The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-seven

The day before The Event, they had a foyer full of flowers. Cleo had a ham in the oven, and her fingers crossed. They’d put together a simple buffet menu for family in what they hoped would serve as a prelude to the feast the next day.

Every inch of the manor shined.

They arranged and rearranged tables and chairs outside, and lit countless candles and hoped that the forecast for the next day—sunny, low seventies—held.

Sonya hauled flowers upstairs to place arrangements—hours of debate on those—where they’d selected.

When the doorbell bonged, she nearly ignored it. Dobbs’s rumblings had been few the last couple of days, but that remained one of her favorites.

Then she remembered Yoda had gone down to the apartment with Cleo so she couldn’t count on his bark to tell her.

She opened it, found Winter.

“Mom!”

“I came a little early to help, whether you need it or not.” Scanning the foyer, Winter laughed. “Are you sure you got enough flowers?”

“Mom,” Sonya said again, and threw her arms around her mother. “You’re by yourself? I thought—”

“I convoyed with your grandparents, and they headed straight to the hotel. They wanted to unpack, settle in a bit.”

She wheeled her weekender aside. “Summer and Martin are driving with your other set. They’re all coming. Now put me to work.”

“I absolutely will, but let’s get your bag upstairs first. Cleo took flowers to the apartment; her parents and grandmother are staying there tonight and tomorrow night before they head back on their road trip.”

She started to pick up Winter’s suitcase, was brushed aside, so grabbed more flowers.

“I can’t believe they’re driving all the way from Louisiana and back.”

“Melly, Cleo’s mom, told me. They wanted to see some sights.”

“And according to the texts and photos they’ve sent to Cleo, they’re having a hell of a good time.”

“That’s the word,” Winter agreed. “Everything looks fabulous, Sonya. The tree in full bloom out front, that enormous rhododendron, they’re just spectacular.”

As they passed the library, Sonya’s tablet played Three Dog Night’s “Joy to the World.”

Winter sent a look back over her shoulder. “I guess you’ve gotten used to that.”

“Not just used to. I love it. You have to see the view from your room with the gardens blooming.”

When they went in, Winter walked to the window. “Talk about spectacular. You and Cleo did this?”

“A lot—most, really—was already done. The perennials. But we did the pots, planters, the annuals. I loved that, too. Who knew?”

“You’ve made a home, baby. I knew it when I was here before, but if I had any lingering doubts, they’re gone. And the squatter on the third floor?”

“That’s a good one. Squatter . We’re not going to worry about her. Why don’t I help you unpack, then we’ll go down and fix you a snack?”

“I’m here to help, not be waited on. I’ll unpack, and when I’m done, I’ll help you with that ocean of flowers.”

“All right. I’m nearly done up here. When you’re unpacked, we can start on the main level.”

When Winter came down, Sonya handed her a vase. “Casual dining table. I’m putting these three low ones on the formal dining table. Cleo should be back in by now, so we’ll start there.”

“Give me one of those. Now we’ve each got two. Something smells amazing.”

“Flowers, and we hope the ham Cleo’s doing.”

“Wonders really do never cease. Oh.”

Winter stopped at the music room. “Your father’s work again.”

“Yes. Johanna, Clover, Lisbeth, and Agatha.”

“It’s stunning and it’s all so strange. And yet, I can see him, I can see Drew standing there in front of the canvas with his palette, his brushes.”

“Still the One” played on Sonya’s phone.

“Yes,” Winter murmured. “He is.”

As they walked into the kitchen, Cleo was opening the oven to check on her ham.

“What! Nobody tells me! Put those flowers down and give me my hug. We’ve got a gallon of iced tea if you want,” Cleo said as she got and gave the hug. “Or we can get you some wine.”

“I’ll start with that iced tea. You’re making a ham.”

“A whole, big-ass ham.” Cleo said it with glee. “Bree said if I don’t screw it up, and there’s any left over, she can make it work for tomorrow.”

“The size of that ham?” Sonya poured iced tea. “There’ll be leftovers. I already made a card for it. Cleo’s Honey-Glazed Ham from The Manor .”

“Then I really better not screw it up.”

They placed flowers, then helped Cleo quarter potatoes for roasting. Cleo pulled the enormous glazed ham out of the oven, set it aside to rest.

They arranged a bar in the butler’s pantry, and worked on a colorful platter of crudités.

