced, flat-eyed. “Bring out the band, cue the acrobats. Why, I’d never have known. Except for the way he looks at you, touches you, stands up and by you. I feel I might swoon from the surprise.”
“Drink more coffee! He told me he loved me. He told me he’s in love with me, and has been, and wants to get married and have babies.”
“Whoa! Wait!” Cleo shot up one hand, downed more coffee with the other. “He asked you to marry him?”
“No. He said he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t because … Are you awake?”
“I am now. And I want details. Every tiny detail.”
“Okay.” Sonya dropped down on the stool beside her. “After you and Owen went up, I could tell he was upset, and pissed off about something.”
She told her, every tiny detail.
When Sonya teared up, so did Cleo.
“It’s like one of our girls’-night movies, only better. Son, he’s such a good man. Such a really good man. The things he said to you—beyond all the sweet, sweet things? They make solid sense.”
“You mean I can’t marry him until.”
“A fabulous dress and a piece of paper? They count, sure they do. But they’re not worth the risk. I know both of you are traditional—”
“Like you’re not?”
“Not as much.” Cleo got up for another cup of coffee. “But I’m romantic enough to believe, all the way, that love matters more, and most. You have that, and we’ll get you the rest. We’ll work even harder now.”
She came back, sat. “You know I love him, too, and I’m so happy the two of you found each other because, Son, the two of you really work. I believe you were meant to find each other, and would have regardless, but who knows when. If.”
“If I hadn’t come here. If I hadn’t come here, and stayed. I think that, too, the way I think my parents would’ve found each other even if Dad had been raised here. That’s what I’ve always wanted, Cleo, deep down in it. That kind of love and commitment, that kind of partnership.”
“Now you have it.”
Clover celebrated that with “Walking on Sunshine” as the rain drummed outside.
“I am! And it does feel good. I want it all for you, too, Cleo.”
Cleo’s smile came slow and easy. “Oh, I’m in no rush for the all part. I’m enjoying feeling what I never felt for anyone before. Owen’s a very good man, too.”
“My favorite cousin for a reason.”
Cleo’s smile turned into a knowing one as she sipped her coffee. “And so far has been consistently on his game.”
“And with that, I have to get back to work.”
“I’ll be in the studio today, obviously. If it clears up, I may take it out to the garden.”
Still walking on sunshine, Sonya started out. She paused by the music room, took a careful look. Six brides, six rings.
But she’d tried to puzzle out why more frequently Owen saw differently, now and then.
Because he was a man? Maybe? Because, even though he’d been a toddler, he’d met one of the brides? He’d met Johanna.
She decided to give herself a week to feel giddy. And, she admitted, smug. So she floated through the days, and the nights as August waned.
The contract for another book cover pumped up that area of her life. She settled into designing the look for a fantasy romance—one that included witches.
Some good, some not. But none, in her opinion, who could hold an evil candle to Dobbs.
On the point of shutting down for the day, she reached for her phone, and a call from Trey.
“Hi, good timing. I’m just—”
“Anna’s in labor. Now. I mean now. I went over there to—doesn’t matter—and she—it all started happening. Right there.”
“Where are you now?”
“Where? At the place—the birthing center. Seth was out on a boat with some VIPs, and he’s on his way. He’s coming, but we had to get here. I don’t know—”
The phone bobbled, then Anna spoke. “I’m fine. Contractions still about five minutes apart, and I’m fine. Except when the apart ends, then wow! But they said it’ll be hours yet probably. Everything’s good, but it’s early. Seth’s coming, and we called Mom and Dad.”
“And you’ve got Trey right there. You’re going to do great. If you need me and Cleo, we’re there.”
“Cheer me on from the manor. Uh-oh, I think the apart’s over.”
“It’s happening again,” Trey said. “I’ve gotta be here. I don’t know when—”
“Concentrate on Anna and the baby. Just text when you have a niece.”
“Right. I gotta go.”
Thrilled, Sonya ran down to tell Cleo. And Cleo ran out of the kitchen.
“Anna’s having the baby!”
“I was coming down to tell you. Trey’s with her.”
“And Owen’s heading over there because he says Trey’s all at once a basket case.”
“I heard that for myself. It was kind of cute.”
“I’m lighting candles for Mama, and for Fill-in-the-Blank Kate Miller. We’re going to be honorary aunties. And you’ll be able to drop that honorary soon. It’s going to be soon.”
“God, that’s right! Let’s light a whole bunch of candles.”
“That’s what we’ll do. After, we go up to the widow’s walk, have some wine to toast them both. Then we come down, light a veritable shitload of candles, make one of our big salads.”
“A most excellent plan. Anna said they said a few hours yet at least.”
“Bringing a human being into the world takes time. So we add popcorn and a movie.”
“I’m for all that. You can bug Owen for updates. I think I shouldn’t distract Trey.”
Cleo chose some wine. “So, what’s a flustered Trey like?”
“Adorable.”
Owen’s updates throughout the evening largely consisted of: Not yet.
They left the candles burning until midnight, through dinner, popcorn, a double feature.
The final text as one day became the next had a little more.
They’re saying a couple hours more. Everything’s doing what it’s supposed to do. They kicked everybody out but Seth, his mom, and Corrine until it’s wrapped up.
After Cleo read off the text, she started to answer. “I’ll tell him to text me, have Trey text you when the baby’s here.”
“You’ll never hear a text once you’re asleep. Tell him to have Trey call me.”
“You’re right, and that’s better. You can come in and wake me up with the good news.”
They blew out the candles, headed to bed.
“Almost to the finish line,” Sonya said.
“It’s a marathon. Wake me up.”
“I will. I’m going to let Yoda and Pye out one last time. I want a quick walk anyway.”
Because she wanted the sea, she took them out the front. On the cool, cloudy night, the twinkle of lights in the weeping tree broke through the dark.
She thought of Anna, laboring to bring a new life into the world, and patted the phone in her pocket.
As she walked toward the seawall she heard music. The piano in the parlor—not Astrid’s sad song, but something livelier, happier. A man and woman’s voice sang a duet.
Even as she turned back, the light of a sky full of brilliant stars and the bright half-moon washed over her. The sea breeze blew, but warmer than it had.
The couple, he in formal black, she in a long, pale green dress with white, elbow-length gloves, strolled across the lawn. She wore her dark hair up in a high knot, which added to her statuesque silhouette. A tall comb glittered above the knot.
As they walked past her, close enough to touch, Sonya recognized Owen, a young Owen Poole, and Agatha, the fourth bride.
“It’s somewhat cooler tonight than I realized,” he said. “Are you warm enough, or shall I fetch your shawl?”
“My constitution is strong, and I am comfortable, thank you. It’s quite a pleasant evening. My parents and I are always grateful for an invitation to Poole Manor.”
“My father very much enjoys their companionship. As I very much enjoy yours.”
“And I yours, of course.”
When he turned to Agatha, Sonya thought of the day she’d seen him and Moira walking together. Not the same, she thought. His smile? Pleasant, yes, but not joyful.
It seemed to her both of them carried themselves with the stiffness of formality rather than any sort of friendship.
“My dear Agatha, as our families are tied together, I have hope that you and I may unite our lives in marriage. My feelings for you are strong and true. I vow to be a devoted and faithful husband, and to provide you with a comfortable life. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Even the sea went silent as Agatha turned to Sonya.
“I believe he would have kept that promise, as Owen Poole was an honorable man.”
“He was. Everything I’ve learned about him says he was an honorable man.”
“I would have been a good and faithful wife to him, a good and honorable mistress of Poole Manor when it came to him.”
“Yes, I know you would have.”