The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

They waited for Owen. Sonya had to give Trey credit for patience, because he didn’t push.

Then again, he never really did push, she admitted. And when he nudged, it was so subtle you didn’t realize you’d been nudged until you stood where he wanted you.

She considered that his superpower.

Instead of a push, he fed the dogs and the cat while Cleo put string beans on to steam.

They waited.

When Owen wandered in, all eyes turned to him. He stopped, frowned.

“What?”

“We were waiting for you.” Cleo handed him the fourth glass.

“Why?”

“So Sonya can tell you both what happened about an hour ago.”

“Before I do, I’m going to say it’s all part of living in this house. It’s part of my inheritance, and if I accept the manor, I take the rest with it.”

“Since I live here,” Cleo added, “the same.”

Sonya told them, then waited for the reaction.

“Sounds like you handled it.”

“She—they,” Trey corrected, “have handled it all along. You’re up there every day, Cleo. Nothing like this?”

“Not since she shut me in the bathroom up there, and went at Sonya in the library at the same time. I admit that scared the crap out of me. Other than that, just banging and shaking now and again.”

“Her dress was torn.” Trey looked at Owen.

“Fearless Jones.”

“Point being he damaged the dress.”

“So maybe we can damage her?” Letting out a breath, Sonya slid onto a stool. “I like the idea of some payback, but I don’t see how you hurt a dead woman.”

“We could try an exorcism.”

Sonya shook her head at Cleo’s suggestion. “ The Exorcist is classic, and a favorite movie of mine.”

“Hell of a book, too,” Owen put in.

“Hell of a book,” Sonya agreed. “But I’m not playing around with that in real life. Plus, if we did manage to evict her, wouldn’t she still have the rings? Maybe we’d be a lot more comfortable, but it wouldn’t necessarily break the curse, would it?”

Beyoncé sang out with “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It).”

And Sonya let out a half laugh. “I’d say that’s Clover’s upbeat way of saying I have to put the ring—or all seven of them—back where they belong.”

“Which she’s wearing,” Trey pointed out.

“Exactly. She goes, they go—or maybe. And I won’t risk the maybe.”

“It’s not just because you fell for the house.”

She shifted to Trey. “No, not just. I’ve witnessed what she did to women on what should’ve been one of the happiest days of their lives. What she did to the woman who brought my father into the world.

“It’s personal. And that, seeing that? Only more personal.”

“Collin left this place to you for a reason.” Trey skimmed a hand down her hair. “He never had kids, but his brother did. His twin did.”

“He loved this place. I’d say he left it to you because he figured you had the best chance of stopping her before the next bride comes along and makes it eight.”

Owen took a look in the oven as he spoke. “Hey, this looks good,” he added. “Anyway, I also figure he must’ve tried to do it himself at some point.”

“He did love the place,” Trey confirmed. “And Johanna, so I can’t imagine he didn’t at least try. He never said anything about it, but wouldn’t he have to try?”

“It has to be a woman.” Cleo spoke decisively as she got down plates. “What was done was done by a woman, to women. It has to be a woman, a Poole woman.”

“I hadn’t thought of it exactly that way,” Sonya considered. “But that sounds right.”

“I think it’s more than that.” Trey took the plates for the table. “I hadn’t thought of the woman thing either, but Cleo makes a strong point. A Poole woman, that follows.”

“I can handle these,” Owen said, and began to deal with the beans. “Not just any Poole woman,” he continued. “His twin’s daughter.”

“I was going to add some butter and herbs to those.”

“I’ve got it,” Owen told Cleo, then continued. “His twin’s daughter who can and has gone through the mirror.”

“And bore witness six times,” Trey finished.

Sonya got up to help. “It’s going to take all seven, isn’t it?”

“I think so.” Trey gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“Add one more element.” With one eye on Owen and her green beans, Cleo took the rest out of the oven.

“The paintings. It follows,” Sonya decided. “We need all seven brides. I don’t know what the hell happens then, but we need all seven. On the wall, and through the mirror.”

