The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

When Sonya opened the door, Mookie galloped in. Jones swaggered.

On the third floor, doors slammed like gunshots.

“Somebody’s not happy to see us,” Owen commented, and held out a bottle of wine. “He’s flower guy, I’m wine guy.”

“And both are appreciated.” Sonya took the bouquet of white tulips. She kissed Trey, then Owen.

“I got a kiss last night,” Owen reminded Cleo when she simply shut the door.

“Circumstances,” she said.

“Come on back. Can I ask how your client is? The one in the hospital.”

“She’s good. Better. They’ll keep her another day, maybe two. Owen spent more time with her than I could manage today.”

“You went to see her?” Sonya asked.

“Her ex used to work for me. Us,” he corrected. “She’s doing okay. Looks like she got the crap beat out of her, but doing okay. She’s counting on Trey to get her full custody of the kids and permission to move out of state with them. Back with her family.”

“She can count on it. I remember this smell,” Trey added. “And it’s just as good as the first time.”

“With special additions. Beer bread and apple pie.”

“You made pie?”

Cleo smiled at Owen, and poured two more glasses of wine. “I learned.”

“It looks good. You look good,” Trey added. “Both of you.”

“We had a good day.”

“Did you actually burn my shoes?”

“We did,” Cleo answered. “In a spot back near the woods, in a circle of stones and salt. Doused them with lighter fluid, tossed a match, and whoosh.”

“It wasn’t pretty,” Sonya told him, “but effective.” She got out three rawhide bones. “Now, you dogs take these and go behave yourselves. The humans are going to have dinner.”

“How do they feel about cats?” Cleo wondered.

Trey watched his big Lab/retriever mix gallop off with his bone. “Mookie’s fine with them.”

“Depends on the cat,” Owen told her.

“I’m getting one, as soon as I find the right one. I’ve got the gravy, Sonya. You get one of these big, strong men to take the platter to the table. We’re eating in style tonight.”

“So I see. I’ve got it,” Trey said. “I remember from last time.”

When Trey took it out of the warming oven, Owen blinked.

“Holy shit. That’s a serious pot roast dinner.”

“As the manor’s pot roast genius, I don’t do any other kind.” Sonya grabbed the bread and board.

“You need help with that?” Owen asked Cleo.

“I’ve got it. Just going to ladle it into the boat. You get the wine.”

At the table, Sonya plated the meal for all four of them before she sat.

“Compliments to the chefs,” Trey said.

“Haven’t tried it yet.” Owen sampled the roast. “Okay, now I have. Kudos. It’s better than your mom’s, Trey.”

“She knows. Thanks for this. It’s a lot of work. A lot of trouble.”

“You’re welcome. Speaking of work and trouble, Cleo and I set the date for our Event. Open house the second Saturday in June.”

“We’re talking a bash here.” As doors slammed, Cleo smiled up at the ceiling. “She hates the idea. And that just makes me love it more.”

“This is how you’re taking her on?” Owen wondered. “Throwing a party?”

“That’s a nice little bonus.” Cleo speared a chunk of carrot. “Mostly we want to open the house, fill it up with people, food, drink, music.”

“It’s made for just that,” Sonya added. “When’s the last time there’s been a real event in this house?”

“I’m too young to really remember it, but I’d say Collin and Johanna’s wedding. That didn’t end well,” Trey added.

“There won’t be a bride for Dobbs to murder. And we won’t let her dictate how we live here.”

The lights flicked off, on, off, on. Sonya picked up her wine. Then laughed when, with boosted volume, the iPad in the kitchen rolled out with CeeLo’s “Fuck You.”

“Can’t argue with that,” she said, and drank.

“You want to provoke her.”

“Sometimes.” She met Trey’s eyes and the worry in them. “She’s responsible for the deaths of women in my family for over two hundred years. So yeah, sometimes I want to give her a good shot. But that’s not the reason for the party. We’re going to live here, in this house, in this community. We’re going to be part of it. This is one way.”

“He’s not trying to talk you out of it.” As he spoke, Owen sliced off some more beef. “He has to line up all the facts, suppositions, and motivations. Trey was born a lawyer.” He forked some potato. “Now, if he were trying to talk you out of it, you’d end up talked out of it without realizing you’d been talked out of it.”

Sonya nodded. “I’ve noticed that about him. Most of the time, you’d think going another way was your idea in the first place.”

“You got it.”

“I do. And”—Sonya looked back at Trey—“I like that about him.”