“I have to say it’s nice seeing you girls work together in the kitchen. I won’t worry about you going hungry.”

Yoda raced to the front door before Sonya heard it open. Then raced back with Mookie.

“Oh! Look at this dog! Aren’t you something! Look how Yoda’s introducing me to his friend.”

Mookie sat and looked up at Winter with eyes full of desperate love.

When Trey came in, Winter stopped crooning to the dogs and gave him a long, assessing look.

“Mom, this is Trey Doyle.”

“I’ve seen his picture on the law office’s website, along with this handsome boy. Winter MacTavish.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He took the extended hand. And he smiled. “I see you in her. I saw her father because I knew Collin. Now I see you, too.”

“I can’t look out for her anymore. Do you?”

“Mom, seriously?”

“When she’ll let me.”

“That’s a very good answer.”

The dogs raced; the doorbell bonged.

“I’ll get that.”

When she opened the door, it was Cleo’s turn to throw her arms around her mother. Then her father, then her grandmother.

In the kitchen, Sonya heard the excited mix of French and English.

“That’s Cleo’s mom, dad, grandmother. Trey, why don’t you get my mother a glass of wine? She likes the pinot grigio.”

“Sure.” When he went into the butler’s pantry, Sonya shot a finger at her mother.

Winter just smiled.

Melly came in first. She didn’t have Cleo’s stature, and her hair was true black and pin straight. But she’d passed on her eyes, tawny and tipped at the corners.

She hugged Winter first, said: “Mmm-mmm-mmm.” Then embraced Sonya the same way as Trey came back with a glass of wine.

“My goodness, aren’t you handsome? I’ll give you a hug, too, if you give me a glass of that.”

“Melly Fabares, Trey Doyle.”

“Well now, Sonya, I see your taste in men has improved considerably. Winter, look at our girls living in this big old beautiful house. I think it must take half a day to walk from one end of it to the other.”

When Trey brought in more wine, Melly kept her word, hugged him. “Mmm. Got yourself a good, solid build there, too. Jackson, you come on back here and bring Mama.”

“She’s taking her time with Cleo.” Jackson, a tall beanpole of a man, came in, offered his slow, shy smile. He kissed Winter’s cheek, then Sonya’s before shaking hands with Trey.

“Um, Jackson Fabares, Cleo’s daddy.”

“Trey Doyle. It’s nice meeting you. Can I get you a drink?”

“Wouldn’t say no to a beer if you got one handy. Something sure smells good in here.”

“Cleo baked a ham,” Winter told him.

“She did what now?” he asked while Melly let out a bark of laughter.

“She makes a damn good meatloaf,” Trey added, and handed Jackson a beer.

“I might just have to sit down. This sure is some place you got here, Sonya. Some place.”

Imogene Bea LaRue Tamura, long-legged and lanky on the cusp of seventy, stood inside the music room with her granddaughter. She had a mane of wild butterscotch curls that time had liberally streaked with white. She credited her remarkably smooth, dusky skin to the melting pot of her genetics, and a life well lived. Her eyes, caught somewhere between brown and gold, studied the room.

She wore her traveling jeans and a red T-shirt with low-top Converse sneakers of the same bold color. Half a dozen chains bearing crystals, an ankh, symbols of sun and moon hung around her neck.

On her right hand, she wore a wide silver band carved with the astrological sign for Libra, and a moonstone cabochon on her middle finger.

A widow for twelve years, she wore her wedding ring, a hammered gold band, on her left.

Her left biceps bore a tattoo of the fivefold symbol.

“They look out for you, these and more. And look to you, you and Sonya, these and more. This house is full, chère , sorrow and joy, blood and sweat, tears and laughter, as a house so long in years must be.”

Her voice, fluid and rich, carried the easy flow of her native New Orleans.

“This is a good house, a good, strong house, ma fille .”

“I know it, and feel it. But it makes it better and stronger to hear you say it.”

“Still, it holds a powerful, dark force.” Imogene glanced up as she spoke. “Greedy, and mad with that greed. It wants your fear.”

“Doing my best not to accommodate.”

Imogene smiled. “You got a head on your shoulders, my boo, and always did. I got some things for you. Your daddy—and I credit my girl for picking such a man as Jackson—didn’t complain, not one time along this way, about the weight of what I had him haul down.”

“He loves you, Magie.”

Imogene smiled at Cleo’s childhood endearment. “I love him back with cake and ice cream. Now, you take this.”

