He rose. “What kind of man would I be if I let you drink alone? What kind do you want?”
“It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t matter.”
“Leave it to me.”
“It feels like I’m leaving a lot to you,” she said as he walked into the butler’s pantry. “And you’re being pretty damn patient. Is that a lawyer thing or just part of the package?”
“Could be both.”
“It’s snowing, and you probably want to go home. Maybe to your beautiful wife and two adorable children.”
“I need a time machine for that. The wife—and that would be gorgeous—and two adorable—and you forgot brilliant—children are in the future.”
“Maybe they’re hanging out with my handsome, sexy husband and three adorable, brilliant children and our lovable yet frisky dog.”
“Three, huh? What kind of dog?”
“To be determined. Then there’s the cuddly kitten. And we all live in this wonderful old rambling Victorian—which was never going to be as big as this—my handsome, sexy husband and I will be renovating for the rest of our lives. But we love it.”
“Sounds pretty good. But I’ve already got the dog.”
“You have a dog?”
“Mookie. Lab/retriever mix.”
“Mookie?”
“For Mookie Betts,” he said as he came back with two glasses and a bottle of wine. “Multiple Gold Glove winner. Played for the Red Sox. They traded him to the Dodgers in 2020, but you can’t hold that against him.”
“I won’t, and I’m from Boston, so I know Mookie Betts. Thanks,” she added when he handed her a glass of straw-colored wine. She downed half in one go.
“Wow. Kudos.”
“Okay.” She let out a breath. “Why didn’t you bring the dog?”
“I didn’t know how you felt about dogs. I’ll bring him next time.”
“Good. I like dogs. I was thinking about getting a dog before … all this, because I wasn’t spending all day in the office. He’s probably a nice dog, Mookie, since you seem to be. I’ll like him. I like you. I like your patience and how you don’t actually look like a lawyer. Less intimidating. And I think I have a thing for blue eyes. I almost married a guy—asshole—with blue eyes. They weren’t as good as yours.”
“That’s a story I’d like to hear.”
“Maybe next time. Keys.” She sat again. “Jesus, so many keys.”
He went over them with her, then closed the box, nudged it aside.
“I don’t see any reason you’d lock up most of the interior doors, but you’ve got keys for the ones that lock. Collin kept a couple of files in his office of instruction books, warranties for the appliances. For everything. But if you need help with any of that, just ask.”
“Okay.”
“Fireplace in the master and other bedrooms are gas, but most of the fireplaces are wood-burning. Have you ever handled wood-burning?”
“Yeah, I’m good there. My mother has one. I grew up there.”
“Good. There’s the rack just outside, and it’s full of wood. You’ve got half a cord stacked back by the little shed.”
“That sounds like a lot. Is it a lot?”
“Maine winters are long. If you need more, you tell me or John Dee. You’ve got a log splitter, but you’re going to do me a favor and not mess with it.”
She swiped a hand over her heart. “I can give you my solemn oath on that one.”
“Anything I didn’t cover you want to know? Anything I did you have questions about?”
“I’m hoping I don’t forget half the things you went over, but I think I’m good. Or good enough. But I do have one question. Your father didn’t tell me how Collin died.”
“He fell down the stairs. The same stairs Johanna fell down nearly thirty years ago. He’d taken a sleeping pill. Just one according to the coroner, but enough to make him woozy. And some over-the-counter cold meds. He’d caught a cold, and it lingered. For whatever reason, he got up in the night, and fell. My mother had made him some chicken soup, and I stopped by to bring it and check on him.”
“You found him.”
“I did.”
For a moment she thought she caught the scent, just a hint of the aftershave her father had worn. Then it faded.
“That was hard for you.”
“He was family. So the way it comes down, Sonya, makes you family.”
“I understand he was family to you, and you to him. I don’t understand why he left all this to me instead of to you and your family.”
“He wanted you here,” Trey said simply. “Now you are. Personally, I think you’ll stay.”
“Why?”
“The manor weaves a spell. I’ve been watching it weave one on you. I’m going to leave you to settle in.” He got to his feet. “You need anything or have any more questions, you know how to reach me.”
“Take half the cookies. You more than earned them.” She took a handful out, gave him the tin.
“That’s more than half.”
“So share.”
She walked with him to the front door. “It’s snowing pretty good now. I hope you don’t have far to go.”
“I’ve got the third floor over the law offices. It’s not very far.”
“Handy. No commute to work. I’ve gotten used to that myself.”
“You’re going to hear John Dee and the plow before long. He might wait to blow off your walks until morning.”
“Either way, I’ll have coffee. Thank you for everything, and tell your father I hope he feels better soon.”
“You’re welcome, and I will.” In his parka, still hatless, he took her hand. “You’ll be fine.”
“You sound sure.”
“Because I am. Welcome home.”
“Trey,” she said as he opened the door to the wind and blowing snow. “Just one question. Have you ever actually seen a ghost?”
He gave her a long look and that quiet smile. “Yes.”
“In the manor?”
“That’s two questions. Same answer. She was on the widow’s walk dressed in white.”
He left her shivering in the doorway. She waited until he’d started the truck, backed out of the drive.
She closed the door, leaned back against it. And looking at Astrid Grandville Poole’s portrait, said, “Well, shit.”
The best thing to do—the smart thing to do—was go up, unpack, give that champagne time to chill.
She’d FaceTime with Cleo, call her mother.
She’d make something to eat—God knew, from the look of the fridge, the Doyles had supplied her with enough for a month.
She walked up the stairs, trying not to think two people had died on them, and down the long hallway into what was now her bedroom.
She walked to the window. And the view simply entranced her.
The blowing curtain of snow with the steel-gray sea behind it. That curtain hid the bay and the village. It closed her in.
But the fire offered warmth and light; the room smelled of fresh flowers.
She would be fine, she told herself. And she could be happy here if she gave herself a chance to be.
Opening a suitcase, she began the task of making the room hers. Clothes tucked in drawers, hung in closets. Cosmetics and creams in the vanity drawers, to be organized later. Her tablet sitting on a nightstand, charging. Her great-grandmother’s old silver-backed brush and mirror on the dresser along with three pretty little bottles she’d found antiquing with Cleo. And a fourth holding the perfume she’d indulged in post-Brandon.