“I know, right?”
“It bears repeating. Wow. This is like … No, it’s like nothing else. Look at that staircase! The chandelier! The floors, the every-freaking-thing. I know I had a video tour, but holy crap, Sonya, actually seeing it.”
“I felt the same way. I think I’m sort of getting used to it, then I realize, no. Not really.”
“I want to see it all.” Cleo pulled off her hat, and her gorgeous hair sprang free. “Every single inch. And this is the murdered bride. Oh, Sonya, she’s so young and beautiful.”
As she took off her coat, Cleo stepped toward the portrait.
“He must have loved her, really loved her, to have this painted after.”
“And hanged himself as soon as it was finished,” Sonya added.
“Which is awful. Tragic all around. But she’s still here, isn’t she? Young and beautiful. So, where do we start?”
“Turret sitting room. Coat closet.”
She hadn’t started a fire in there, or in the front parlor. But in both rooms fires burned cheerfully as she guided Cleo through.
“I have to come up with better than wow, but I’m sticking with it for now.”
“Let’s take your bag up so you can see where you’re sleeping. We can go through the rest down here later. I picked out your room,” Sonya continued as they started up, “but you can pick another if you want. We got plenty of ’em.”
“You’d have to in this place. The library! Oh yeah, it’s just perfect. What a work space. I’m crazy about it.”
“Me, too.” Or it was making her crazy. Take your pick. “I’m on the other side, end of the hall.”
“Let’s start there, work our way back. Jesus, the length of this hallway! The color, that incredibly rich rose, the arches. Is this his art?”
“A lot of it,” Sonya said as they walked. “But apparently art runs in the family. I’ve found some signed Arthur Poole, Jane Oglebee—who was a Poole—a Leticia Poole Bennett, and so on.”
“Talent in the genes. And you’ve got double doors. Pretty freaking grand.”
Cleo nodded as she wandered Sonya’s room. “Collin Poole knew how to honor the history of this place, and live well while he was at it. And the view. I’d stand here and picture myself as the heroine in one of those old Gothic novels. You’ve got your own sitting room, which is both classy and adorable, and this very classy bedroom with a changeable painting for a view.”
She turned, grinned. “Score. Let’s see where you put me.”
“You’ve got choices.” Sonya led her back down the hall. “But I started with this.”
“A sitting room? Oh, look at the wallpaper.” Cleo traced a finger over a bluebird in flight.
“This is listed as Bluebird. The rooms have names.”
“Of course they do. This is just gorgeous. The little curved divan, those sweet lamps. And the bedroom. I’ve got a canopy bed! And a view.”
The sea view opened to a room of rich blues and deep roses with a fireplace, where Sonya had started a fire in anticipation, facing a bed with an open canopy draped in the same tones.
The white lilies and pink rosebuds Sonya had arranged in a slender cobalt vase sat on a long dresser with carved curved legs.
“I’m going to feel like a celebrity. A celebrity Gothic heroine. With her own adorable bathroom.”
“There’s another I thought about—it faces the forest, which is wonderful in its own way. So—”
“Uh-uh.” Smile dreamy, hands on her hips, Cleo turned in a circle. “This is mine. I stake my claim.”
To prove it she flopped onto the bed, stared up through the canopy at the ceiling.
“I can help you unpack.”
“Oh, the hell with that. Later. I want to see more.” She sat up. “Is there a creepy basement?”
“There is.”
“I want to see that, too.”
“You’re on your own with that. I really, really missed you, Cleo.”
“I missed you. I swear, it feels like months instead of a couple weeks.” She popped up. “Come on. Show me more. Then let’s pick a room and open a bottle of wine.”
Sonya showed her more, and felt even the dregs of anxiety drain at Cleo’s delighted reaction to everything. When they stood shivering on the widow’s walk, the snow began to fall.
“Imagine standing here, looking out, and not knowing when the person you loved would come home.”
“The Pooles not only built ships but sailed them,” Sonya said. “So I guess more than one stood here looking out and wondering.”
“I see what you mean about the forest. It’s magical. It’s all magical.” She wrapped an arm around Sonya’s waist. “My best friend fell into magic. I love this, Sonya. I love it for you.
“Let’s go have wine.”
They went down, opened a bottle. For now, Sonya noted, the iPad stayed quiet. And the cabinets in the kitchen remained closed.
If she’d imagined it all, maybe she needed to see a doctor.
They took the wine—Cleo’s pick—into the solarium to sit in the warm among the plants and watch the snow fall.
“Now.” Cleo settled back. “We’re just into our second decade of knowing each other. What’s worrying you?”
“Not nearly as much with you here. I think all this alone time in this big house started making me a little crazy. I love it, and didn’t expect to. I didn’t expect to be so determined to stay. I miss you. I miss Mom. Sometimes I miss living in the city. But I want to be here.”
“It’s yours, Son. And it’s not just a house, it’s your history, and generations of family. You’re making it your home. I can see pieces of you all around. Not just the library, though that’s all you now. You don’t love it just because it’s amazing, and it is. You love it because it’s you.”
“I’m a big old house on the coast of Maine?”
“Not the location necessarily, but yeah, the rest. You always wanted this.” Lifting a finger, Cleo ticked it in the air. “I’m not wrong there.”
“I did. It feels sort of strange to know I did want this.”
“When that asshole whose name I won’t speak unless it’s in a curse wanted to look at houses, you wanted something just like this. Smaller scale, for sure, but a house with history, with character, with quirks. All he wanted was a big fancy box with status symbol all over it.”
“You’re right about that.”
“I’m here until Monday morning.” Settling back, Cleo toasted both of them. “I know your mom’s coming up in a few weeks. And I’ll come up again. Trust me on that because I miss you. Plus, I love this place, too.”
“You could stay.”
“I’ve got a meeting Monday afternoon, so—”
“No, I mean stay-stay. Move in.”
Cleo’s topaz eyes widened. “Move in … here?”
“Why not? You can work anywhere, just like me. It’s only three hours to Boston to have meetings if you can’t do it by remote. Your family can come and stay anytime. At all. You can have that bedroom. Or you could take the apartment if you want more space.”
The words tumbled out in a rush.
“You know we can live together. We did it for four years in college. And it’s such a big house. We could go days without seeing each other if we wanted to.”