“Good thing. So, how do you get all this done at the same time?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Sonya told Owen. “But that brings us back to the subject of food. Cleo and I thought we’d order food for our Event from the restaurants in town, and see if Bree could give us an idea on hiring servers and bartenders and all the rest.”

“It’s a good idea.” Trey took a slice of bread. “People will come.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Owen agreed.

“Will the Pooles?” Sonya wondered.

“The ones who are around? Probably, yeah. Everybody got what they wanted, Sonya. They’ve got no beef with you.”

“People who knew Collin liked him,” Trey added. “Those who didn’t know him, they’ll come out of curiosity. And because both of you are making connections in the village.”

“I like the village,” Cleo said. “I’m going to like seeing it from the bay when you build me that boat.”

“He’s got the design.”

“Does he?” Over the rim of her glass, Cleo smiled. “I’d like to see it.”

“Am I bugging you about the painting?”

“But,” Cleo pointed out, “you’ve seen it in progress.”

“I walked in on it. I don’t do showings.”

“What about Yoda’s doghouse?” When Owen sent Sonya an exasperated look, she waved it away. “No, I’ll come back to that. Getting off topic. The Event. Do you think we could get Manny’s group to play?”

“You want the band?”

As Trey considered, Owen grabbed the bread. “Now we’re talking. I figured you’d do some fancy formal deal where everyone’s standing around like stiffs while somebody’s playing the harp or whatever.”

“We could get a harpist to play in the front parlor.”

Owen pointed at Cleo. “Don’t spoil it. Rock Hard? They’ll jump on it.”

“They’ll jump on it,” Trey agreed. “Just understand you’re going to have people roaming all over the manor.”

“That’s why it’s called an open house. But hoping for good weather,” Sonya put in, “we’re going to set up tables outside. We’ve got several folding tables in storage.”

“You hear that, Trey?” Owen tilted his head as if listening. “That’s the sound of you and me getting drafted into hauling up tables.”

“And chairs,” Cleo added. “And, Son, I think we should hang some party lights.”

“Who doesn’t love party lights?”

“The person who has to hang them,” Owen said. “Then take them down.”

“Maybe we’ll leave them up. Cleo?”

“I love that idea. String them in that wonderful witchy weeper, around the deck over the apartment.”

“Which is where we’d want the band to set up. It’s a good thing, Trey.” Sonya reached over for his hand. “A good, positive thing.”

“It’s a good, positive thing. And good, positive community relations.”

“Another solid bonus on that. A woman has to earn a living.”

“How’s the Ryder proposal going?”

“I got some time in on it today before I switched to my revamp of Gigi’s website.”

“The girlie place on Bay off High Street?” Owen reached for a second helping. Of everything.

“Would you call it girlie?”

He shrugged. “Girl clothes, smelly girl stuff. That qualifies. Clarice—cousin—likes the smelly stuff.”

“Make a note,” Sonya told Cleo. “Have Gigi’s smelly girl stuff in the bathrooms for the event.”

“Right there with you.”

“Now”—Sonya smiled as Trey topped off her wine. Then, lifting her glass, turned to Owen—“about that doghouse.”

By the time they’d eaten their fill, Sonya had poured the last of the second bottle of wine. “I say we take this, walk around with the dogs before we come back for pie. And we’ll tub up some of this, and some of that, for both of you to take home.”

“I especially like that part. It was a damn good meal,” Owen added. “Appreciate it.”

“You’re going to want a jacket. Both of you.” Trey gave Sonya’s bare arm a stroke as they rose. “April nights are cool.”

The music on the iPad had Sonya frowning. “I don’t know that one.”

“‘Pieces of April,’” Owen told her. “Three Dog Night.”

“Owen knows music,” Trey said.

“So I see. Well, speaking of dogs, we’ll take them out the front, grab jackets.”

All three dogs got up, stretched, and raced to the front.

“We’ll take KP when we get back. It’s only fair.”

“I’ll let you.” Sonya glanced up at Trey as they walked. “I’m not sure Molly will.”

“Invisible housekeeper. Handy,” Owen decided. “I could use one of those.”

“She’s family now, too.”

She paused outside the music room, and the two portraits she’d found in the studio. Of Clover and of Johanna—the sixth and seventh brides.

“Just like they are.”

They stopped in the small parlor for jackets, then stepped out into a star-strewn night that struck between cool and cold.

“Going to see a freeze tonight,” Owen predicted.

“Are you two warm enough?”

Trey took Sonya’s hand. “We’re Maine men, cutie. This is balmy.”

