Page 106 of The Seven Rings
Laughing now, Winter rose. “Let’s do that.”
When Trey and Owen arrived, dogs in tow, Winter greeted both men with hard hugs, and the dogs with happy rubs.
“It’s so good to see you. All of you.”
“Like the new do,” Owen told her.
“Thanks. Me, too.”
Cleo put her hands on her hips. “I have a plan. I’m no Bree with a massive open house to run, but I have a plan.”
“Chill some, Lafayette. It’s a barbecue.”
“What you call a barbecue, I call a fais-dodo, and where I come from, you don’t stint on those. Table, long enough to seat all of us. Smaller one for a carving station.”
“Carving what?”
She just pointed at Owen. “You’ll find out. Another one for a bar. One more for dishes I’ll keep cold on ice. Chairs.”
“Why can’t the food be on the table where we eat?” Trey wondered.
Cleo sent him a withering look. “Because there’s too much food for that.”
“I’ve seen the menu.” Winter widened her eyes. “She’s not wrong about that.”
“People’ll start coming around four, so, Sonya, you should start doing the tables up by three. I have drawings of what I’m after.”
“Seriously?”
Cleo pointed at her face. “Look at my face. Don’t I look serious? Music, Clover’s handling it. Winter’s in the kitchen with me. Son, you’re on reserve there.”
“Have I been insulted?”
Trey just lifted his shoulders. “I’m a little afraid to say.”
“All right.” Cleo clapped her hands. “Let’s get cracking. Women, kitchen. Men, tables.”
Sonya sent Trey a wide-eyed look as she followed Cleo. And Trey turned to Owen.
“When did she get so scary?”
“It’s always been there. Something’s wrong with me, man. Because I like it.”
Once again relegated to chopping, Sonya took time between to study Cleo’s drawings. And breathed a sigh of relief, as she’d kept it simple. Very pretty, but simple.
When the time came, she spread on the blue-and-white-checked cloths, cut flowers for the old blue mason jars. As she folded napkins, Trey came by.
“Looks nice. You, too.”
“She gave me fifteen minutes to get my party on. I think she could out-Bree Bree.”
She’d done her hair in a short, single braid, tossed on a yellow summer dress about the same shade at the black-eyed Susans on the table.
“Remind me of this next time I think, much less say, let’s have a cookout.”
“Actually.” As he looked around, Trey skimmed a hand down her arm. “It feels right.”
“It does?”
