The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Late that afternoon, Trey sat in the conference room on the second floor of the old Victorian that housed Doyle Law Offices, with his apartment above on the third.

The family held this semiannual meeting at the offices, once the family home, to cloak it in a business setting rather than a free-for-all family dinner.

Ace, in his three-piece suit, his mane of white hair, sat at the table’s head. His wife, the quietly elegant Paula, faced him from the opposite end. Deuce sat on his right, with Corrine beside him, Trey on Ace’s left, with Trey’s sister, Anna, beside him, and her husband, Seth, across.

Sadie, Deuce’s admin, who ruled all—as she had for decades—swept in with a tray of cheese, crackers, and fruit.

“You eat some of that.” She pointed at Anna. “Growing another human takes energy. Energy needs fuel.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Anna patted her baby bump. “And I’m always hungry these days.”

“And you.” She gave Deuce a hard look. “You have a client due in an hour and…” She checked the watch on her wrist. “Ten minutes. No lollygagging.”

“I’ll be there.”

“If he gags his lollies, Sadie,” Ace assured her, “we’ll give him the boot.”

“See you do.”

When the door closed behind Sadie, Ace pointed at the tray. “Grab it if you’re going to, and let’s get down to it.”

The firm’s founder and family patriarch ran this show. He adjusted his black-framed bifocals and began.

“I’m going to start by putting up our new website. I know we’ve all seen it and agree it’s a major improvement. So, thanks to Trey for getting Sonya MacTavish on board. And to my lovely daughter-in-law for her excellent photography.”

“I had good subjects,” Corrine said, “especially Mookie.”

Under the table, the dog batted his tail at his name.

“Ace,” Paula warned as she caught him sneaking some cheese to the dog.

“He’s entitled. It says right on the website he’s our legal consultant. Which takes me to another section of our new and improved website. Interns. I’m going to propose, when Eddie’s passed the bar, we offer him a position as associate.”

They discussed the ins and outs, moved on to other business that required updated documents and signatures.

“I should say that Sonya recommended me for the photographs in an update of Stevenson, Kubrick, and Wayne’s website. You all know Pete Stevenson, and my lawyer assures me there’s no conflict of interest.”

“As long as she doesn’t make Pete look better than me.”

“As if I could.” Corrine gave Deuce’s hand a quick smack.

“The girl keeps rolling, doesn’t she?” Ace gave an approving nod. “While we can’t discuss any of the legalities of her inheritance here, I’d like to know how she’s doing outside her work. Trey?”

“She just keeps rolling. I have to admit, before I met her, I doubted Collin’s decision to leave her the manor and what goes with it. I didn’t think she’d meet the terms of her inheritance, even stay to the end of the year. But she’s no pushover, whoever or whatever’s doing the pushing.”

“Since we didn’t speak as attorney/client,” Deuce began, “I’ll tell you she plans to go to Ogunquit and speak to Gretta Poole. Or try to.”

“Oh dear.” Paula’s eyes clouded with concern. “I can understand why she feels she must or should, but I’m afraid she’ll be disappointed.”

“Very likely,” Ace agreed. “I doubt Gretta’s capable of adding anything to the family history for her. Or anything else, for that matter.”

“She was always weak-willed,” Paula murmured. “Looking back, I wonder that I believed she’d met someone, gotten pregnant. She never once in my memory went outside the lines, and certainly never stood up to her mother. Then, few did.”

“You did.” With obvious pride, Ace beamed at her.

“That’s old business.” She waved it away like a pesky fly. “Ancient business.”

“And as fresh as ever.” Grinning, he blew her a kiss. “Collin had just come into his inheritance—the manor and the rest—and decided to open it again, live there.”

“I remember.” Deuce picked up his water glass, smiled into it. “I was nearly as excited as he was. We’d managed to sneak in plenty as boys.”

“ Sneak isn’t accurate,” his mother said dryly. “I knew what the two of you were up to.”

“Did you?” Amused, impressed, he angled his head. “You never tried to stop us.”

“Trying to stop two young boys from exploring a haunted house?” She gave a light laugh at the thought. “I’d have failed, so why not let you think you were getting away with something? I wasn’t the least surprised when Collin decided to move there. But apparently Patricia was.”

“I never met her,” Seth said, “but I’ve heard tales—my parents have a few. I think this is going to be a good one.”

“She came knocking on our door—”

“Now, Ace.”

