The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-eight

In the morning, Winter, Melly, and Imogene took over the kitchen. They allowed any who wandered in to get coffee, then summarily booted them out.

Booted, Sonya listened to the mix of voices, a lot of laughter, and the occasional musical interlude from Clover.

While it wasn’t anything she imagined, she realized she wanted this, too. Wanted to listen to a group of women laughing in her kitchen.

With their own agenda, she and Cleo began dressing tables with the hot pink cloths they’d chosen. In lieu of centerpieces or formal arrangements, they placed pale blue mini mason jars to hold single fat, colorful blooms. Peonies, dahlias, hydrangeas.

They drafted whatever male came within shouting distance to haul out more tables, more chairs.

“Hey, all y’all!” Melly shouted out the window. “This big old platter just came up on the dumbwaiter thing. All by itself! This is one wild house. Breakfast in ten!”

They feasted in the dining room, with platters and bowls spread over the big table. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, biscuits, berries, hash browns, and grits, as Imogene decreed no breakfast complete without them.

Sonya crossed another want off her list. A big family breakfast in the dining room.

Then they got back to work.

With their delivery, they placed the portable bars according to Bree’s chart.

Sonya found the flurry of activity, the busy hands, the mix of ideas exhilarating.

When she saw Imogene and her gangly son-in-law hanging witch bottles from tree branches, or her mother and Melly designing a tablescape for the dining room, she wondered how she and Cleo had ever imagined they could do all of it alone.

A last-minute decision to add some conversation areas to the front had Trey and Owen searching through storage.

Then Bree arrived with two servers and the rented dishes and glassware.

“I got my outfit and all in my car. You got a place I can change after we’re set up?”

“Absolutely. I—”

She cut Sonya off with a wave. “Later for that. I need the bars stocked. Misty and Wayne, get cracking. Follow the chart. You’ve got enough hands around here to cart out and set up the plates, the flatware. You’ve got that chart.”

“We have all your charts,” Cleo told her.

“Good. I want to see what you’ve got out there. So, Tall Guy.”

“Ah, Jackson,” he said, and offered a hand.

She shook it. “Bree. How about hauling some of these plates out there? I’ll show you where once I see.”

She grabbed a carton of dessert plates and led the way.

“Okay, this is good. Looks good. Jackson, that table there. Under it for now. We’re going to do four stacks of twenty-five dinner plates, same with dessert plates. When they get low, servers will bring up more. Kitchen crew will take care of washing and sending more out as needed. Flatware—”

“We found these cute lined baskets.”

Bree frowned at Sonya. “Let me see them.”

While Sonya scrambled back for them, Bree worked her way along. “Hot dishes here, replenished as needed. Salads and whatnot, breads, rolls, your condiments. Desserts over there.

“This is good. You did good. This’ll work.”

Obviously satisfied with the arrangements, she paused.

“So who is everybody?”

“The tall guy bringing out more dishes is my father. The woman right behind him with I guess it’s dessert plates is my mother, Melly.”

“She’s got to be a foot shorter than him.”

“Fourteen inches as I recall. And there, the woman coming out with Sonya’s her mother, Winter.”

“Got it. Who’s the smoking chick coming out of the apartment?”

“My grand-mère.”

“Like grandmother? Hot grandma. You got some lucky DNA in there.”

She took one of the baskets from Sonya, studied it, nodded. “Okay, all right. These are nice. They’ll work fine. Hi, Sonya’s mom. Bree.”

“Winter. I’ve heard you’re an amazing chef and organizer.”

“I am all that. She got your hair. More lucky DNA. Okay—Wait, where are Trey and Owen?”

“They’re getting some chairs or benches or whatever works to set out front. A couple conversation areas,” Sonya explained.

“I’ll take a look when they’ve got it set up. So, here’s the schedule.”

Since she had it down to the minute, Sonya wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or terrified.

Bree approved the conversation areas, and Owen decreed all of it went back inside when the day ended.