Imogene lifted one of the chains from around her neck.

“Oh, but that’s your special tourmaline, the one Paw gave you.”

“Now we’re giving it to you. It’s protection, chérie , and powerful strong, as it comes with love.” She hung the chain with its three thick black stones around Cleo’s neck.

“Love’s a circle, when true, never ends. A circle protects against what wants to bring harm. Hold your circle, Cleo.”

Imogene glanced back as Owen paused in the doorway. And her smile lit like the sun.

“Why, there you are! I wondered when you’d come along. You’re a looker, aren’t you, boy?”

“You sure are,” he said, and made her laugh. “You must be Cleo’s mom.”

On a laugh, Imogene fanned herself, fluttered her lashes. “I do believe I’m in love.”

As Owen grinned back, Cleo shook her head. “This is my grand-mère. Imogene Tamura, Owen Poole.”

“Get out” was Owen’s sincere response.

“Now I know it’s love. So this is Owen Poole who builds boats and ships. Building one for my bébé , I hear.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, there’s no ma’aming between us. It’s Imogene, or my grandbabies turned that to Magie. You pick one of those, and come over here and give me a kiss.”

Once he did, she slipped an arm through his. “Now, I believe I’m ready for a cocktail. Do you know how to mix up a whiskey sour?”

“I can learn.”

“Then I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Sonya had imagined it, and hoped for it. Seeing and feeling the manor filling up with family. Her mother chatted away with Melly, and now that her aunt and uncle had arrived with her maternal grandparents, Summer joined that chat fest. Jackson and her uncle had wandered outside with the dogs. With a glass of wine, her grandfather—an avid gardener—did the same.

At her grandmother’s request, Sonya gave her a tour of the house, or some of it, before dinner.

Louisa Bane Riley, a formidable woman, had let her hair go silver and kept it short, sharp as a blade. She wore glasses with frames of searing blue, discreet diamond studs, a straight-lined navy dress with white piping, and low-heeled Pradas.

As they toured the first floor, she made noncommittal noises, gave a few approving nods.

If Sonya knew anything, she knew her grandmother was a hard nut to crack.

But when they reached the library, Louisa stopped, held up a hand as she studied the room.

“Well.” The single word held her straitlaced Boston roots. “Well,” she repeated, and turned to Sonya. “You found your place, haven’t you?”

And the tension in Sonya’s shoulders dissolved. “Yes, I have.”

“I had my doubts, as I’m sure you know.”

“You’re nothing if not honest in your opinions, Grammy.”

“I am, and I had my doubts about the choices you’ve made in the last few months. You’re a talented young woman, Sonya, with an exceptional work ethic. I worried you’d made these choices due to your… unfortunate experience.”

“Was it unfortunate?”

Louisa’s lips curved, very slightly. “I have to forgive Tracie. She’s my grandchild. I don’t excuse her abhorrent behavior, but I have to forgive her. One day you may as well. Without excusing her, she did you a monumental favor. I dislike, more than I can say, that I was duped by that person whom I refuse to call a man. But seeing this, seeing you here, takes a bit of the sting away.”

Clover added her opinion by playing Beyoncé’s “Ring the Alarm” on the tablet.

“That’s… unusual.”

“Not around here.”

“So I’ve heard. I’ve never believed in that business.”

She brushed a hand over the desk. “Still. Your home is full of character and history, and beautiful things well cared for. By all appearances, you’re happy in both the work you’ve chosen and the direction you’ve taken with it. You’re my grandchild, and I love you, so what more could I want for you?”

“That means a lot to me, Grammy.”

“You can show me the rest later, as it’s clear that will take some time. I’ve barely said two words to the rest of your guests.”

The doorbell sounded as they started down.

“That must be Nan and Grandpa. Everyone else is here.”

Sonya answered, and went straight into hugs.

Her grandfather, big and broad-shouldered, her grandmother, delicate and petite. She felt her grandmother tremble, just a little, and understood this visit was bittersweet.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so happy to see you.”

John smiled, stroked her hair. “Got yourself a mansion here, little girl. It’s a whopper.”

“It really is.”

“I hope we’re not late.”

Sonya looked at her grandmother, the sweet heart-shaped face, the quiet blue eyes struggling to hold back tears.

“You’re not. It’s family.”

