The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-four

In the morning, with the men gone and Cleo sleeping, Sonya settled in to work.

She expected her first order of non-business business would come in a conversation with Cleo about the change in sleeping arrangements.

The idea made her smile.

Since she’d already dealt with her emails and texts, she opened her first file.

Dobbs might have disrupted her night, but she damn well wouldn’t screw with her workday.

And a bunch of pissy noises wouldn’t drive her out of her own home.

Banging on the wrong door, she thought, and started another test of the Gigi’s job.

At exactly nine-oh-one, she heard the ping of an incoming email. She nearly ignored it, but paused her work. If her client wanted another change, best to know now.

But the message came from Ryder, and Miranda Ryder’s assistant, informing her Ms. Ryder wished to arrange a Zoom call at Sonya’s earliest convenience.

“Shit, shit.” Sonya pushed up to pace.

Too soon for good news, she calculated. But maybe, maybe, they just wanted a follow-up. Like a callback? Or they had a few questions.

Possible, she decided. Not probable, but possible.

“Just get it over with, Sonya.”

Clover offered classic optimism in “Don’t Stop Believin’.”

“Right. It’s fine. Absolutely fine. It’s been a valuable experience.”

She sat, emailed back that she was available now or would make herself available at a time that suited Ms. Ryder.

Then she gulped down water, wishing she’d grabbed a Coke instead. Especially when the response came immediately with the link.

“I guess that means right freaking now. God, I didn’t think how I look!” Panicked, she grabbed the emergency video call makeup out of her desk drawer.

After a quick application, she took a breath, squared her shoulders. And clicked on the link.

“No music now, Clover,” she murmured, and entered the room.

“Good morning, Ms. MacTavish. Thank you for your quick response.”

“Good morning. It’s nice to speak with you again.”

Behind Miranda, the bookshelves held books, awards, photos. On a counter, and to the left of her shoulder, stood a vase holding an arrangement of white flowers.

“Again, on behalf of Ryder Sports, I’d like to thank you for the creativity and energy of your presentation.”

At the words, so cool and polite, Sonya felt her stomach sink, and braced for the kiss-off.

“It was a valuable opportunity for me.”

“As a woman in the first year of running her own…” Miranda trailed off. “Are you in a library?”

“In my home, yes. I work at home, and use the library as my office.”

“It is a turret?”

“Yes, it is. My uncle…” Too complicated, she decided instantly. And it only postponed the inevitable. “I inherited the family home in Maine last winter.”

“It’s very impressive. In any case, we’ve given your presentation and direction serious consideration, as we have By Design’s. I will say, those directions are divergent. You did an excellent job with yours, Ms. MacTavish.”

“Thank you. I can say, sincerely, I appreciate the opportunity, and enjoyed stretching into a creative challenge of this scope. I understand a company with Ryder’s longevity and reputation requires a more established team.”

“Do you?” Miranda offered the barest hint of a smile. “There are some who agree with that. I’m not one of them, and I’m not alone in my opinion. Or in the decision to go with Visual Art and in your direction.

“Congratulations.”

For two slow beats, Sonya’s mind went and stayed blank.

“You’re… giving me the account?”

“That’s correct. Burt Springer wanted to make this call, but I overruled him. He will, however, be in touch later this morning to discuss the terms. He feels confident you’ll come to an agreement.”

“Yes. I’m sure we’ll come to an agreement.”

Her brain felt numb. Her body felt numb. But she knew her mouth moved, as she heard her own voice.

“Thank you for your confidence. I won’t let you down.”

“I trust you won’t. Would you like to know why we decided to go with a freelance one-woman company in her first year of business?”

“I would, for a variety of reasons.”

“You respected the history of this company, and the family behind it, while looking forward. Without the history and the family, there would be no Ryder Sports, and no looking forward. In addition, Ryder Sports isn’t just for professional athletes, but for everyone. Your vision embraced exactly that.”

“My father taught me how to ride a two-wheeler. It was a Ryder.”

Now Miranda smiled fully. “Was it?”

“Yes. And I still remember that wild thrill when he let go. I think I’m about to feel it again.”

“It’s going to be a pleasure working with you. Burt will be in touch. Oh, one more thing? There are offices very near where Mr. Wise spoke with you before your presentation, and some with doors open.”

“Oh.”

