“It gets an hour a day.” Because she had a plan, and a schedule. “Which is enough until I pull it more together.”
“Just so you know, if you want to take more time for it, we’re not in a hurry. Now, what’s the story?”
“I went through the mirror again. Wait.” She held up a hand as he started to speak. “I didn’t call you because I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t. By the end, I was just furious, but not scared.”
“All right.”
“I sense you’re not convinced, so let me start at the top.”
When she finished, he glanced over. “She ended with poetry?”
“Yes, but like a spell or a charm? I think. I need to ask Cleo about that. But the fact is, someone I bumped felt it. Like I felt Dobbs that night.
“That’s interesting, to use your word. And it felt like I was wading through mud when I tried to run, to stop Agatha from eating that damn petit four.”
“Her death’s listed as choking, but sounds like poison.”
“It was anaphylactic shock. I’m nearly sure. I knew a girl in college with a peanut allergy. We were all out one night, and something she ate. It was really scary, even though she had an EpiPen. This reminded me of that, only it happened so fast, so maybe some poison with it. Hester Dobbs put something in that cake that caused the reaction.”
As it played back so clearly in her head, Sonya shifted in her seat to face him.
“She couldn’t breathe, Trey.
“She knew I couldn’t stop it—Hester knew. And that just infuriated me. Then I started thinking.”
He parked at the Lobster Cage.
“Is this okay for dinner?”
“Oh yes. I’d like to thank Bree in person for the recipe.”
“Hold on to what you started thinking.”
The same lovestruck hostess seated them in the same corner booth. He ordered wine, then nodded at her. “You were thinking.”
“It’s not her. I mean I don’t think it’s Hester Dobbs jump-starting these dreams or experiences.”
“Why?”
“Why would she want me to see, to have the details? It doesn’t give her any advantage. But it gives me one.”
He gestured to her when the server brought out the wine, chatted with her—an older woman this time—about her new granddaughter.
“Give us a few more minutes, will you, Dana?”
“You bet—but take my word, the lobster risotto is tops tonight.”
When she left them, Trey didn’t miss a beat. “Did you do sketches?”
“Yes.”
“I want to see them. And you’ve made a good point. I don’t see any benefit to her letting you see what she did, or how she did it.”
“How’s murky,” she said, but Trey shook his head.
“You’re an eyewitness, and you see and remember details. So I’m saying you’re right. Why would she want a witness? Do you want the risotto?”
“I really do.”
“That works. I want crab cakes.”
Once they’d ordered, he slid right back in. “I think it’s Astrid.”
“Why Astrid?”
“She’s the first. She was there, obviously, from the start. And since we accept she’s been in the manor since, she’d have seen the rest. She’s a witness, too.”
“That’s logical—in this illogical situation.” And it helped, so much, to have someone who could be logical, someone she trusted, to talk through it all.
“One of the details? I don’t think Agatha was in love with Owen Poole. Not like crazy, deeply. And she struck me as … I don’t think she was a particularly nice woman. More just a snob. I think he cared about her, but same goes—not the snob. He seemed warmer somehow. But I think it was what they called a good match, if you follow.”
“He remarried, under two years later. Pretty sure it was less than two.”
“About a year and a half—I checked. And he and his wife, Moira, had six kids and nearly five decades together. I don’t know if that matters, but apparently second brides aren’t in the danger zone.”
“One a generation.”
“Which means me. Or I guess any bride of my generation who gets married in, or lives in, the manor. It has to be there because Dobbs is stuck there, too. After my mother left Sunday? I went out to play fetch with Yoda. He’s getting the hang of it. The shadow I’ve seen, at the library window? I waved. It waved back.”
Because it made him laugh, she grinned.
“And right after? Hester started slamming the windows in the Gold Room. Very pissy. I gave her the middle finger salute.”
The way he looked at her, in just that moment, had her heart doing a slow roll.
“You’re one in a million, cutie.”
“I don’t know about that, but I know how to get pissy right back.”
When Dana served the mains, Sonya looked at her plate, then up at Dana. “I can tell you were right.”
“Never wrong.” She winked and left them alone.
“Tell me about the wedding. The one that didn’t end with a dead bride.”
“Please don’t make me. Fill me in on your weekend instead.”
“What’s one thing—no, two,” Sonya amended. “Two things that stick out, then we’ll close the door on your weekend adventure and move to mine.”
“The bride’s uncle Jerry got shit-faced, jumped onstage with the band, and belted out AC/DC’s ‘You Shook Me All Night Long.’”
He waited a beat.
“While stripping. They managed to stop him before he lost his pants—there were children present—but it was close.”
As she laughed, he tried some of her risotto.
“And for the second, I found the best man and the bride’s brother in an extremely compromising situation in the men’s room.”
“You walked in on them?”
“Lock the door, man.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes. “Use a stall. Rent a room. Before I could back out, they told me to congratulate them. They’re engaged.”
“Aw. Did you?”
“Congratulate them? Yeah, while my retinas were bleeding because I’d seen entirely too much of both of them, things I can never unsee. I said congratulations and got the hell out of there.”
“I hope those crazy kids make it. Your family has exciting weddings. I wish I’d been there.”
He studied her over a sip of wine. “You actually mean that. I worry about you.”
“I like weddings. They’re full of color and drama and joy.”
“And drunken relatives.”
“The best ones are.”
“Your turn.”
“My weekend can’t compare to yours. But there is my mother’s reaction to spending hers with ghosts. Which was surprisingly steady.”
She told him.
“It sounds like I had it right. You got a lot of your steady from your mother.”
“I didn’t realize when my father died how much she had to take on. You don’t think of things like that when you’re twelve. And by the time I grew up enough to realize it, it just was. She gave me stability.”
“It says something that she senses your dad with her.”
“What does it say?”
“That love, the real deal, lasts. The real deal gives you strength.”
“You must be right because I don’t know anyone stronger than Winter MacTavish. By the way, since she immediately and correctly interpreted my term dating?” She pointed a finger at him, then at herself. “She demands to meet you the next time she’s here.”