They hauled, set up, hauled some more. And as intimidated as impressed with Bree’s efficiency, Sonya showed her coordinator a guest room, then dashed to her own to change for the party.

“She’s terrifying,” Sonya said when Trey came in. “I love her.”

“Given that, you must mean Bree. Nice dress, cutie. Really nice.”

“Is it? Not too much?”

She studied the look of the pale green dress in the mirror. Sleeveless, it had a square neckline she thought suited her, and an easy, fluid skirt that would dance around her knees.

“It’s just right.”

“You’d say that even if it wasn’t, which is just as well because by Bree’s clock I’ve only got ten minutes left. You’ve only got ten minutes to change.”

“Okay.”

“I hate that.” With genuine feeling she pushed at her hair. “Just hate that you can get ready in ten minutes. I was thinking about wearing my hair down, but—”

“I like it down.”

“Fine, settled, but now I need different earrings. What are you wearing?”

“Clothes.”

“Oh, shut up.” Laughing, she changed her earrings.

He went with dark gray jeans, a pale blue shirt, and managed to get ready three full minutes before her.

“I really hate that.”

“But you look amazing.”

He laid his hands on her shoulders from behind, kissed the top of her head. She turned, started to lift her mouth to his, then nudged him back.

“No time! I don’t know what she’ll do if we get off schedule, and I don’t want to find out.”

Grabbing his hand, she pulled him into the hall just as Owen stepped out of Cleo’s room.

“She’s still in there, fooling around.”

“No! She can’t! Schedule.”

When Sonya dashed into the room, Owen just shrugged. “She asked me which dress—she had two—and went with the one I didn’t pick.”

Trey only nodded. “Don’t be insulted, trust me. I’ve got a sister. Let’s head down where we can probably be useful.”

Bree, the general to the army she’d amassed, had everything under control. The vision Sonya and Cleo had imagined for the first opening of the manor came to vivid life with flowers, music, the glint of silver and copper and glass under clear blue skies.

Family came early, as requested, because family, as Sonya saw it, was the heartbeat of the manor. Guests arrived in a trickle, then a flood. And as she’d wanted, wished for, the manor filled.

She enjoyed seeing her mother laughing with the Doyles, and her aunt in deep conversation with Anna.

She split tour-guide duty with Cleo and Trey, and while the third floor stayed quiet, the servants’ bell for the Gold Room rang insistently.

She met more Poole cousins, and felt gratified they’d come. Though she’d been assured, more than once, they held no resentment over her inheritance, it relieved her to see and feel the lack of it herself.

Connor Poole Oglebee, head of sales, a big man on the cusp of fifty with a big laugh and deep brown eyes, drew her aside into the music room.

“An impressive gallery. Sad and beautiful at the same time.” He stepped closer to Agatha’s portrait.

“My branch of the family tree comes through Jane Poole, Owen’s twin, and the child she had shortly after Agatha’s death. Seeing this, the lost brides together this way? It makes me wonder what might have happened if Jane had been married in the manor. I’m here because she wasn’t.”

He turned to Sonya. “We’re both here due to choices made along the way. I’m sorry Patricia Poole made the choices she made, and glad—very glad—Collin did what he could to rectify those choices.”

“My father had a good life. Too short, but a good life, a happy one.”

“Yes, I believe that. I met his parents, and your mother. And you.” He took her hand. “Collin would like what you’ve done here, what you’re doing. He never took his eye off the business, even though in the last few years he rarely came in. But he guarded that legacy.”

He looked back at the portraits, scanning from Johanna to Agatha.

“I’d come here every four weeks or so, on the excuse of giving him a report. One he didn’t need, as he kept his eye. He guarded that legacy,” Connor repeated, “as he guarded the manor, another legacy. But this was more than that to him. It was home. Despite all its… quirks, he loved the manor.”

“So do I.”

“So I’ve been told. And so I see. You look after this part of things, and you can trust me, Clarice, and all the rest to look after the business that helped build it.”