“Now, my own darling. This house,” he continued. “We were still living here. I wasn’t home, and that’s a shame. Though my own darling took care of the old… I’ll use another B word. Bully.”

Shifting in his chair, Deuce turned to his mother. “She came here, to you, about Collin living in the manor?”

“All right then.” Paula threw up her hands. “More about you, Deuce. At first very polite, in that cold, cutting way she had. She believed you had influenced Collin to make this move, and she expected I would speak to you, demand you remove that influence. My response didn’t suit her.”

“Which was?” Trey wondered.

“Basically, that both her grandson and my son were of age, and knowing Collin as I did, I believed he made his own decisions. When her continued soft-pedaling—as I’m sure she saw it—didn’t move me, she threatened my family.”

“Uh-oh,” Anna murmured.

“She would ruin us in Poole’s Bay, see that we were ostracized, that Ace was disbarred and my son disgraced so he would never have his law degree.”

“Let’s go back to that first B word,” Trey suggested, and got a wide grin from his grandfather. “She could never have done any of that.”

Paula took a delicate sip from her water glass. “She may have believed she could, or that I would wilt under such threats. She was in an absolute rage.”

“My own darling told her to get the hell out of our house, that she would never be welcome there again. And—my favorite part—to stick her threats up her skinny ass. If she tried to harm our family, she’d find out just what the Doyles were capable of.”

“Go, Grandma!” Anna applauded.

“You never said a word,” Deuce spoke softly. “Not a single word about any of this.”

“I wasn’t nearly as pleased with my own language and temper as your father. Not once I’d calmed down in any case. And we agreed, your father and I, not to say anything that would worry you or Collin.”

“Did she try anything?” Trey asked her.

“No—at least not that I’m aware of. Bullies often fall back when confronted, don’t they? I think she simply threw Collin in with our family. She dismissed him,” Paula added, and some hints of that former temper came through again. “Just dismissed him. She couldn’t do anything about his inheritance—the manor, the business, the money. So she worked with him, but on a personal level he wasn’t important any longer.”

“He knew you loved him.” Deuce looked down the table at his mother. “He knew we were his family.”

“Yes. We didn’t know then about the true facts of his birth, about his brother and the heartless decision Patricia made all those years ago. But he was our family. He was a brother to you, Deuce, and a son to your father and me.

“Now that family extends to Sonya.”

“It would,” Anna agreed, “even if I didn’t like her as much as I do. What’s going on at the manor, Trey?”

“I’ll start that saga by telling you they found another portrait in Collin’s studio. Well, Cleo’s studio now. Lisbeth Poole on her wedding day.”

“Lisbeth,” Deuce murmured. “First Johanna, then Lilian, now Lisbeth. Reverse chronological order.”

“It has Collin’s signature. Like the others, it wasn’t in the inventory. They’ve hung it in the music room with the other two.”

“You know that’s creepy.” Looking around the table, Seth lifted his hands. “Am I the only one here who thinks that’s creepy?”

“No,” Anna assured him.

“Then brace yourself.”

Trey told them the rest, weaving his way through interruptions as his family talked over each other.

“Maybe I should change creepy to terrifying .”

“It’s actually not,” Trey told Seth. “At least most of the time the manor’s how I remember it whenever I’d visit Collin. This big, fascinating house, with just a little extra. And the extra added, and still does, makes it more fascinating.

“But,” Trey added, “when Dobbs winds up, she packs a punch. And that can be literal.”

“Is she safe there, Trey?”

He looked over at his mother. “I have to believe she is. She matters to me, so I have to believe that. What I know is Dobbs is outnumbered, and not just by a couple of steel-spined women.”

“I want to meet this Cleo.” Ace sent a wink to his wife. “I have a soft spot for steel-spined women.”

“Can we clear the decks for Sunday dinner?” Corrine looked around the table. “I’ll invite them. And Owen, as he’s part of the family, and part of this. All right, Deuce?”

“More than all right.”

“Sounds good to me. And I’ve got to go up,” Trey added, “change for a dinner meeting.”

“With Sonya?” Anna wondered.

“A client thing.”

“Then, unless there’s any other business…” Ace looked around the table. “We’re adjourned.”

In the manor, Sonya set up her laptop on the second floor of the library. She’d worked straight through until six, and knew she’d created the best proposal possible for the Ryder project.

But Cleo’s eye would tell her where and how she’d missed.