“You won this account through your own merits and because we believe your vision aligns with ours. If we had opted to go with By Design, it would have been contingent on Mr. Wise being removed from the campaign. We don’t tolerate dishonesty and bullying at Ryder. We’ll speak again,” she concluded, and signed out.

Instantly Tina Turner banged out with “The Best.”

Still numb, Sonya just sat, staring at nothing, counting her own breaths.

When the numbness broke, she curled up in her chair and wept.

Cleo started her morning shuffle down the hall, and when she saw Sonya, it turned into a run.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Ryder,” Sonya managed as Cleo wrapped around her.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t know—” She broke off when she drew Sonya’s face up to swipe at her tears. “Wait, wait! I know that face. I know those kinds of tears. Oh my God, you got it! You got the account.”

“I got the account.”

Weeping with her now, Cleo dragged her up to embrace.

“I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of you. Tell me what they said. Everything. I don’t even need coffee!”

“They liked my direction—the history, the family, the everything.”

“You were right about that direction, from the get-go. That was your instinct, your insight, and you ran with it. You made it work.”

“I went numb, I mean like a full mind/body shot-of-Novocaine numb. Burt’s going to contact me about terms. Terms. Oh my God, Cleo!”

“I’m going to dance now.”

When Cleo did, Clover went with ABBA’s “Dancing Queen.”

“I’ve got to text Mom, and Trey, and oh, Corrine. Her photographs. Cleo.”

“Dancing!”

“Cleo, somebody heard what Brandon said to me. Somebody overheard our conversation, and it got back to Miranda. That’s who called to tell me.”

“Good.” Cleo stopped dancing long enough to shoot out a vicious smile. “I say that’s good. And don’t think for a second you got this account because of that.”

“I probably would have thought that, but she told me I didn’t. She said if they’d gone with By Design, they’d have stipulated he be removed from the team.”

“I like her. Give me thirty years to grow up into her. Text your mom, text everybody! We’re going to celebrate tonight. I’ll figure out how after coffee.”

“Would you bring me a Coke when you come back?”

“Can do.”

When she did, Sonya paced her office. “I can’t seem to sit yet. Mom’s over the moon, maybe three times over it. Trey said they’re picking us up at seven. Dinner at the hotel’s fancy restaurant.”

“I’m all in on that.”

“This isn’t how I thought I’d spend my morning. I was running tests, then I intended to stop them when you came out so I could grill you about Owen.”

Cleo’s lips curved in a slow, satisfied smile.

“I know that face, so things went well there, despite the disruption.”

“Oh, Dobbs can stick it. I’m pleased to say things went exceptionally well there, twice, before the disruption.”

“I thought he was going home last night.”

“So did he.” With a laugh, Cleo smoothed a hand over her hair. “I changed his plans. You’re okay with this, aren’t you, Son?”

“I love you both. I’ve loved you a lot longer, but I love you both. Still, if he hurts you, I’ll…” Eyes narrowed, Sonya punched her right fist into her left open palm.

“You know, Son, you and Owen have a lot of similar traits. Now, since it’s another gorgeous day, I’m going to put myself together and paint outside.”

Sonya picked up her phone when it rang. “It’s Burt.”

Cleo blew her a kiss and walked away.

Once she finished the call with Burt, she cried again. Then she washed her face, drank her Coke, and got back to work.

She couldn’t and wouldn’t neglect her other clients because she’d just netted the big fish.

Toward the end of the day, Bree sent her the finalized menu, with vendors for each dish, for the open house in an email attachment.

Bree’s message was:

Discuss again if you have to, but this is what you want. Gotta go out if you want a blowout!

Damn right they wanted a blowout, especially now.

She printed two copies, carried one into Cleo’s room to lay it on the bed beside what she assumed was Molly’s choice of a short, sexy, lipstick-red number.

On her own bed she found the flirty periwinkle with its low back that Cleo and her mother had talked her into buying in Boston.

“If not now, when?” she decided, and further decided the dress, and the night, called for her curling iron.

When she went back to Cleo’s room, her friend sat and slipped on her shoes. “Winter and I had it right with that dress.”

“You did. And Molly picked a winner for you. Did you have a chance to look at the menu?”

“I did, and it gets a big wow. We could probably have done it, in at least twice the time and with considerable headaches and anxiety.”

“Agree. So that’s the discussion. I’ll let her know it’s a full-out go. How’s the painting going?”

“I think it’s finished. Letting it sit now, and I started another. I’ll be down in two minutes.”

Sonya heard the front door open, then Trey and Owen walked in.

