Yoda announced Trey before he rang the bell.
When they answered, he gave them a very slow, very satisfying blink. “Well, wow. I got nothing but wow.”
“We’ll take it.” Cleo stepped out.
“Really big wow.”
Sonya shut the door behind her.
In the village, Yoda reunited with Mookie, and minutes later, Trey pulled up in front of a Cape Cod near the bay with an enormous garage.
One toot of the horn had Owen walking out.
“Nice house,” Cleo said.
“Needs work, but it’s coming along.”
“A family of four could live in the garage.”
“It’s not a garage. It’s a shop. You look good,” he said. “Both of you. Manny let me know Bree let him know we were coming. He got us a table. Old times’ sake.”
No one brought up ghosts or ringing bells, so the drive to Ogunquit continued the normal tone of the day. Maybe it was just a lull, Sonya thought, but like Cleo with the wow, she’d take it.
When they walked into the club, she realized she’d missed this.
The movement, and the heat of bodies in motion, the crowded bar, the pounding music.
When she looked toward the raised stage, and the drummer, she realized she wouldn’t have pictured Bree with Manny, with his Buddy Holly glasses, goofy smile, floppy brown hair.
But the chef stood beside a table, hips twitching to the beat. And Sonya saw the goofy smile was aimed straight at her.
“Bree’s holding the table,” Owen shouted. “I’ve got the first round. Want your first and only lonely beer?”
“Yeah. I’m DD, lost the coin toss.”
“How’s the wine here?” Sonya asked.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“I’ll go with him. Got you covered.”
Cleo moved off with Owen as Trey led Sonya to the table.
“Woo! You made it. They’re killing it tonight.”
The chef wore skintight leather pants and a sleeveless top that showed off some midriff and a pierced navel. She had a tattoo of a dragonfly skimming up from her elbow to shoulder.
“Looking hot, Sonya.”
“I’ve got to say the same back to you.”
“Just you two?”
“Owen went to the bar,” Trey told her. “Cleo went with him. Nobody trusts Owen to order wine.”
“You’re right about that. I gotta dance.”
Bree ran out to the dance floor and joined a group of four who didn’t seem to mind.
“Do you want to dance?”
“Observe first, dance soon.” After sitting, Sonya turned to Trey. “Either they’re really good or I haven’t heard live music in much too long.”
“Could be both.” He trailed a hand along her hair. “This is new.”
“Takes work, trust me.”
He leaned over to kiss her. “Thanks for the effort.”
Cleo set a glass down in front of Sonya. “They actually have a very solid wine list.”
“One lonely beer.”
Once Owen set the beer down, Cleo grabbed his hand. “We’re dancing.”
On a laugh, Sonya took a quick sip, then grabbed Trey’s. “We’re dancing.”
She danced with Trey, with Owen, with Cleo, with Bree, with a few complete strangers. And forgot everything but the movement and the music.
When the band took a break, she met Manny, who turned out to be both nerdy and sweet. And when he squeezed into a chair with Bree, the nerd and tattooed chef looked perfect together.
When Rock Hard started the next set, Sonya turned to Bree. “Okay, Manny’s adorable.”
“He totally is. And he’s a monster in bed.”
“Bree, Jesus.”
Bree waved a dismissive hand at Trey. “Oh, shut up. You were no slouch. He’s no slouch,” she said to Sonya as Cleo laughed like a lunatic.
“He’s no slouch,” Sonya agreed.
To cut off the topic, Trey grabbed Sonya’s hand. “We’re dancing.”
* * *
After midnight, Trey pulled back up at the manor. Mookie and Yoda curled together on the back seat of the truck with Cleo.
“That was a night. I could become a Rock Hard groupie. You coming in, Trey?”
He glanced back at Cleo, then looked at Sonya. “I’ve got an eight o’clock. But—”
“You go home.” Before Sonya could lean over to kiss him, Cleo touched her fingers to her lips, then his cheek. “Yoda and I will say good night and thank you. Loved every minute.”
“’Night, Cleo.”
“I loved every minute, too.” Now Sonya leaned over to kiss him. “I like your friends.”
“I like yours.”
“That’s a nice bonus, isn’t it? Go home, get some sleep.”
“You’re sure you’re okay for the night?”
“We’re all good. We’ve got a nice lull going.” But she kissed him again, lingered over it. “Don’t get out.”
“Sleep’s not really that important.”
Laughing, she nudged him away. “Go get some,” she said, and opened the door. “You, too, Mookie.”
He waited while she walked to the door, let herself in.
Cleo walked back down the hall. “All the cabinet doors open in the kitchen and butler’s pantry. And this time, the doors on the buffet and server in the dining room, too. I think someone was unhappy we took the dog for so long.
“Someone,” Cleo added, “Yoda greeted by running in circles, then actually dancing a little on his hind legs. I think all is forgiven.”
“Good. Because I danced my ass off, and I want bed.”
“I’m there with you. In my own bed. That was so much fun,” Cleo added as they walked upstairs, arms linked.
“I almost forgot what it was like to just let go and dance my ass off.” She stopped outside Cleo’s door. “You’re the best friend anyone could ask for.”
“Who’d know better than you?”
“I mean it. You really didn’t like Brandon at all.” She drew back, met Cleo’s eyes. “I can tell, because you really do like Trey.”
“I really do like Trey.”
“Me, too. Good night, Cleo.”
In her room, she managed to clean off the makeup, slap on some moisturizer. She stuffed the red dress in her dry-cleaning bag, then pulled on pajama pants and a T-shirt.
Yoda already snored lightly in his bed.
She got into her own.
“Please, everybody, just one more night. Just a full twenty-four hours of quiet. I just want to sleep. If there’s more, save it for tomorrow.”
And closing her eyes, she dropped straight into sleep and stayed there.
Whatever passed through the room, whatever wandered the halls, did so quietly. After so many years, one night wasn’t long to wait.
Chapter Twenty-eight
She knew the lull couldn’t last, but it stretched through the next day, and into the following. She worked while a spring snow shower whisked tiny flakes outside that melted the moment they hit the ground.
And midmorning, she accepted an offer to design another book cover. That called for a celebrational Coke and a bowl of pretzels.
While she ran final tests on the Doyle project, she thought about her years with By Design. At this point in a project, she’d have other eyes on the work, and now she only had her own.
There would have been coworkers or bosses to bounce around ideas with or discuss solutions to problems.
Now, again, she had only herself.
She supposed a part of her would always miss the office camaraderie, but the trade-off? Trusting herself, her eyes, her instincts?