“It’s so clear.” Shaking back her hair, Cleo looked up. “You never see stars like this in Boston.”

“How about Lafayette?” Owen wondered.

“No, not unless you head into the bayou.”

“Ever think about going back?”

“For visits, sure. To live?” Cleo shook her head. “I found my place. I love this house.” She turned, looked back at it. “Dobbs wants to spoil that. Chase us out. She doesn’t understand who she’s dealing with.”

As she spoke, the window of the Gold Room slapped open. In the glimmer of starlight, something flew out. Something big, something fast, that let out a shrill, inhuman shriek.

Even as Owen shoved Cleo behind him, Trey shifted to stand in front of Sonya.

It took a heartbeat, no more than two, with all three dogs barking vicious warnings. And Jones actually leaping up as if to attack what flew at them.

Then, with the stink of sulfur, it vanished.

“She did that once before.” Fighting for calm, Sonya bent to pick up Yoda, to soothe. “It didn’t work then either.”

“Hell of a show, though.” Digging into his pocket, Owen pulled out three small dog treats, tossed them. “Jones doesn’t back down.”

“Do you always carry those?” Cleo asked.

“Don’t you?”

She laughed. “I believe I’ll start. Well. That may or may not conclude our show for the evening.”

Sonya gave Yoda a kiss on the nose, then set him down. “Let’s go have pie.”

Trey took her hand, kissed it. “No, she doesn’t understand who she’s dealing with. I’ve got a bag in the truck. I’m staying tonight.”

“I was hoping you would.”

“I’ve got some gear in mine,” Owen added. “I thought I’d bunk here if that’s okay.”

“Looking out for us, Cousin?”

“Maybe I figure I’ve had a lot of wine, and shouldn’t drive.”

“I guess Jones doesn’t have a license.”

“Suspended. He’s a maniac behind the wheel.”

Cleo looked down at Jones, scruffy and fierce with his eye patch. “I actually believe that.”

They went in to find not only a spotless kitchen and dining room, but the leftovers divided into three tubs.

“Thank you, Molly. Well, I’m about to serve my first pie. Does everyone want coffee with that?”

“I’ll handle the coffee.” Trey stepped over to the machine while the iPad started a new tune.

“Johnny Cash,” Owen told them. “‘Cup of Coffee.’”

“I think you and Clover would get along very well,” Sonya commented.

“Since Trey already told me—back when—and I’ve seen her picture? Hot babe. I try to get along with hot babes.”

The music switched to Avril Lavigne’s “Hot,” and Owen grinned.

“Back atcha, gorgeous.”

“You know, she’s my grandmother, which makes her your—what, great-aunt?”

“Still a hot babe, and one with excellent taste in music.”

“Pie.” Cleo set four servings at the casual table.

“Coffee.” Trey brought over the rest.

“Remember, it’s my first.”

Owen took a generous bite. “Hell of a good start.”

It was, and Sonya decided also an excellent finish as the day—or more accurately the night before—began to catch up with her.

“I’m sorry to break this up so early, but I’m fading fast.”

“I’m going to be right behind you,” Cleo told her.

“Owen, do you know what room you want?”

“I’ll crash in the one I had last time. I have to head out early, so thanks again if I don’t see you.”

Sonya caught the look that passed between the two men, and sighed.

“I don’t give a damn about the mirror tonight. I’m going to sleep.”

“We could all use it.” Cleo covered the rest of the pie. “I’ll see whoever’s around in the morning after ten.”

They went upstairs, with the dogs following, then parted ways.

In her bedroom, Sonya let out another sigh. “This was exactly the right way to spend the evening after how we spent last night.”

“And you’re tired.” Lifting his hand, Trey laid it on her cheek.

“It’s starting to hit. Don’t let me get up and walk tonight if you can stop me.”

“Don’t worry. No walking tonight.”

Trusting him, she got ready for bed, then curled up beside him.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“No place I’d rather be.”

He felt her drift off within minutes, then lay listening to the manor. The sounds of settling, the rhythmic beat of the water against rock.

The sounds of murmurs and whispers that sounded like voices lost in the wind.

His dog and hers slept quiet, and after a time, so did he.

But he woke when the clock chimed three. She stirred against him, muttered in her sleep, then lay quiet again.

While she slept, he listened to the drift of piano music, the heartbreak of weeping, the creak of a door, the rattle of a window.

He heard something, a call or a cry from outside, over the sound of the sea. Quietly, he slipped out of bed, walked to the terrace doors, eased his way out.

And he saw the figure in black standing on the seawall. Saw her dark hair fly in a wind he couldn’t feel.