Both men wore suits. She couldn’t say why she found that so endearing.

Trey took one look at her. “Wow. If we didn’t have a reason to celebrate, I do now. You look amazing.”

“I feel the same.”

Owen’s gaze lifted as Cleo came down the stairs. Tilting her head, she crossed to him. “Don’t I look amazing?”

“You always do.”

“Clever man,” she murmured. “Man in a suit.”

“Only under duress.”

“Duress looks good on you.”

She ran a finger down his tie, and laughed when Clover played “Sharp Dressed Man.”

As celebrations went, Sonya decided this one topped her current list. A couple of sharp-dressed men, a restaurant with a stunning view of the water, crystal sparkling in candlelight, and the delight of a bottle of champagne.

“This is beautiful. Really beautiful.”

She tore her gaze from the view long enough to glance around. The white linen, the quietly flickering tea lights, servers in formal black, the whisper of music all combined in elegance.

“Trey figured pizza and beer didn’t hit the mark.”

“Not this time.” Trey lifted his glass. “To a job well done, a victory well earned.”

“Thank you. And here’s to all of you for playing a part in it.”

“Tell them about the bonus round,” Cleo insisted. “Son’s not petty enough to consider it a bonus, but I am. The asshole overplayed his hand.”

“I actually am petty enough. Someone overheard his hallway bullshit, and it made the rounds, I guess.”

After she’d told them, Owen added another toast. “Almost as good as a punch in the face.”

“I want to know if he tries to come back at you,” Trey reminded her.

“I will, but… I see him in a hot-air balloon, and the wind is taking it farther and farther away. I can barely see it now.” She narrowed her eyes. “You know, I think it’s sprung a leak, and look at those clouds! Oops, now it’s gone.”

She sipped champagne.

“He will not be missed.”

They drank champagne, ate perfectly prepared food.

“I can see why Bree wants these crab cakes at the Event.” Sonya offered Trey a bite. “I’ve never had better. They do a mini version, so that’s what we’re having. And their mini beef tourtierès.”

“What the hell is that?” Owen asked.

“I admit I had to look it up. It’s like a little pastry.”

“Fancy stuff,” Trey commented.

“We’re also having pizza bites, jalape?o hush puppies—”

“Now you’re talking.” Owen gave her another toast.

“RSVPs started coming in.” Cleo smiled, pure satisfaction. “We’re going to have a packed house.”

“Word’s going around.” Trey offered Sonya some of his salmon. “You’ve got the hot ticket of the summer.”

“And we’re going to do it up right. Cleo and I are hitting the garden center, and we’re going to meet with the florist. We ordered the party lights, but we need a couple of handsome handy men to help with that.”

“It’s always something,” Owen muttered. “You want that boat, don’t you, Lafayette?”

“I do.” Cleo gave him a lash flutter. “How long does it take two handsome handy men to hang some fairy lights?”

“How many did you get?”

Now she just smiled, said, “Mmmm.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“You can be bribed with meatloaf and sex.”

“Probably.”

“Definitely,” Trey corrected. “Are you worried about what Dobbs might pull with so many people in and around the house?”

“I’m trying not to think about it, but yeah, I do think about it. Still, when my mother came before for a couple days, things were benign, and relatively quiet.”

“I’m counting on the good energy outweighing her dark energy. Lights, music, people?” Cleo lifted her hands. “It’s what the manor was built for.”

“She won’t win.” Sonya spoke decisively. “Maybe it’s naive, but I feel like getting the Ryder account, and it was against the odds, means that just standing up, pushing forward counts. And maybe if—when—I go through the mirror again, I’ll learn something more. Some way to get the rings. I wouldn’t be here, Cleo wouldn’t, the four of us wouldn’t be here together if things hadn’t happened the way they happened. So…”

With a shrug, Sonya picked up her water glass. “Keep standing up and pushing forward. What?” she said when Trey just smiled at her.

“She doesn’t have a chance.”

“I can give you some time on Saturday for the damn lights.”

Cleo raised her eyebrows at Owen. “Without a bribe?”

“Oh hell, I’ll still take the bribe—no sane man turns down meatloaf and sex. But family doesn’t need bribes.”

“As much as I liked Clarice, you’re secure in the favorite-cousin slot. I’m probably going to regret this, but let’s order dessert.”

They lingered over dessert and coffee, over easy conversation. Then Trey rose to extend his hand to the man who walked to their table. Owen did the same.

