At the end of the day, she contacted Corrine Doyle.
“I’d like to talk to you about another job, maybe ask your advice, and hire you and your camera. Can we set up a meeting?”
“I’m free tomorrow morning. Since I’m going to be out anyway, I can come to you. About ten-thirty?”
“That would be perfect.”
“Why don’t you give me some broad strokes?”
“I’m working on a presentation. Ryder Sports.”
“I know Ryder.”
“I want to do some sports photos, but I don’t want to use professional models. I want real people,” she began.
By the time she got downstairs, Cleo was indeed in the kitchen. “I think I’ve got this. I hope I’ve got this. Chicken and dumplings, peas and carrots. It sounds homey. How hard could homey be?”
“Don’t ask me.” Sonya looked at the chicken in the skillet. “It looks sort of homey, and it’s starting to smell good. I’m going to buy you a really cute yoga outfit.”
“For making dinner?”
“No, so you can wear it, have Corrine Doyle take your picture—for my presentation. You like yoga, so you’ll look like you yoga.”
“This is for the Ryder deal? I have a yoga outfit from Ryder. I look awesome in it.”
“That makes that easy. I have to talk Trey into doing this—working out or playing ball. I need somebody who has a bike. And the intern at Doyle’s—he’s gorgeous—I want to talk him into doing one of the shots. I want different ages. At least one kid, at least one over fifty. I just want a sample. If I get the job, I’ll do more.”
“Say when, not if. Intention counts. Like I intend to make these dumplings and rock your world. Stay out of my way. Go put on some makeup.”
“He’s seen me without it.”
Cleo simply sent her a long, long look.
“Fine.”
She did what she was told, and started down again just as the doorbell bonged.
He brought flowers, pretty pink baby roses.
“Cleo gets the flowers,” he told her. “You said she was cooking.”
“Only fair,” she said as Mookie and Yoda reunited. “How about I take one of these?”
With a hand on his shoulder, she leaned in for a kiss.
“You can have all of those you want.”
“Maybe just one more, for now.” Then she waited while he hung up his coat.
Playing ball, she decided. Reaching up to field a baseball. She could see it.
She hooked her arm through his. “I have a proposition for you.”
“What sort of proposition? Personal, business, sexual, political?”
“You really are a lawyer. I’ll get to that, and after dinner, I want to show you what I’ve got going on your website. Over dinner, we’ll tell you about our latest incidents.”
Cleo’s voice carried out from the kitchen. “You boys can have some leftovers when we’re done.”
With the dogs watching her hopefully, Cleo looked up, dumpling dough on both hands. “A man bearing gifts. My favorite kind.”
“You get the roses, but I’ll put them in a vase for you. Those are dumplings?”
“They will be.”
“It smells great in here,” Trey told them.
“That’s all Cleo. I’m meeting with your mother tomorrow morning.”
“Oh?”
“Mmm.” She chose a vase from the butler’s pantry. “About doing photos for the Ryder job. I told you what I had in mind. The different action shots, real people. Cleo’s signed up for that. You’re next.”
“Oh, well, I—”
“You’ve got a ball glove, a ball cap?”
“Sure, but—”
“I think we want the shoes, too. One foot on base, maybe stretching up to catch the ball. I’ll see what your mom thinks. Do you have a bike?”
“Not since I could drive.”
“I really want a shot on a bike.”
“Eddie’s a serious bike rider.”
Sonya smiled. “Good to know. I want a gym shot, I think. A guy, maybe a little sweaty, curling.”
Without a minute’s hesitation, Trey threw his closest friend to the wolves. “Owen got his weights from Ryder.”
“Perfect. A couple kids playing basketball—a girl and a boy—an older woman jogging, or a couple jogging together. I’d like a football shot.”
“John Dee. He played in high school, and college.”
“Great. I’ll talk him into it. This is a solid start.”
“Good. Tuck work away,” Cleo told her. “Pour us some wine, set the table. I’ve got this dumpling thing going on.”
* * *
It turned out she did. When they sat, had the first bite, Sonya just shook her head.
“Where was this talent all our lives?”
“I cooked some decent meals before.”
“Few and far between.”
“It’s my job now. I’m kind of getting a charge out of it. What do you think, Trey?”
“Sorry, did you say something? I’m pretty busy here.”
She grinned at him. “Consider it payment for taking me to see Rock Hard. It’ll be fun to get out of the house for a few hours.”
“You practically just got here.”
Cleo gave Sonya’s hand an absent pat. “I was thinking more of you, Son. My girl tends to burrow.”
“I do. I can’t deny it.”
“Did you tell Trey about last night?”
“Not yet.”
That pulled his attention away from dumplings. “What about last night?”
“I guess we’ll start with that.”
Chapter Twenty-five
She told him about Cleo finding her walking at three a.m., then backtracked to finding the portrait, wove in Yoda’s ghostly companion, and ended with the bird.
“You forgot about Molly. Clover let us know, musically, the name of our housekeeper.”
Without asking, Cleo dished up a second helping for Trey.
“Thanks. That’s a lot for a couple of days.”
“Before I lived here, I’d have said it’s more than enough for a lifetime.” Sonya lifted her shoulders. “It’s not that you get used to it, but it’s more expected.”
“I’d like to see the portrait.”
“It’s beautiful. Since you’re the only one who’s seen her—I guess in person—you can tell me if my father’s caught her.”
“He captured the manor. I wonder why, if Collin bought the portrait, he never said anything. I know it’s not in the inventory.”
“Which begs the question, where the hell was it?”
“I have a theory.”
Sonya looked at Cleo. “Uh-oh.”
“I don’t think it’s that far out based on, we’ll say, the rules of this particular road. You said it’s as if you go through the mirror and into another time. There’s a school of thought that hauntings are just people out of their own time. Like a slip in time. Maybe this is a combination. And maybe the two portraits—Johanna and Clover—were, basically, on the other side of the mirror.”
“That’s interesting.”
Sonya rolled her eyes toward Trey. “Don’t encourage her.”
“It’s interesting,” he repeated. “A slip in time? Those portraits weren’t in the house, unless there’s a place in the house I don’t know about, Dad doesn’t know about. And regardless, both ended up in the studio. And now, the last two lost brides are in the music room. Collin painted one, your father—his twin—the other.”
He scooped up more chicken and dumplings. “It’s interesting. The bird flying out of the Gold Room’s another matter. Could you draw it?”