She set the bread on the table, then looked around.

Trey, letting the pets in, giving them treats to entertain them while the humans ate. Owen tossing beans in butter and something she couldn’t identify. Cleo arranging chops and potatoes on a platter.

Just a normal dinner with friends.

“I don’t know whether to be nervous or comforted by all that hasn’t happened yet. I do know I’m glad you’re all here.”

Clover added her presence as “With a Little Help from My Friends” played.

“And you, too, Clover. All of you.”

Owen carried the bowl of beans to the table. “What did you do to those potatoes?”

“I made them musical instruments.”

It took him a second, then he sat and put one on his plate. “Accordions. Cool. Let’s see how they play.”

They played very well and added to an easy dinner at home. At Cleo’s suggestion, they had a glass of post-dinner wine in the solarium.

“When I finish my mermaid project, I want to find out more about all these plants. Look, Son, we got more blooming.”

“We’ll both find out more. I need to spend more time in here anyway. It’s so pretty, and it’s nice on an evening like this. I’ve popped in to water, but they never seem to need it.”

“Same here. Everything’s always thriving.”

“I wonder if Molly handles this, too.”

Clover answered that with “Eleanor Rigby.”

“Eleanor.” Sonya leaned her head against Trey’s shoulder. “I wonder what happened to Eleanor. I hope she was happy here.”

“I think anyone who wasn’t wouldn’t spend their afterlife taking care of plants, or making beds, playing with dogs.”

“And cat.” Cleo lifted her glass to Trey. “And I agree. If you put all things Dobbs aside, this has been a good house for a couple hundred years.”

“Here’s a thought.” With Jones sprawled beside him and Pye curled in his lap, Owen stretched out his legs. “Do they all know each other? They’re all not from the same time frame, right? Do they have like ghost meetings? Holiday parties?”

“That’s actually not a completely stupid question.”

Owen only grinned at Cleo, and scratched the cat between the ears.

“I’m going with aware, at least aware of each other. And maybe time frames don’t matter so much after death,” Trey added with a shrug. “I think place matters more. They had to die here. Of course, that’s applying the logical to what should be illogical.”

“We’re living in the illogical—or what used to be illogical for me,” Sonya pointed out. “And I really hope they have holiday parties.”

“Clover’d bring the music.”

Sonya grinned at Cleo. “Wouldn’t she? And I agree about place over time. We’ve all seen Dobbs now. Trey’s seen Clover three times. I caught a glimpse of Jack, and I really think it’s Molly in the window of my bedroom. Cleo’s seen her in the window, too. Just the shadow, the silhouette, but it’s real.”

“Add the guy with a cigar in Collin’s office for me, and the woman on the widow’s walk. But I’ve been coming around the manor since I was a kid.

“You, too,” he said to Owen.

“Sure. Heard the doors opening and closing, all that kind of thing. No Dobbs until recently. If it’s Molly up in the window, then yeah, caught sight of her a few times. And once…”

He trailed off, drank some wine.

“Keep going,” Cleo insisted.

“I brought Collin up an order of books from the bookstore. I saw this guy raking leaves. Older guy, little gray beard. He stopped a minute, tipped his cap. He was wearing one, so I waved and went in. I asked Collin when he’d hired the new guy to deal with the lawn. He just laughed. He said, like, ‘Oh, he’s been around awhile.’”

“And,” Cleo prompted.

“When I left, I went looking for him. I wanted to give him my number in case he needed something, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.”

“You never mentioned that.”

He shrugged at Trey. “Didn’t think much of it. It was just a couple months before Collin died. Then it hit me. There wasn’t any truck or car up there. Just Collin’s.”

“Raking leaves,” Sonya murmured. “I wonder if that’s who filled the log holders for the wood-burning fireplaces over the winter.”

Always helpful, Clover answered with music.

“Barenaked Ladies—nice choice,” Owen decided. “‘Jerome.’”