As she synced the computer with the screen, Cleo came up the stairs with two glasses of wine.

“For your anxiety, and my enjoyment.”

As if anticipating a show, Yoda already perched beside the sofa. The cat followed Cleo up and wandered the new space before choosing the window seat.

“I’m not very anxious, but I will be when this is real. And I won’t have wine there, so I’ll take it now. Absolute honesty, Cleo.”

“I’ll never give you anything less.” Cleo took a seat on the sofa, lifted her glass. “When you’re ready.”

“I did the voice-overs myself. I needed to time them, coordinate them. And if Ryder goes for it, they can hire their own voice actor. But tell me if that part fails, and I’ll contract a pro.”

Too revved to sit, Sonya stood with the wine in one hand, her remote in the other.

“I’m going to start with the visual of the logo, with the changes I made. And with a collage I want to add to a drop-down History tab on their website.”

The logo flashed on-screen, and yes, she thought, she liked the hint of motion.

“For three generations, Ryder Sports has stood for excellence and innovation.” Her voice flowed over the logo, and continued as the images changed to public domain shots of the Boston flagship store, and the Ryder family.

She’d blended images of the Ryders and athletes, more of their philanthropic work, sports camps for disadvantaged and disabled children, scholarships, sponsorships.

“Ryder excels,” she ended, “so you can.”

She paused the screen.

“Too much, not enough?”

“I think you hit it, Son. Who doesn’t want to hear about their good works, their longevity, their successes? And anyone clicking on that tab wants to learn about the history.”

“I’m torn between starting there, or with the website itself. Or one of the ads.”

“The history’s not the big bang, but it builds to it. Keep going.”

“Okay.” She put up the website. “No voice-overs here. I’ll do my pitch.”

“Let’s hear it.”

With a nod, Sonya took a sip of wine. Then one more.

“While I headed the team that designed Ryder’s website, I feel it needs some updates and refreshes.”

She used her tablet to demonstrate the drop-downs, the links, the streamlined review section. Then the flash to the new store in Portland.

“As work progresses on the new store, this section will update, and include the countdown to opening.”

She wound up all the hows and whys of that area, paused again.

“Too technical?”

“A little bit.” Legs crossed, Cleo tapped a finger on her thigh as she considered. “I can see the site’s user-friendly. It always was, since I’ve used it—and that’s you again. I’d save the tech stuff because people who aren’t into tech will just tune out. Since you don’t want that, you go into it if someone asks a tech question.”

“You’re right. I got caught up in the tech,” Sonya realized. “I’ll cut that down, and that should, hopefully, shorten all this so I can get to that bang.”

She brought up the next. “Digital ads.”

“Yes! Hot guy pumping iron,” Cleo said as Owen’s picture came on-screen.

“Whether you’re pumping iron,” the voice-over streamed as the photos scrolled, “or shooting hoops, Ryder’s got you covered. If you’re fielding a ball or riding to work, Ryder’s got you covered. Whether it’s yoga, tai chi, your first time on two wheels, or throwing a spiral, Ryder’s got you covered. Because…”

The visual ended on the field where Ryder equipment spread, with the tag beneath.

Game On!

“In work, in life, Ryder’s got you.”

“All right, baby, that is gold! I mean it, Sonya. I want to go order a new yoga outfit, a new mat, and I feel a sudden need to start lifting weights.”

When Sonya laughed, Cleo pointed at her. “I actually mean it. I mean, naturally, about the outfit, as I’m due for one. But your arms are happening, and I think I want mine to.”

“They are?” Frowning Sonya looked down and flexed. “They sort of are.”

“Anyway, show me the rest.”

She went through in-store ads, billboards, signage.

She ended with an image that spanned ages and interests from a little girl on a tricycle to a group of seniors doing tai chi in a park.

Ryder Sports

For Any Age, For Any Interest

For Everyone

“You sure as hell sold me. And you ended with the bang. A number of bangs. Tone down the tech stuff.”

“Got that.”

“Do you know who from the Ryder family’s going to be there?”

“No. I know Burt will—Burt Springer, and I owe him for even having this chance.”

“Make eye contact. During your presentation, make eye contact, especially if any of the family’s there. You know how to give a presentation—you’ve done plenty of them. Do what you do. The work is gold, Sonya, absolute honesty.”

