“A whole bottle? I wish I was there now because I bet that’s going to be amazing. And because I wish I could tell you in person, Sonya, you had a date with the sexy lawyer.”
Because she had to admit she wished it had been, she shrugged. “He didn’t make any moves.”
“Did you?”
“No. But he may be a client, and I’m already sort of a client. And he’s being such a good friend. I don’t want to mess that up. And God, Cleo, he’s so attractive, so appealing, so just, well, yum. I don’t want him to be the rebound guy. He deserves better than rebound guy.”
“Sonya, you broke it off with the cheating asshole over six months ago. Seven, over seven months ago. You’re way past rebound territory.”
“Do you think?”
“Absolutely. And you weren’t in love with the cheating asshole.”
“I thought I was. I was going to marry the cheating asshole.”
“Which would’ve been a mistake, because cheating asshole, and you didn’t love him. He didn’t break your heart, Son. He broke your trust and insulted you, and that’s way, way different. The client thing? Neither of you has a position of power over the other, so toss that one. If you want to make a move, make a move. If you want him to, let him know you’re open to it. You know how.”
“Maybe. First I have to get through tonight. It’s all in there now. All in the biggest pot in the universe of pots.”
“What happens now?”
“I put the lid on it, put it in the oven, and according to Winter MacTavish, I forget about it. For hours. Leave it alone. For hours.”
“Then your work is done.”
“Mostly. Mom gave me a recipe for biscuits, but I bailed there and bought Parker House rolls.”
“There’s no shame in the store-bought Parker House roll.”
“Good, because my nerves couldn’t take the biscuits. And Anna texted me earlier in the week. She’s bringing dessert. Thank tiny baby Jesus. And you, for holding my hand, virtually, through this process.”
“Next time, we’ll hold each other’s in person.”
“Wow, this is really heavy. I think I made enough to feed most of Poole’s Bay. And now it’s in there. Done. Don’t peek. Hours.”
“Now go for a walk with our sweet Yoda.”
“Good idea. Yard sale vibes heading your way.”
“Text me later, let me know how tonight goes. See you inside two weeks. Cleo, out!”
After she disconnected, Sonya caught herself reaching for the oven door.
“No, I’m not going to peek in under a minute. Let’s clean this disaster up, Yoda, and take that walk.”
As she started to deal with the unquestionable mess she’d made, she heard a mechanical hum.
“What the hell was that? Did you hear that?”
With Yoda at her heels, she followed the hum into the butler’s pantry.
“That’s the dumbwaiter, isn’t it? Oh shit, that’s the dumbwaiter. I … I think it’s coming back up now. Coming back up from downstairs.”
She clasped her hands together while the dog sniffed at the cabinet.
He didn’t growl, not even when she heard a soft thunk and the humming stopped.
“I have to look, don’t I? It’s my house, fuck it all, so I have to look. Then I have to deal with … I don’t know until I look.”
She stepped forward and, after a long breath, pulled the cabinet door open.
Inside sat a large serving platter with painted copper handles and rim. A dozen star-shaped flowers circled that rim, with a single one centered.
Carefully, as if it might explode at her touch, she lifted it out.
“Well, it’s beautiful. It sort of has a blue luster, right? It looks old, and…” She turned it over. “Jesus, it’s Limoges. This is hand-painted. Look here, it was a wedding gift. It’s painted on the back. For Lisbeth on her wedding day. June 12, 1916.
“She was one of the brides,” Sonya murmured. “I remember her name from the book. On the family tree Deuce did. I guess someone thinks I should use it.”
As carefully as she’d taken it out, she set it on the counter in the butler’s pantry. “And I guess I could. It’s too beautiful to just sit down there in storage.”
From her tablet, David Bowie sang “Right.”
Sonya pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Gotta overlook the creepy. I don’t know how, but I really have to do that. So, we’re going to clean up this mess, then take a walk. A nice long, quiet walk. And if that damn pot roast doesn’t completely fail, we’ll use Lisbeth’s platter.”
Chapter Seventeen
After dealing with the mess, after the long, calming walk with Yoda, Sonya peeked a couple of times. But what amazed her was the scent. And the scent permeating the house was gorgeous.
It boosted confidence when she moved to a new stage. Dress for dinner.
She went with a navy cowl-neck paired with tights and booties. Then spent far too long working her hair back into a French braid. Which reminded her she had to make the firm decision about a stylist soon.
Doors slammed on the third floor loudly enough to make her jump and for Yoda to snap out a series of barks.
“She’s just trying to get us upset. So we won’t be. We’re going down. I’m going to make a nice charcuterie board. I’m good at that one.”
Picking up the dog, she rubbed her cheek to his as she walked. “We’re going to set a really pretty table. Something else I’m good at.”
As she reached the landing, the slamming became a pounding. Her heartbeat matched it, but she continued down.
“It’s like a tantrum, that’s all. A bitch fest.”
Outside, the sound of the sea became a roar, and a sudden, vicious gale hurled rain and sleet against the windows. In her arms, the dog whined and trembled.
She clutched him tight, maybe a little too tight as her pulse jumped and raced.
“It’s not real. It’s like the night with the blizzard that wasn’t there.” And still gooseflesh popped out on her arms.
Not real, not real, she repeated over and over in her head.
Something pounded against the front door, so hard she thought, for a moment, she saw the wood bow.
“She’s pissed, she’s pissed because I’m opening the house to people. But it’s my house!” She shouted it, and strode back to the kitchen.
On the counter, the iPad played “Don’t Worry Baby.”
Warmth filled the room, and what felt like … a presence.
She turned, half expecting to see someone behind her. Yoda stopped trembling, yipped, then wiggled to leap out of her arms. He danced in place, turned his circles, then sat and lifted a paw.
To nothing she could see.
“That’s supposed to be comforting. Reassuring. Maybe it will be when I’ve got my breath back. I’m going to set the table.”
Once she had, the pounding stopped.
Had she given up for now? Sonya wondered. Either way, the quiet soothed.
Confident there, she arranged the charcuterie, then slid the board in the fridge while she dealt with her mother’s final instructions.
Yes, it smelled amazing, she thought, and looked damn good when she put the meat on Lisbeth’s platter. But.
Carefully, she sliced half of it, then one more small, thin slice.
“We’re going to sample,” she said to the dog, who sat hopefully at her feet. “Half for you, half for me.”