“Jerome. Well, here’s to Jerome, who spared me from hauling wood so I’d have a warm, cheerful office to work in.”

“I’ll go one better.” Cleo raised her glass. “Here’s to the staff of Lost Bride Manor. They take loyalty to a whole new level.”

At three, Sonya turned toward Trey, and in the quiet wash of moonlight, saw him watching her.

“I hear it,” she murmured. “But that’s all. I hear it, but none of it’s her.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep.”

Outside, Cleo stood with Owen and stared at the seawall. Seconds before, she’d watched Dobbs leap off.

“Satisfied?” Owen asked her.

“Yeah. She didn’t see us, you had that right. And no tear in her dress. I needed to see for myself. What happened there happened there in 1806.”

“And we don’t need a magic mirror to see it.”

“I wonder if you could always see it, or if we can now because Sonya’s here, because she’s made this place hers. I guess that doesn’t matter much.”

She rubbed her arms. “It’s cold. Let’s go in.”

“She died out here, on the rocks.” Owen opened the entrance door. “She didn’t die in the house, not even on the property technically. So how is she in the house?”

“She did something to make sure of it before she jumped.”

As they walked up the stairs, Cleo lifted her hands.

“I don’t know what, but she had to be sure of it. The whole point was being here, forever, and killing a bride every generation. She missed with Patricia. Did that gap add to her power or detract from it?

“Something to think about.”

When they reached her bedroom door, Owen gave her a long, silent look. Cleo didn’t need words to read it.

“Still under consideration,” she said, and went inside.

In the morning, Sonya came down first. Or so she thought, until she saw Owen in the kitchen.

“You’re an early riser.”

“Jones is. Then the cat came in and jumped on my chest. She got pretty insistent.”

He shuffled aside so she could get to the coffee machine, and let out the two dogs who’d trailed her downstairs.

“That screwed any idea of sleeping in some.”

He waited until she had coffee in her hand.

“So, what do you think about omelets?”

“That I like to eat them, and don’t have a clue how to make them.”

“I was afraid of that. I have a clue. Mine aren’t pretty, but they’re relatively tasty.”

Sonya drank more coffee. “I can make toast to go with them. Trey should be down in a minute. And Cleo won’t be too long. She told me she’d set an alarm so we could get started on finding what we need for The Event.”

“I’m going to do that bacon-in-the-oven thing she does. That takes twenty, so she might make it. If she doesn’t, she’ll have to make her own omelet.”

While he dealt with the bacon, she filled the pet bowls. Then watched him hunt in the refrigerator for cheese, eggs, butter.

“Owen?”

He grunted, found a bowl.

“You’re my favorite cousin.”

His lips curved as he worked. “How many you got?”

“Well, there’s the one I found naked under my at-that-time fiancé.”

“So I scaled a low bar.”

“She has a brother, and I like him fine. He moved to Atlanta so I don’t see him much, but I like him fine.”

“Proximity’s lifted me over that second bar.”

“Not just that. Then again, I haven’t met the rest of my Poole cous ins. One of them may knock you out of first place. Do you think they’ll come to the open house?”

“Maybe. The ones who can, anyway. Cathy and Cole are in Europe, so not likely. Connor travels for the business a lot, so he’d be a maybe. My brother Hugh’s in New York, but he’d make the trip, depending on his schedule. I figure Clarice and Mike will come by at least.”

“So many.”

“More, but they’re all scattered.”

“More. It’s strange to have so much family I knew nothing about. Same for all of you. You didn’t know about me.”

He shot her a look as he started whisking eggs. “We know now. Cheese omelets,” he said when Trey walked in. “Bacon and toast on the side.”

“Sounds good. Look, if lunch happens, I’ll handle that.”

“You’re going to cook?”

Owen set the eggs aside. “He means sandwiches.”

“I do. My fried bologna and American cheese slices sandwich is legendary.”

“And that’s no baloney,” Owen confirmed.

“I’ll take your word on that, since we don’t have any bologna.”