She’d never thrown a party anywhere near this size and scope, and discovered just how much skill it required to engage with so many guests, individually or as a group.

There, Cleo’s talents outpaced hers by a mile, but she did her best, chatting with the mayor, the historical society, merchants, restaurateurs, teachers, servers, the police chief, the fire chief.

And took time to sit a few minutes with Lucy Cabot, who’d fostered Yoda, and Pyewacket.

“You have a very happy dog,” Lucy commented.

“He makes me a very happy human.”

“I see Owen built him a dog palace.”

Sonya glanced over to where Pye sat on its roof, the queen of all she surveyed. Out nearer the tree line, a young boy—around Jack’s forever age—threw the ball for Yoda and Mookie to chase. Jones, too dignified for such public displays, sat and watched with mild disdain.

“He likes it, but I think he likes it better when he has company. He’s a sociable dog.”

“He sure has plenty of company today. It’s a terrific party, Sonya. You and Cleo made an impact here.”

“We couldn’t have done it—and boy, do I realize that now—without Bree.”

“She’s a wonder. I’m still coming to grips with how perfect she and Manny seem together. Who knew?”

Rock Hard’s drummer with his flop of hair and Buddy Holly glasses kept the beat. And the chef with her flaming cap of hair and tattoos danced.

Danced, Sonya noted, with Sonya’s uncle, Martin.

“Well yeah, she’s a wonder.”

She rounded more tables, stopped by more groups. She sampled some dishes, sipped the manor’s signature drink. She danced with Ace—the man had the moves.

She told him exactly that.

He responded with a wink and a grin as he twirled her. “Men who can dance get the girls. That’s how I won my own darling, the prettiest girl in Poole’s Bay.”

When he spun her again, lowered her into a dip, Sonya believed it.

She remembered her mother telling her about one of her father’s dreams of the manor, of people strolling the grounds, standing on the terraces.

Like this, she thought, but this was the now.

She danced with Trey, held close, just swaying.

She thought he had the moves, too.

“Got yourself a hit here, cutie.”

Smiling, she looked up at him. “It feels good, and right and real. It may take me days to recover, but so worth it.”

Resting her head on his shoulder, she looked over at the manor.

And saw. Shadows, shadows at the windows. They were part of it, too—the good, the right, the real. Those who walked the halls, who built the fires and polished the wood. Who’d lived and died inside those great walls.

They weren’t alone in the house facing the sea.

And neither was she.

People came and went, some came and lingered long after the lights twinkled on in the trees, along the pergola, the deck.

She said goodbye to her grandparents, her aunt, her uncle.

When the last straggler drove away, Bree plopped down, kicked off her shoes. “Somebody get me a drink.”

“I’ve got you,” Owen said.

“And don’t be stingy on the pour! Manny lost the toss, so he’s DD and driving me home. Band’s breaking down, kitchen crew’s finishing cleanup.”

“I saw that myself,” Sonya put in. “And wow. They’re on top of it. Everyone’s been on top of it.”

“Biggest bash around here in God knows. They’re hoping you’ll do it again, and sign them up.”

“Done.” Cleo sat back with her own drink. “If you head the team.”

“I can do that. Thanks.” She took the glass from Owen, drank deep. “I worried we’d have some…” Bree sent a sidelong look toward the manor. “Incidents. But other than some of the crew’s phones playing when the band took a break, or somebody going to clear finding it already cleared—that kind of thing—nothing much. And nothing too spooky, I guess.”

Imogene sipped her drink. “It won’t hold for long, but for now.”

With interest, Bree studied her. “You’re pretty spooky, but in a cool way.”

“Best party I’ve ever been to,” Melly declared, “and I’ve been to plenty. I lost count of the number of jaws I saw drop when people got a load of this place, the spread, the sparkle. You girls did yourselves proud.”