“Thanks, I can polish it up a little more.” Pacing, she nodded. “Yeah, just a little shine up here and there, let most of the tech stuff go unless asked. And I’ll know when that’s done, it’s the best I can do. It won’t be as slick as By Design, but—”

“Maybe not. You went for the heart.” Cleo laid a hand on her own. “In my book, heart wins. If they go with slicker? Their loss. Now, how about putting all this away for the night? We’ll have leftovers and a nice, fluffy movie.”

Clover had Ariana Grande and Victoria Monét singing about besties in “Monopoly.”

“You may be Sonya’s grandmama, but you’re our best friend, too.”

The air suddenly carried the scent of wildflowers in a meadow. A mix of sweet and spice, just drifting.

“Do you—”

“Yeah.” Sonya gathered her laptop, tablet. “I do. Every time I worry too much about an entity I won’t name tonight, I think about Clover and Molly and Jack, and the other six brides, and whoever else is here. I think about Collin and my dad, and this house. I think about you and me doing our best work and eating leftovers for dinner.”

“Me, too. Let’s go down. Since I fed Pye and Yoda before I came up, we’ll let them out while we get those leftovers ready.” Cleo glanced over her shoulder as she started downstairs. “She hasn’t used the litter box.”

“I don’t know if your continued success in that area is you, the cat, or the manor.”

“Why not all three?”

Halfway down, both their phones signaled a text.

“It’s from Corrine Doyle. An invitation to dinner on Sunday.”

“Same here,” Cleo said. “That sounds like fun. We’re saying yes, right?”

“We’re saying yes. Do some juju so my hair appointment on Friday doesn’t make me look like a freak.”

“Would Anna use a salon that does that?”

“No, but things could go wrong,” Sonya said darkly. “Maybe I should—What are you doing?”

As they walked into the kitchen, Cleo continued to wave her left hand over her cupped right. “I’m consulting my Magic 8 Ball. Outcome good. There, no need to worry.”

She decided not to, especially since leftovers and a fluffy movie hit all the right notes.

And as she settled into bed to read herself to sleep, she got another text.

Just checking in. Dinner meeting ran over. I am unsurprised by that. Are things quiet? If not, I can head up.

All quiet, but thanks. Worked late anyway, then practiced the presentation for Cleo. We’re fine here.

Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe you can practice on me. I’d like to see the presentation. If the quiet doesn’t hold, text me.

I will. See you tomorrow.

And what the hell, she added a heart emoji. Then smiled when he sent one back.

She didn’t wake at three, but she dreamed.

First came music. Mick Jagger couldn’t get no satisfaction. Then the voices, a man’s sounding shaky, nervous. A woman cried out in pain.

As the dream cleared, she saw the fire first, one set to roar in the hearth. Then the room. Her room, she realized. This room, though the walls were papered, and the paper patchy and faded.

But her bed, and in her bed, a woman—barely more than a girl—with her long blond hair tangled, sweaty, her pretty face pale, her blue eyes glazed.

Lilian Crest Poole. Clover, laboring to deliver her sons.

My father, Sonya thought, frozen in place. My father and Collin.

A man—barely more than a boy—knelt beside her, gripping her hands. His dark hair fell nearly to his shoulders, and his eyes, Poole green, swam with tears.

“It’s okay.” Clover turned her head toward him. “That one’s over. I didn’t know it would hurt so much! It hurts so much, Charlie.”

“We were supposed to have more time to practice. Weeks more. Fucking storm.” He looked toward the glass doors, where thick snow whirled. “We’re stuck, babe. And everyone else took off when they said this was coming.”

“It’s you and me.” She smiled at him as he wiped a cloth over her face. “You and me and our babies. Because there’s two of them, like I told you. I felt two of them. That’s why it’s early. We read all the books on home births. And we’ve got music.”

“As long as we’ve got batteries, you’re going to have music. All the ones I recorded for you. Hey, ‘I Only Want to Be with You.’”

“It’s crazy but it’s true,” Clover sang, then broke off with a moan, a sob. “Another one’s coming. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Charlie!”

“Take a hit, Clove, just one hit. I’ve got a joint right here. It’ll help.”

But she shook her head as she struggled to breathe through the contraction. “Not good for babies. Charlie!”

“I’m here, right here. Look at me, babe. I only want to be with you,” he sang as she let out another cry, as her head swiveled on the pillow as if to find some relief.

But as contraction built on contraction, no relief came.

“I have to push!”

“I see a head! Holy shit, Clove! It’s happening. It’s really happening.”

She pushed, and she wept; she fought, and she laughed.