Cleo made it just under the wire. The omelets weren’t pretty, but in Sonya’s judgment, more than relatively tasty.

“You maintain your position as favorite cousin.”

“Good for me. I’m going to grab a shower before we start digging through storage.”

“I thought you wanted to use the gym.”

“I got a quick workout in before you came down. We starting up or down?”

“Let’s start down, but not scary basement down.” Sonya drained the rest of her coffee. “Ever again.”

“Then I’ll meet you back down here.”

Cleo watched him go. “He worked out and made omelets? How early does he get up?”

Trey considered. “I figure if Owen lived on a farm, he’d wake up the rooster.”

Cleo pondered over her coffee. “That’s a problem. Anyway, we have a list.”

“We like lists,” Sonya concurred. And deciding to give Molly a Saturday break, rose to deal with the dishes.

“Not a problem. What’s on it?”

Cleo took out her phone, hit her app, and began to reel them off. “Folding tables and chairs. Potential deck or lawn furniture, planters and/or pots for the deck.”

As the list continued, Trey got up to help Sonya.

“Have you considered the convenience of paper and plastic plates and glasses?”

“An Event, Trey,” Sonya reminded him. “Not a let’s-throw-some-burgers-on-the-grill gathering.”

“I stand corrected. Let’s try this: Hire help.”

“On the list.” Cleo rose to pitch in.

Hair still damp from his shower, Owen came in. “Molly, I guess, made my bed, and put my jeans and sweatshirt on it. Like here, wear these.”

Sonya just smiled. “She’ll do that.”

“It’s weird, the clothes thing’s weird.”

“You’ll get used to it. And if you didn’t, make sure you thank her next time.” Cleo held up the list on her phone. “Let’s get started.”

They went down to the storage area that had once been part of the servants’ wing.

In under five minutes, Cleo dug out a treasure.

“Son, look at these—I guess they’re urns. They could be planters, couldn’t they? They look like rusted metal, in a good way, but they’re stone.”

“I love the pedestal, the classical style. Oh, wouldn’t they look great flanking the front entrance, those fabulous doors? We could try it.”

Resigned, Owen looked at Trey. “This is going to take a while.”

“Tables.” Trey made his way through to the back wall, pointed to a stack of them. “Folding. I thought I remembered these.”

“Those are perfect. How many are there?” After a quick count, Sonya nodded. “Five. Good start.”

Owen crouched down. “You know what these are? They’re field tables. Military field tables. They’re old, man. In good shape, though.”

“Can we set one up? They look right,” Sonya said, “but they have to be sturdy.”

“Some chairs here.” After she called out, Cleo lifted one, unfolded it. “Old but sturdy. Not enough, but another good start.”

“We need to test them. If any of them need a little work”—Sonya glanced over at Owen—“maybe?”

“The lawyer can handle simple repairs.”

Within an hour they had a collection of tables, chairs, two urns, a three-legged stool, and an assortment of vintage chafing dishes.

“Some of these are silver, some are copper, but there’s no sign of tarnishing.” Sonya ran her fingers over a domed lid. “I really hope Molly has help. I bet these were used for big parties, for weddings. I think…”

“Can’t say I paid too much attention.” Owen studied the assortment. “But yeah, they had this kind of thing set up in the ballroom for the one we crashed.”

“We’ll use them again, and Molly’s—or whoever’s—work gets appreciated. I want to go through the serving platters, bowls. Here’s what I’m thinking, Son. We rent the plates, glassware, flatware, but we use some of our own. It doesn’t have to be uniform.”

“It shouldn’t be uniform,” Sonya agreed. “Mixing patterns and styles adds charm. I say we keep going, keep knocking down the list. Same thing upstairs. Then when we have what we’re going to have, we move it into the apartment. Use that as a staging area.”

“You want to move all this up into the apartment?”

Sonya gave Trey’s arm a pat. “Not the tables and chairs. No point moving them twice, but the rest?”

“This is going to take a while,” Owen repeated.

