Once they came to terms that satisfied both of them, Corrine sat back, looked around the kitchen and great room.
“More little touches. The copper jar on the shelf, and that—is it rose quartz?—the raw hunk of crystal. Little pots of herbs on the windowsill. I especially like the blue ball hanging in the window. I think they call them witch balls.”
“That’s all Cleo. She actually made that ball.”
“Really?” Fascinated, Corrine rose to take a closer look. “Handblown glass? I didn’t realize she did that.”
“She knows someone who does, and opens up a few times a year to give classes. She took one, made that.”
“Apparently you’re both clever.”
“I can guarantee if Anna ever has a lesson day, Cleo would be first in line.”
“That’s an interesting thought.”
“Corrine … could I ask you about Johanna?”
“We were friends, close friends. More than that,” she said as she walked back to the table to sit. “She was a sister to me. I think our bond was like what you have with Cleo, so you understand what I mean.”
“I do.”
“I introduced them, Johanna and Collin, and watched them fall in love. God, we were all so young.” On a wistful smile, she closed her eyes. “I can see us so clearly. Jo helping me shop for my wedding dress, and a few years later, me helping her find hers.”
She looked back at Sonya. “Good memories—you should always bank those good memories. She was a teacher, and oh, she loved children. She and Collin talked about filling the manor with them.”
“Everything Trey’s told me says they’d have been wonderful parents.”
“I’m sure of it.” Her mind in the past, Corrine turned her teacup in its saucer. “She was smart, funny, very, very independent, and more than opinionated on certain issues. Women’s rights, physical and emotional safety for children at the forefront. She and Collin fell in love gradually, a slow dance, and both of them were content to stay single. Deuce and I, it was bang, there you are, let’s get started.”
Laughing, she shook her head, sipped some tea. “But when they got there, it was solid and strong. The wedding was in late June, in the gardens. Everything blooming and beautiful. I didn’t realize she’d gone inside, gone upstairs. I’ll never know why she did. If I’d gone with her…”
“No.” Sonya reached out, laid a hand over Corrine’s. “You couldn’t have known.”
“We didn’t believe in curses. The hauntings? They simply were, and fascinating by and large. No one saw her fall. She was just … gone.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It broke something in him, in Collin. In me, too, for a while. Then I saw her.”
“Here, in the manor?”
“Yes. In the music room where you put her portrait. I’d come to bring Collin some food, a week or so after her funeral. I went into the music room—we’d had good times there. I sat and cried for her, for Collin, for myself. And there she was, in the wedding dress I’d helped her pick out.
“She said, ‘Don’t cry anymore, Corry.’ She and Deuce are the only ones who’ve ever called me that. ‘I had love, and I still have love. Don’t let him stop living. Be here for him.’
“I said her name, and got up to go to her, but she was gone.”
“Did you ever see her again?”
“No, but I sometimes catch a trace of the perfume she liked, or just get a feeling. I know she’s here.”
Corrine sat back, lifted her hands. “I’m not a fanciful woman, but I know she’s here. Knowing that helped mend what broke in me. You finding her portrait, then putting it in that room, in that place? I have to believe that was meant.”
“I feel the same there. About both portraits. And now you’ve helped me really see her.”
“I think you’d have liked each other.” Corrine gestured toward the glass ball, the vase of flowers. “I know she’d have liked the little touches you and your friend bring to the manor.”
“I love this house. So does Cleo.”
“It shows.”
“Can I get you more tea?”
“No, but thanks. I’m glad you asked about Johanna, because you should know more about her. Now, I have to run a few errands before I head home. And,” she added as she rose, “I have some calls to make, a few arms to twist, and some planning to do.”
“If—Cleo says to say when. When I get this job,” Sonya said as she got up to walk Corrine out, “it’s going to be in very big part due to your photos.”
“Your concept, your design, but I’m not going to disagree the photos are going to matter.” She waited while Sonya got her coat. “So I’m going to make them damn good. I’ll be in touch.”
After she closed the door, Sonya did a quick happy dance that inspired Yoda to race in circles.
“I’m not going to jinx it, but I think our chances just went way up.”
As Clover played a happy tune from the library, Sonya grabbed a vest and a scarf to take Yoda for a walk.
No shadow today, she noted, and wondered who often stood there looking out.
Johanna? One of the other brides? Molly?
She could see Johanna now, beyond the portrait. She could see a woman who believed in herself, in looking out for others. She saw a woman who comforted a friend, and wanted the man she loved to go on living.
More good than bad, she thought again.
Looking over, she could see the back of the easel in Cleo’s front window. She kept Yoda close as she took a long look toward the Gold Room.
Nothing right now, she thought, but no doubt she planned something.
When she heard a car coming, she told Yoda to sit. “No running toward the truck. I think Mookie’s back. Sit, sit, sit,” she insisted, as when they both spotted Trey’s truck, Yoda popped up. “You just wait, just wait, and go!”
While the dogs greeted each other, the Gold Room window slammed three times. Nothing flew out, but Sonya kept an eye on it.
“You just missed your mother.”
“Passed her on her way down. So, she’s in.”
“She is.” He had a look in his eyes, she realized, and a hard set to his jaw. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just work. Can’t actually talk about it.”
But clearly it troubled him, she thought. That something in his eyes, something caught between mad and sad.
“If you want to put this off—”
“No. No, I could use the break.” He chin-nodded toward the window. “Has she been acting up?”
“Just now. Nothing much.”
Turning their backs on the window, they walked around the side of the house and toward the mudroom.
“Your mother gave me some really solid input.”
“Yeah, about that, the baseball thing. I was thinking you might want to use a kid.”
She offered him a guileless smile. “Are you worried you can’t catch a line drive?”
“I can catch a damn line drive. I played second right through Little League and into high school.”
“Second.” Holding on to guileless, she opened the mudroom door. “I would have thought first given those long arms and legs.”
“Manny played first, Owen played short. But—”
“Oh, so it was Poole to Doyle to…”