“There was one thing.” Winter lifted her hands. “A man wearing a tux, sitting in a big leather chair, smoking a cigar. I passed by, and stopped. He said he’d missed parties at the manor, and was glad my daughter and her friend knew how to throw one. I said I’d bet it wouldn’t be the last time they did.

“Somebody passed by, asked me if I knew where to find the powder room. I told them, then turned back. And the man wasn’t there. I swear I could still smell the cigar smoke, just a hint of it, but he wasn’t there.”

“Okay, that’s seriously spooky.” Bree downed the rest of her drink. “And I’m heading out. No, sit, stay. I’ve got Manny. We’ll talk.”

Imogene leaned over to pat Winter’s hand. “He wanted you to know he appreciated the party. There were more who felt the same. Some watched from the windows. You saw them, Cleo. Sonya?”

“Yes.”

“A young girl in a maid’s uniform, so busy,” Imogene said, “helping where she could. Happy to. A little boy, such big eyes, watching the other children. The pretty thing from the portrait, Clover, with all that shining blond hair. So full of joy. And more. So many.”

Imogene sighed. “She watched, too. The dark one. So much rage. But the protection held, and held strengthened by all the joy, the energy, the life.

“But be ready. It won’t hold long. Now I’m going to put my old bones to bed. The energy won’t fade tonight, so sleep easy.” She rose. “You’ll need to.”

Sonya slept like a stone, gratefully. The morning brought more goodbyes, as Cleo’s family loaded up right after breakfast. Imogene drew her aside, gripped both of Sonya’s hands.

“I left you something on your big fancy desk. It’s an amethyst obelisk.”

“Thank you. I—”

“Now, I know you don’t set much store in such things.”

“More than I used to. Maybe.”

“Don’t matter a bit. The stone, the shape, it’ll help push out that dark energy and bring some calm into the place you work and create. You’ve got a big job to do, bébé , but you won’t be alone.

“It’s a good house, else I’d never leave my precious girl or you in it. But you’re going to fight for it.” She gave Sonya’s hands a last squeeze. “You fight for it.”

She stepped away, shook her head. “Let that girl go, Melly. I need my hug, too.”

“Just one more.” Melly squeezed Cleo tight. “Be as good as you can.”

“Sometimes I’ll be better. Y’all text when you stop for the night so I know where you are.” She embraced her grandmother in turn. “And travel safe.”

“I got that covered. We’re having an adventure.”

“Every day with the pair of you’s an adventure. Come on now,” Jackson urged, “or you’ll be goodbying till nightfall.”

Before she got into the car, Imogene looked back at Owen. “We’re going to have us a fais-dodo when you come down to see me.”

“I don’t know what that is, but I’m already looking forward to it.”

On a laugh, she slid into the car.

“What’s a fais-dodo?” Owen asked as they drove away.

“It’s a party. Are you planning a trip to Louisiana?”

He shrugged at Cleo. “I guess I must be, but right now, we’re hauling those chairs and the tables back inside. We’re due for some rain tonight.”

“I’ll help you put what goes where, then I need to head home.”

“Maybe you could stay another night.”

Winter slipped an arm around Sonya’s shoulders. “Not this time. My work’s waiting. Yours, too.”

So Winter bided her time until she wrangled Trey into helping her carry chafing dishes down to storage.

“I really like your family,” she began.

“Me, too. I really like yours.”

“Me, too. We’re lucky there. It was hard, so hard, on Sonya to lose her father that way, so young. She adored him.”

“I know. It’s easy to see when she talks about him.”

“I won’t say that loss defined her life, but it did influence her direction. Her choice of career. Her talent and interest led the way there, but the early influence played a part. This house? Her father was born in this house, and that matters. She always wanted an old rambling house, and I wonder if, somehow, like Drew, she just… knew.”

Winter jolted when the servants’ bell rang furiously.

“You don’t even flinch when that happens,” she murmured. “I can’t tell you how much that reassures me. You’re a steady sort, Trey, and she needs that steadiness. This past year turned her life upside down, so she needs the steady.”