The servants’ bell began to ring, followed by barking, hissing. And the lower basement door creaked open.

“Absolutely no.” With purpose, Sonya strode over, started to shove it closed. “God, need a hand. It’s like someone’s pushing it back.”

Trey rushed over, and over her head, gave it a hard shove. “Cold to the touch.”

“Fine. She deserves the scary basement. She can have the scary basement.”

“She can’t, cutie. You’ve got furnaces, water heaters, and more. The Gold Room’s one thing, but this is another.”

Owen pulled a flashlight off a shelf, switched it on. “Let’s go check it out.”

“Isn’t that just what she wants you to do?” Cleo pointed out.

“Why disappoint her?” Owen got another flashlight, tossed it to Trey. “Hang back here,” he told Jones.

Trey opened the door. “We won’t be long.”

“Oh, but—” And as the door closed behind them, Patsy Cline sang out on Sonya’s phone:

“Crazy.”

“You can say that again” was Sonya’s opinion.

Trey tried the light switch. “Light’s working.”

“Colder down here than it should be.” After turning off his flashlight, Owen looked around. “As clean down here as the rest of the house. Not even a stray spiderweb.”

They worked their way through the labyrinth of rooms.

“If Sonya’s not going to come down here, and she really isn’t,” Trey added, “she should find another place to store these tools.”

“Got some nice ones, and all clean. No dust. This old hand planer’s a beaut.”

“Take it. You know she’d tell you to take it. What the hell’s she going to do with it?”

“Maybe. I don’t like to just…” Frowning, Owen trailed off. “It’s not as cold now, is it?”

“No. You’re right, it’s not. Lights stayed on, and it’s warming up. Looks like she just—”

As it struck him, Trey broke off, stared at Owen.

“Well, shit,” Owen said an instant before it started.

On the other side of the door, all the servants’ bells rang in insistent cacophony. The doorbell bonged, bonged, bonged. Above, the ceiling seemed to sag as if from a great weight.

“Everybody calm down,” Sonya ordered herself as much as the barking dogs and hissing cat. “We’re all staying calm.”

As much as she dreaded it, she thought of Trey and Owen, then reached for the basement door.

The lights went out.

As Sonya dug for her phone and its light, it played “Psychotic Girl.”

“Tell me. Cleo!”

“Here. Right here!” As Cleo’s phone light came on, she let out a scream, rushed forward. Grabbing Sonya’s hand, she dragged her back.

“Behind you. She was behind you.”

The dogs lunged like a unit. As the men burst through the door, the noise stopped; the lights came on.

Dazed, Sonya fought to get her breath back as Trey rushed to her.

“ Let’s split up , they say. In every horror movie ever.”

“Are you hurt?” He stroked her face, her arms.

“No.”

“She was behind Sonya. The lights went out, then I saw her behind Sonya.”

“She’s okay.” Because she trembled, Owen put an arm around Cleo’s shoulders. “Everybody’s okay.”

“I could see her face, like I did in the bathroom mirror that day. It was just full of… well, damn it, evil.”

“The dogs went after her.” Steadier now, Sonya crouched down to pet all three. “And Pye, too, I think. Dobbs ran, or whatever her version of retreat is. Such brave boys, such a kick-ass girl,” Sonya crooned.

“She wanted to lure Owen and me down there, so she could go at you and Cleo here.”

“Yeah, but if she wanted to prove some point, we proved a bigger one.” Steady now and defiant with it, Sonya tossed her hair back. “She’s the one who ran.

“Okay?” she asked Cleo.

“Yeah, sorry for the panic. But she was right behind you.”

“So you ran right to me and pulled me away.” Crossing over, she wrapped around Cleo. “And we’re okay. Let’s pick out some serving dishes.”

They sent some up in the dumbwaiter, carted out more to stack in the kitchen.

The guys hauled the urns up and set them by the entrance doors where Sonya and Cleo deemed them perfect.

They scoured the upstairs areas for more.

“I swear every time I come up here, I see something I missed. Son, look at these chairs.”