She threw her hands up to a moon that hadn’t been full when they’d walked the dogs.

When she leapt, her black dress billowing, his heart jolted.

The wind died, and the moon sailed as a crescent.

He stepped back in, closed the doors. When he got back into bed, the house lay quiet again.

Sonya woke alone. No Trey, no dogs. Thinking that was too damn bad, she sat up. She not only wasn’t tired after the solid night’s sleep, she’d have enjoyed sliding into a little wake-up sex.

Barely seven, she realized. And here she considered herself an early riser.

She took a moment to stand by the windows, looking out at the sun, the sea, all gold and blue. A fishing boat, white and red, glided by on its morning business, and a scatter of gulls winged by on theirs.

“This feels a lot better than yesterday morning, and so do I.”

She grabbed her phone, shoved it in the pocket of her sleep pants.

She started down, past Cleo’s room, the room Owen used—her door closed, his open, bed made.

She wondered if she’d ever come to take it for granted—the rooms, the beauty and history, the feel of the house that had become hers.

And decided, as she walked down the grand staircase, absolutely not.

She made her way into the kitchen, where Trey and Owen talked quietly over pie and coffee.

Conversation broke off when she came in.

She said, “Good morning,” and headed for the coffee.

“Morning,” Trey echoed. “The dogs are running off their breakfast out back.”

Now she said, “Mmm. So you two are having pie for breakfast.”

“It was right there,” Owen pointed out. “No different from a Danish or a turnover, if you ask me.”

She turned with her coffee, leaned back against the counter as she studied them. Two great-looking men, she thought. Friends, longtime friends. Longer than she and Cleo. Friends who could communicate with each other without words.

Like right now.

Her phone gave Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” a spin.

“Right. I’ve been known to play poker myself, so… You might as well tell me what’s going on, as it involves me, directly or indirectly.”

“Over to you, pal.” Owen rose, took a tub of leftovers out of the fridge. “I’ve got to get moving.” He picked up the bag at his feet and started toward the back door.

“Owen?”

He paused when Sonya said his name, turned as she walked to him. Then when she wrapped her arms around him, gave her back an awkward pat.

She could actually feel him look over her head at Trey.

“Thanks for being here.” She let him go.

“No problem. Later.”

When he went out the back, gave Jones a whistle, she turned back to Trey.

“I don’t like you keeping things from me.”

“I’m not doing that. Won’t do that. I fully intended to tell you when you got up. Or if I had to leave before, I’d have called you to tell you.”

She knew truth when she heard it, and nodded. “Okay. Tell me now. Did I try to walk last night?”

“No. When the three a.m. business started, you muttered something in your sleep. But I couldn’t make it out. But besides the usual, I heard something outside.”

“Outside the house?”

“Yeah. I got up, went over to look.” He took a moment, drank coffee. “And I saw her. Dobbs. I saw her standing on the seawall—but under a full moon, with the wind really whipping.”

“We didn’t have a full moon last night.”

“That’s right. I’m going to bet the moon was full when Dobbs jumped off that wall. Like I watched her do last night.”

“You—you watched her jump?” Instinctively, Sonya pressed a hand to her heart. “You saw her suicide.”

“I did. She stood on that wall, raised her arms up, and just…” He tipped the flat of his hand over. “Just after three in the morning. Everything got quiet almost right after she jumped. The wind died, and the moon changed back.”

His eyes, deep and eerily blue with the black rings around the irises, looked directly into hers. “It wasn’t stepping through a magic mirror into another time, but it was a goddamn moment.”

“You could’ve waked me.”

“Why? It was over, and all of us needed some sleep.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Instead, she walked to him, set her coffee down, and wrapped her arms around him as she had Owen.

“She didn’t hesitate, Sonya. She’d come here to end herself at the manor, and that’s just what she did.”

“And she’s still here, a part of her is.” Drawing back, she framed his face, kissed him. “That had to be beyond strange, and really hard to witness.”

“Your instinct is to stop it. Just stop it, no matter what she did, what she is or was. But there was no stopping it.”

“It wasn’t for love of Collin Poole. That’s not love, I don’t believe that. It’s not jealousy over a man.”

“They’d have hanged her. For the murder of Astrid Poole. They’d have hanged her in the village, away from the manor. She needed to die here, at her own time, at his place, by her own means. I don’t know much about witchcraft or curses, but I’m betting on that.”