“She’s got plenty of that herself.”

“She does. She really does. Looking back, I can see so clearly what I didn’t. Her relationship with Brandon, her gradually letting him run more and more of the show. She wanted family, to make her own, so she ceded little pieces of herself. Then he betrayed her, and she was done.”

“I won’t. If you’re worried about her and me, where we’re going—”

“No. That’s between the two of you. What I’m asking is for you to keep looking out for her—when she lets you. You have a way of doing that, and it doesn’t ask or demand she give up little pieces of herself.

“This beautiful old house.” She wandered as she spoke. “So much hers—I can feel it. And part of me wants to drag her out, and Cleo with her—lock the doors behind them.”

She turned back. “I can’t, and I hope I wouldn’t if I could. I worry less because Cleo’s with her, and together, they’re—”

“Downright awesome.”

She smiled. “Downright awesome. I worry less now that I’ve met you, met Owen, your families. You don’t need my approval, but you have it.”

“I might not need it, but I can value it. I do.”

The bell rang and rang. The lid on one of the chafing dishes began to rattle and shake. Trey simply put a hand on the lid to still it.

“Didn’t even flinch. I can head back to Boston with some peace of mind.”

After Winter left, and all the pets sprawled out in a post-party coma, Sonya dropped into a chair in the parlor.

“It’s so quiet. I almost forgot what quiet’s like.”

“It’s going to get quieter. I’m taking Trey and working on the Sunfish.”

Cleo straightened in her own chair. “When can I see it?”

“A week. Ten days tops. Or next month if I don’t put some time into it.”

“Go away.”

Trey pulled Sonya from the chair. “Dinner tomorrow? Anywhere you want.”

“Right here. My social battery needs some serious recharging. Thank you. Both of you. It was a hell of a good party.”

“Maybe the next thing to a fais-dodo.”

Because that amused her, Cleo rose, walked to Owen, gave him a long, smoldering kiss. “My grand-mère throws the best fais-dodos in Louisiana. Now go build my boat.”

“Let’s go, Jones.”

“If you need me,” Trey began.

“I’ll call.”

When they left, Sonya dropped into the chair again. “It was a hell of a party. They did a lot to help make that happen.”

“They did. Job well done all around. Now I’ve got an urge to work. Studio work. What about you?”

“I’ve got some work I could get done. How about we do that, then cocktail time on the widow’s walk?”

“I’m there.” Cleo rose again. “We’ve got enough party food left over to have a nice smorgasbord. Dinner and a movie?”

“And I’m there. Cleo? I know it can’t last, but the house feels settled. Like everybody’s taking a nice long breath.”

“I feel that, too. So if we’ve got some of that quiet time, we’ll use it. See you around five.”

Sonya went up to her office. She sat, and smiled as she ran her fingers down the smooth sides of the obelisk. Maybe she didn’t put a lot of stock in such things, but it couldn’t hurt.

Plus, really pretty.

With Yoda curling under her desk, she booted up.

Work she’d put aside sprang right back. Maybe most wouldn’t look forward to a working Sunday afternoon, she decided. But it suited her.

She laughed when her tablet geared up with the Young Rascals and “Groovin’.”

“Yeah, that’s right. This is my idea of grooving on a Sunday afternoon.”

She laid a hand on the tablet.

“I’m glad you got to meet Dad’s parents, and you could see how much they loved him.”

She caught the scent—wildflowers blanketing a sun-washed meadow. Closing her eyes a moment, she breathed it in.

“It made you happy. I can feel that. You carried him, you gave him life. They gave him a life, a really good life. Then he built a really good life with Mom. And me. So I’m glad you got to meet them.”

Opening her eyes, she smiled. “And it was a seriously kick-ass party.”

Clover went with “Party in the U.S.A.”

“Good choice. Suits my mood.”

An hour into the work, Yoda scrambled out from under the desk. She started to pause her work to let him out, then heard the bounce of the ball down the hall below.

And that, she thought, suited her, too.