And in blood and pain and sweat, delivered a son.

“I got him!” Tears rolled down Charlie’s cheek even as his Poole green eyes lit with wonder. “Wow, listen to him yell! Rock star. He’s really small, but he’s perfect. Look, we’ve got a boy. I’m going to tie off the cord, like we read, cut it.”

She held out her arms for the squalling baby, gathered him in. “He’s beautiful. Isn’t he beautiful?”

“You are. You’re the most beautiful thing in the world. You’re my life, Clove.”

“He’s our life now. Look at his perfect little fingers! Oh, oh, it’s not over!” Her body arched in pain. “Take him! Take our baby, wrap him up warm, Charlie. It’s not over.”

She shook with the next contraction, her body overwhelmed.

Charlie wrapped the baby, set it in a box padded with blankets and decorated with flowers and peace symbols.

When he came back to her, sweat ran down her face faster than he could wipe it away. And still she shuddered, shivered as if cold.

“I’ll nurse them, nurse them both together.” Breathless, she reached for Charlie’s hand. “Then they won’t cry.”

“We’ll plant the placenta with a tree. Our family tree.”

He dabbed at her face, held her hand while the baby wailed and the recorder played Dylan’s “The Times They Are a-Changin’.”

“Everything’s changing, babe, for us. We’re going to be free, you, me, our kids.” He brought both her hands to his lips, kissing them as she moaned through the pain. “We’ll grow our own food, and we’ll really open this house up to art and music and love.”

“I have to push. I have to push again. Oh fuck, oh fuck! It hurts!”

“I know, Clove. I know.”

“Tell me you know when you have to push a baby out!”

“Okay, okay. I see the head, and it’s coming. This one’s coming faster. Almost here!”

Sonya watched the birth of her father. She couldn’t say how she knew the younger twin would grow up as Andrew MacTavish in Boston, but she knew it.

The dying girl took him in her arms.

“Help me sit up some more, Charlie. More pillows. I can’t nurse them both unless I can sit up more. They’re hungry, and the first milk’s got all the good stuff they need in it. Help me, Charlie.”

He propped her with pillows, dried her face, kissed her, kissed the baby in her arms. “I’ll get our first. We’ve got two sons, Clover. We’ve got two baby boys.”

“So beautiful, so sweet. He’s already latched on. You kinda gotta help him find my nipple, Charlie. Yeah! Like that. Oh my God, it feels so amazing. I’m feeding our babies, Charlie. We’re a family.”

She smiled. She smiled, though Sonya could see the shadows in the room. She could see far too much blood on the sheets, the towels.

“I’m getting cold. I can’t believe it. I was so hot, but I’m getting cold.”

He built up the fire, laid a blanket over her.

“I can change the sheets, or at least take them off if I can lift you to the other side.”

“It’s okay. Look, our sons are sleeping. Can you do the diapers? I don’t think I can get up yet. I’m so tired now. Just so tired.”

“I’ve got it. You just rest. Holy shit, Clover, you’re a frigging goddess. I’ll bring down a rocking chair in the morning from the attic. I’m going to clean up our boys, then go down and get some of that soup you made. I can heat it up in the fire. You need to eat. I’m going to take care of you, Clover. Take care of you and our family.”

“Okay, Charlie. I love you.”

“I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. I never will.”

He used squares of white cloth and diaper pins, then swaddled each baby and laid them together in the box covered in flowers and peace signs.

He turned the music down, then took a candle and started for the door. “Soup, some of that bread we made the other day. And some goddamn wine. I wish I had flowers for you, Clover.”

“I have everything I need.”

When he left and the shadows in the room deepened, the girl in the bed turned her head to Sonya.

“I’m dying, so that bitch is coming. She’ll take my ring. The ring Charlie gave me. Get it back for me, okay? Get them all back.”

As more blood pooled on the sheets, Sonya tried to rush forward, only to fall back.

She could only watch as Dobbs came into the room.

“With your death in this hour, your blood feeds my power. I feel it rise, I feel it surge. And your only song becomes a dirge. Onto my hand slides the ring of this Poole bride. All others who come, I will cast aside.

“For all time, the manor is mine.”

As Dobbs vanished, Clover’s eyes, almost lifeless, opened. “My poor Charlie, my poor babies. I couldn’t stop her. You can. You can.”

Sonya woke on the floor beside the bed. Yoda nuzzled against her as she wept.