Page 112 of The Seven Rings
“Definitely.”
“This is your work.” Deuce gestured toward Sonya’s paintings. “Cleo’s right. You do minimize it.”
“I appreciate that, but—”
“No buts.” Trey spoke firmly.
“She’s her father’s child in that she inherited his talent. Just not his passion for this kind of art. You painted that one in college. I remember.”
“Cleo dug it out.”
“They’re all wonderful. That tree—you both painted it. It’s got such presence,” Corrine said, “such character. How old is that tree?”
“I’m not that old, youngster.” But Ace studied the painting. “Planted before my time. She’s a beauty.”
“Cleo’s doing the tree in each season.”
“I love that idea, but, Mom, look at this! Look how they’re using this armoire. The closet rod as a paper roll, the storage for wrapping supplies.”
“You know we don’t have one of those.”
“We could get one, Seth. Or someone could build one.”
Owen caught the look. “You know I build boats, right?”
Anna circled a hand over her baby mound. Maybe as habit, maybe as ploy.
“You can build anything. And Trey would help, wouldn’t you, Trey?”
“He doesn’t give me a choice.”
When they started down for dessert, Sonya took a last look back at the Gold Room. Still and quiet.
By the time they returned to the kitchen, the dishwasher hummed and the counters sparkled.
All Seth could say was “Holy crap. Just holy crap. That’s seriously spooky. And convenient.”
So the manor remained quiet through dessert, and while they sat together on the long summer evening as the lights twinkled on.
Sonya watched the Doyles and the Millers drive down the lane with a sense of peace. They’d given friends who were family a lovely evening.
“Best barbecue in the history of them. My girls know how to throw a party.”
“Wait until the holidays.” Sonya hugged her mother. “You have to promise to come for Christmas.”
“That’s a promise I’m happy to give, and keep. And now I’m going up to luxuriate in my beautiful room. Pancake breakfast, ten o’clock. Good night, all.”
“The rest of us should have a last drink out front.” Cleo gestured. “I still need to unwind.”
“I’ll get them,” Trey told her. “Go start unwinding.”
The dogs raced out, and the cat meandered to leap onto the stone wall and look out at the moonlit sea.
As Sonya sat, she considered it the perfect end to a perfect day.
That night, she didn’t wake at three, and slept dreamless. She didn’t wake until nearly nine, and woke alone. No Trey, no dogs.
She quelled the desperate urge for coffee long enough for a rapid-fire shower.