“Martha, John, it’s lovely to see you.” Louisa offered cheek kisses, then took John’s arm. “John, I’m more than ready for a glass of wine if you’ll take me back. The house is a maze, but I know the way. And how was your winter in Savannah?” she continued as she led him away.

Her grammy might be brutally honest, Sonya thought, but she also understood another woman’s pain.

“It’s a beautiful house, Sonya, like something out of a painting or a movie. You always wanted a rambling old house.”

“I did.” Sonya hugged her again, and held on for a moment. “I want to show you something.”

With an arm around Martha’s waist, she led her down the long hall.

“Oh, it’s so much house, isn’t it? And so beautiful. No wonder you’re happy here. We’re happy for you, Sonya, so happy you… Oh.”

At the music room, with the sound of voices rolling down from the kitchen, they stopped.

“Oh, I see. I see Drew in her smile. So young, so pretty, and she looks kind.” The tears came now, slowly, softly. “She would have loved him, loved them both. We would…”

“I know, Nan. Believe me, she knows you gave Dad what she couldn’t.”

The phone in Sonya’s pocket went with “Loves Me Like a Rock.”

“We loved him so much. Drew was such a loved and loving son, a loved and loving husband and father. I hope she knows what a good, good man he grew up to be.”

“She does, Nan. I’m sure of it.”

“So young,” Martha said again. “Sonya, could you give me a minute or two? I’d like to sit here for just a minute or two.”

“Of course. Just follow the voices when you’re ready. Take all the time you need.”

Alone, Martha sat, dried her eyes, then looked into the eyes of the portrait. “I wish we’d known about you and Charlie. If we’d known, we would have told him about you. If we’d known, we would have loved his brother just as much.”

As she struggled for composure again, the phone in her purse played “Martha My Dear.”

She jolted, then pressed her lips together. “I see him in you. Thank you for the greatest gift, the most precious gift.”

Pausing, Martha folded her hands.

“Drew was always a bright boy. Not always a good boy, but who wants that? Ah, he took his first steps at ten months, then there was no stopping him. He liked grape popsicles and Matchbox cars. And drawing. He always loved to draw and color.”

She cleared her throat.

“Once, he was only three, he got the crayons. Those big, thick ones? I’d put them up where I didn’t think he could reach, but I should’ve known better. He could climb like a monkey.”

She had to stop another moment, fight back more tears.

“He drew pictures all over the wall in his bedroom. I thought he was napping. Again, I should’ve known better. Drew was so proud I couldn’t get mad at him.

“John and I didn’t paint over it for years, and when we did, John cut out a section, and patched the drywall. And we framed the piece we saved. I still have it.”

She sighed, and when she drew in a breath, drew in the scent of wildflowers, like a meadow basking in sunlight.

“There’s so much more I could tell you. I wrote some out, some memories.” Opening her bag, Martha took out a manila envelope, thick with pages. “But most of all, I want you to know, he was loved from the first second they put him in our arms. He was loved. He was a beautiful boy who became a beautiful man.

“And he was loved.”

She rose, set the envelope on the piano.

She jolted again when the phone in her purse played Alanis Morissette’s “Thank U.”

Then she smiled.

Cleo’s ham proved a success, with enough left over to feed everyone again. Twice.

Sonya got exactly what she’d hoped for—an easy evening with family that blended well. She watched Cleo’s grandmother flirt outrageously with Owen, and Trey simply slide in with the various personalities as if he’d known them all his life.

“A much better choice,” Louisa muttered to her at some point. “But I’ll save my full approval until after I meet his family tomorrow. Something that never happened with that person .”

She patted Sonya’s hand. “He has honest eyes.”

They took a walk around the gardens, people and pets, with the lights twinkling just as she’d imagined.

When she kissed her grandparents goodnight, she saw no tears in Martha’s eyes.

“We needed this.” Martha gave her an extra squeeze. “To see, to really understand. I left a long letter for Drew’s birth mother in the music room, on the piano. Silly of me. I think you’d like to have it.”

When the rest left, and Cleo went down to help her family settle into the apartment, Sonya’s mother sat with Trey and Owen in the parlor.

Sonya walked back to the music room, but saw nothing on the piano.

Her phone told her why with Carole King’s “Child of Mine.”

“All right,” she murmured. “You have it, and I hope it brings you some joy.”

As she walked back into the parlor, Winter rose.

“I just promised these two a big pancake breakfast in the morning to get them started on what’s going to be a long day. This was the perfect prelude, my baby, especially for Drew’s mom and dad. They needed this bridge.”