“Oh.” She stepped back as it struck her. “Of course. It makes sense in the completely insane scope of it all. How could she doom a Poole bride every generation if she was hanged miles away? How could she take their wedding rings—because the rings, Trey, are part of how the curse holds.”

“The spell you heard—when she killed Agatha Poole.”

Closing her eyes, Sonya brought it back.

“‘With my blade, I took the first, then by my blood this house was cursed. One by one they wed, they die, because they seek to take what’s mine.’”

She opened her eyes. “‘And with their rings of gold, my spell will hold and hold.’”

And shuddered.

“She stabbed Astrid—by her blade,” Sonya began. “She killed herself here—by her blood. And yeah, the rings are the key to holding the spell, the curse.”

“There’s the other part. They—not she, not Astrid— they seek to take what’s mine. Not Collin Poole, Sonya, or not just Collin Poole.”

“The manor.” On a long breath, she slid down onto a stool. “Not love for Collin Poole, however deranged. The manor. He’d inherited the manor from Arthur Poole, from his father, after his father had a riding accident.”

“Was it an accident?”

Eyes wide, she pressed a hand to her heart. “You think—and God, I see why—she caused the accident.”

“She has an affair with the oldest son, the son who’ll inherit the manor—and all the prestige that goes with it. A lot of wealth besides. Get rid of his father so it passes to him? It’s not a big stretch, considering.”

“I guess it isn’t.”

“But then, he doesn’t want Dobbs. He’s not going to marry Dobbs.”

“He marries Astrid Grandville. He loved her, Trey. They loved each other. I saw that. I saw them.”

“I’m not disputing that. In fact, that’s part of it.”

Rising, he slid his hands in his pockets. Paced to the window to check on the dogs.

“He loved someone else, married someone else. Someone who’d live here, make a family here. So she killed Astrid, the first bride. On her wedding day.”

“But Collin still didn’t want her.”

“No, he grieved, ordered that portrait painted. And Dobbs will be hanged for murder—and I’d say in no small part for witchcraft. She escapes long enough to come here, cement the curse with her own blood and death.”

“So she can stay.” Sonya nodded as it played out in her head. “In some twisted way hold the manor. Hold it by causing the death of a Poole bride, one every generation.”

“Taking their rings to bind it. It’s good. I guess it’s good to have what feels like a logical explanation.”

“Collin, in his grief, hanged himself. His brother inherited the manor, lived here with his wife, his children.

“Until his daughter Catherine—here, on her wedding night. Lured outside in a blizzard, where Dobbs waited. And froze to death. Dobbs took her ring. I saw that, too.”

“And down the line,” Trey finished.

“Except for Patricia Poole. My great-grandmother. She refused to live here, closed the manor. Her son Charles opened it again against her wishes, married Lilian Crest—Clover—against her wishes, no doubt. Clover dies giving birth to my father and his twin, and Charles hangs himself—like Collin did.”

“She separates the twins, puts your father up for adoption and passes your uncle Collin off as her daughter’s son.”

Down the line, Sonya thought.

“I need to know more about Patricia Poole. More about Gretta, the daughter. I know she’s in Ogunquit, that she has dementia. I need to know more.”

“I’ll help as much as I can there.”

He took her mug over to the coffee station, made her a second cup.

“I know Gretta Poole never lived here,” he continued. “I don’t remember her ever coming here. Patricia Poole either.”

“I should talk to your father. I should talk to Deuce. He and Collin were close friends. If anyone can fill in some blanks, he could.”

Trey pulled out his phone. “I’ll text him. Let me set this up, have him come here. He’d want to come here for something like this.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. And I’ve got to go.” He took her shoulders. “You’re okay.”

“I like that you make that a statement of fact and not a question.”

“Because it is a fact. I’m going to have things to clear up with Marlo—my client. She’s being discharged from the hospital sometime today or tomorrow. And if she’s up to it, there’s paperwork I have to have her sign so I can file. I don’t know if I can get back. And…”

“I’m okay,” she reminded him. “Don’t forget the leftovers.”

“Not likely. Look, if something’s not okay—”

“I’ll call you.”

“Expect Deuce around two.” He kissed her, lingered over it.

He got the tub, kissed her again. “Any chance you can put all this away awhile?”

“A very big chance. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Good. We’ll talk later.”

When he went out the back, she held the door open to let Yoda in.

“I know, you’ll miss your pals.” On his whine, she bent down to give him a good rub. “But I’m here. Right here. And that’s where I’m going to stay.”

She decided apple pie for breakfast was an excellent idea. With it and her second cup of coffee, she sat down to check her email and line up her day of work.