“Love! Wouldn’t they be great on the lawn?”

“If you want them trashed after a couple rains. They won’t take the weather,” Owen told them. “You want to put something like that outside, you need teak, maybe cedar, larch, or something that’s sealed and waterproofed.”

“Oh. See anything? Furniture for the back deck over the apartment’s on the list.”

After a hunt, he came up with two Sonya/Cleo–approved chairs and a table.

A dustcover slid down and to the floor. “Somebody likes that bench,” Sonya decided.

“Somebody’s got a good eye.”

Hands in pockets, Trey studied it. A graceful curve of woven metal, it had a fanning back, arms, and sadly peeling white paint.

“You’d need a scour brush to take off the old paint, then pick out your color—waterproof metal spray paint.”

“See. Minor repairs. And…” Owen pointed over to where another dustcloth fluttered to the floor. “Somebody likes those chairs to go with it.”

“They’re great!” Cleo wove her way over. “Metal again, and the backs are like scallop shells. We could clean these up and paint them, Sonya.”

“They’d look perfect on the deck. We could sit out and watch the sunset behind the trees. Vintage, not new and modern. They really suit the house.”

“I remember those. Collin used to put them out just where you’re talking about. The bench? I think I’ve seen pictures with that bench in it. Wait.”

Trey closed his eyes, tried to visualize.

“His wedding. You flipped my memory switch,” Owen told him. “I’ve seen some pictures of him and Johanna on that bench. Wedding day stuff.”

“That’s it. Only they had it in the front. I don’t remember ever seeing it there, so probably just for the wedding. She’s in the white dress, he’s in a gray suit. And there’s one with my parents on either side. Mom’s got that on the bookshelf in the living room.”

“I’d like to see it when we’re there tomorrow. Cleo and I can bring the bench, the chairs back to life. Right, Cleo?”

“Absolutely.”

“Cleo and I can handle a chair each if you guys can handle the bench. We could just take them outside, leave them there until we pick out the paints and fix them up. We still have to hit the garage and the shed, but I’ll stop and get the keys to the apartment.”

As Trey and Owen got on either side of the bench, they exchanged a look.

“‘A while,’ he said,” Trey muttered.

With the women out of earshot, Owen risked a mutter of his own. “They’re going to want us to come back and haul down that darling piecrust table and that adorable plant stand.”

“Don’t forget the majestic ten-ton bench for the foyer.”

“I’m trying to. Why am I always the one backing down the stairs?”

“Your bad luck. Easiest way is take it out the back once we get down there.”

“‘Easiest,’ he said.”

They caught up with the women, who’d paused in the grand foyer to discuss bench placement.

“I know it’s a lot,” Sonya said as they continued back. “But every time we bring something down, it’s like making it more ours. We’ll take a break after the shed, promise. We could have a drink out on the deck.”

When she got to the kitchen, Sonya set the chair down with a clang. “Did I dream it, or did we pile a mountain of serving dishes on the island that aren’t there now?”

“God, you don’t suppose Molly cleaned them and put them all back.” Setting her own chair down, Cleo shoved her hair out of her eyes.

“She’s too smart for that.” Trey shifted his hold. “Keep going, Owen. Get the key to the apartment.”

“The apartment!” Leaving the chair where it stood, she rushed over to dig out the key, then ran outside with the animals flying after.

She unlocked the door.

It smelled fresh with a hint of orange oil. Cushions plumped, furniture gleaming.

The folding tables and chairs they’d earmarked were neatly stacked against the side wall. All the serving dishes were organized, according to type, on the kitchen counters.

“This is amazing,” Sonya murmured. “Just amazing, and so kind. Dobbs thinks she can scare us away with her meanness, her tantrums? Never going to happen. Not when we have others, so many others, who’ll do so much without being asked, without any of it expected.”

Clover responded with TobyMac and “Love Is in the House.”

Trey walked in behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, set his chin on the top of her head.

“Love’s in the house,” he said. “And the house is packed.”