“Good to see you. Sonya MacTavish, Cleo Fabares, this is Anson Miller, Seth’s dad.”

The first word that came to Sonya’s mind was distinguished . Flecks of silver dashed through a head of gold hair brushed back from a narrow, sharp-boned face. He had hazel eyes with a hint of green and a ready smile.

“It’s nice to meet you. You have a beautiful hotel.”

“Thank you for that. I had a dinner in the private dining room with some VIPs, and saw you when I came out. I just wanted to say hello, and don’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re not,” Sonya assured him. “Can you join us for coffee?”

“Thanks, but coffee at this time of night’s only for the young and adventurous.”

But when the server offered a chair, Anson took it.

“Just for a moment. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet the new mistresses of the manor. From Louisiana, aren’t you, Ms. Fabares?”

“Cleo, and yes, originally.”

“Anson knows what’s what in Poole’s Bay,” Owen put in.

“Got a little Poole in me, from way back.”

“Of course! On the family tree in Collin’s book,” Sonya remembered. “Ah, down from Connor and Arabelle’s daughter. Um, Gwendolyn, and, oh wait—Sebastian Haverton?”

Anson’s eyebrows lifted. “Well, someone else knows what’s what. Collin was a good man. I’m sorry we never had the chance to know your father.”

“He was a good man, too.”

“No doubt. I hope you’re both happy in the manor, and we—my wife and I—look forward to seeing it and you next month. Hospitality’s been my business since I was younger than any of you, and I appreciate when someone offers it. My best to your family, Trey, Owen,” he said as he rose. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Another cousin,” Sonya said when Anson left, and smiled at Owen. “You’re still my favorite.”

On the drive home she looked back and thought, yes, a perfect way to celebrate what was, for her, no small victory.

An elegant evening out, a respite from the routine she fell into—and admittedly embraced—a chance to dress up and share that celebration with people she loved.

It didn’t get much better.

And tomorrow, she thought, she’d dive right back into routine. Happily.

But when she looked up, caught a glimpse of the manor, she laid a hand over Trey’s. “All the lights are on. I swear every light’s on.”

“I see it.”

“She wouldn’t turn on the lights.” In the back, Cleo leaned forward. “If anything, she’d shut them all off.”

“I gotta go with Lafayette on that one. Dobbs goes for the dark.”

“That may be true, but they’re still on.” Sonya craned her neck as they came around the last turn. “Except the Gold Room. God, we left all the animals inside. If she’s—”

“Owen and I’ll check it out.” Trey pulled up. “You and Cleo wait here.”

“My house,” Sonya said, pushing her door open even as Cleo did the same.

“Pig’s eye” was Cleo’s answer.

They heard it before they reached the door. Barking, music, laughter.

“What the actual fuck?” Owen said as Trey opened the door.

They caught a glimpse—quick, but clear—of a boy as he tossed the red ball, of people dancing as music—Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance”—blasted.

They vanished, smoke in the wind. For an instant longer, one remained, the pretty young blonde with her fall of shining hair, her bright blue eyes. She flashed a happy smile before she, too, was gone.

The three dogs panted, and Yoda let out a sad little whine. The cat stretched on the newel post as if a hand stroked her, then leaped down.

“Bon Dieu de merde,” Cleo said, and laughed.

“Say what?”

She flicked a glance at Owen. “Holy shit. When I’m that surprised, the French comes out. They had a party!”

“They had a party,” Sonya murmured. “There were so many, but it was all so fast I couldn’t…”

“The kid throwing the ball.” Trey bent to pick it up, studied it a moment as if he held an alien object. Then he tossed it for the dogs to chase. “And Clover.”

“Yeah, caught her.” When Mookie won the race, returned with the ball, Owen gave it a toss. “And you had that right. Hot babe.”

“It—it was happy.” As the music continued, Sonya wandered the foyer. “And loud. I guess, maybe, they didn’t hear us? That sounds crazy, but given the circumstances. And now I wonder if they do this when we’re not here.”

“I think they were celebrating for you.”

Touched, stunned, Sonya turned back to Trey as the music switched to Whitney Houston and “I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me).”

“And there you go,” he said.

“So do I.” Cleo grabbed Owen’s hand. “I wanna dance with somebody.”

“Me, too!”

As she kicked off her shoes, Sonya decided this made it the perfect celebration.

So they danced in the light as the spirits of the manor had danced.