“Nan spent some time with Clover. She left a letter on the piano in the music room, but it’s not there. So I guess Clover spent some time with her.”

“I may not ever get used to that, but I’m going to say good. Now I’m going to follow along with these dogs sprawled on the floor, and the cat curled up on that chair, and get some sleep.”

She bent down, kissed Owen’s cheek, then Trey’s before she walked over to hug Sonya.

“I’ll see you all in the morning.”

As Winter went out, started upstairs, Trey glanced at the doorway. “Well, she’s amazing.”

Sonya plopped into a chair. “She is. And this next stage of The Event is successfully done. So, Owen, you aren’t planning to run off with Cleo’s grand-mère, are you?”

“Tempting. She’s all that and an ice-cold beer. She’s got some stories, man, and knows how to tell them. Nice group. Your grandmother—the tall one—she’s a little scary.”

“Tell me about it.”

“She liked me.” Trey’s smile reeked of satisfaction. “She googled me, and decided I might do.”

“Oh God. Sorry.”

“I kind of liked her little-bit-scary style. An interesting evening to be a part of. One thing’s for certain: They all enjoyed it, and each other.”

Cleo came in, dropped down, said: “Whew!”

“Are they settled in?” Sonya asked.

“They are. My grand-mère brought us a box of about two dozen bottles. Witch bottles to hang. Good mojo. And some more white sage cones she made herself, candles ditto. A gorgeous hunk of fluorite, another of rose quartz, a pretty brass gong for when we meditate.

“I didn’t narc on you and tell her you never manage over ten seconds.”

“I made it to thirty once.”

“You’d been drinking,” Cleo reminded her. “Doesn’t count. She put crystals and candles around the apartment before she unpacked her clothes, and my father gave me a list of more plants he tells me we need. My mama just oohed and aahed over everything. She said to tell your mama she’d help with breakfast in the morning.”

“She’s gone up to bed.”

“That’s a damn good idea. I’m going to do the same.”

She pushed up, tossed her hair, then gave Owen her arched-eyebrow look. “Interested?”

“Am I alive?”

He got up, and so did Jones, then the cat.

“Job well done,” Cleo said to Sonya. “See y’all in the morning before a reasonable hour.”

“I’m still a little wired,” Sonya realized. “You might be able to help with that.”

“Bet I could.”

She pulled the tie from her hair, slipped it on one wrist as she ran her other hand through.

“You know what I noticed tonight?”

“There was a lot going on.”

“There really was,” she agreed. “But I noticed just how easily you slid right into all of it. Didn’t take you two minutes. You’re just good with people.”

“It helps to be when you deal with them on a daily basis.”

“Not just deal with. You like people.”

“By and large. Don’t you?”

“ By and large fits, I guess. I’m not shy, and I like the interaction. But I’m not sure how I’d deal if I couldn’t balance that with the quiet time. Which I like more than I realized I would when I worked in an office.

“Tomorrow? Really looking forward to it. All those people, all that interaction. But then, I’ll be glad to sock myself back into the quiet and the work.”

“Another reason this house fits you like a glove.”

“You’re right. It does. Everything, one exception, suits me to the ground. I loved showing it off to my family. Which gained me Grammy’s very hard-won approval. Louisa.”

“I got it. Grammy, Louisa. Nan, Martha. Granddad, Bill. Grandpa, John.”

“You would get it. And I expect, after meeting your family tomorrow, you’ll also get Grammy’s very hard-won approval, if that matters.”

“It always matters.” He trailed his fingers through her loosened hair. “She loves you. They all do. And everyone here loves Cleo. It doesn’t always work that way, believe me. But I know when it does. My family loves Owen, his loves me. It adds the special when it works.”

“You’re right about that, too. Now, about helping me smooth things out.”

“I’ve got some ideas.” Rising, he pulled her to her feet.

“I’m counting on it.”

She woke at three, wired again. But she didn’t feel the pull, felt no need to get up, to walk.

“Okay?” Trey reached for her hand.

“Yes.”

Still she nestled close to him as the chime of the clock echoed away, as the weeping drifted like the piano music.

She heard nothing from the third floor, and closed her eyes again, grateful.

It wouldn’t last, she knew. But maybe with so much positive energy, they’d get another day, another night.

Because tomorrow, no matter what came, they’d open the house, and fill it again.