Page 122 of The Seven Rings
“It’s like wearing a garden—in a good way. Thanks, Molly.”
As she walked out, Cleo came out of her room.
“It’s barely nine-thirty. Who are you?”
“Funny. Need coffee.”
Sonya walked with her. “Or. You could come with me. I can wait. Shopping.”
“Not today, Satan. I want to finish my summer tree before it’s not summer.”
“I thought you had.”
“Nearly. You look good. Professional, but not stiffly business. Pretty but not frivolous.”
“Apparently, that was Molly’s plan.”
“I can look pretty.” Considering, Cleo nodded. “I could look pretty and meet you for lunch.”
“That’s a plan. One would work for me.” Sonya paused at the library. “How about the casual place at the hotel?”
“Also a plan.”
“I could text Anna, see if she wants to join.”
“Yeah, do that.”
“I’ll text her now. I have to grab a couple of things. See you at one.”
She sent the text, gathered her things. And read Anna’s reply on the way downstairs. Detoured to the kitchen where Cleo stood, waking up her brain with coffee.
“Anna rain-checks. Almost-Mom checkup today. Just you and me?”
Still drinking, Cleo shot up a thumb.
Bending down, Sonya gave Yoda a scrub. “Be good for Cleo. And Jack,” she added as she walked out.
On the way to her car, she glanced back at the house and saw the shadow at her bedroom window, as she had seen it the first time she’d come to the manor.
But now she lifted a hand in a wave, and the shadow lifted one in return. Sonya smiled as she drove away.
En route, she went over her agenda.
Gigi’s, A Bookstore, Bay Arts. Depending on time spent in each, either the salon or the yoga studio. Lunch, the florist on the way home.
Calculating her walking route, she opted to park nearest the salon, as she’d end up there one way or the other.
As she walked, she noticed plenty of tourists, and found herself pleased she could recognize so many locals. Plenty of them, too, out and about. Three days of rain, she decided, and the sun pulled everyone outdoors.
She entered Gigi’s, chatted with the owner—her client. She browsed, and thinking of the gift-wrapping room, the gift storage, let herself think Christmas.
As she came back to checkout, a woman and a teenage boy came in, both carrying boxes. Sonya caught the scent before they’d set the boxes on the counter.
“Delivery!” The woman tossed back a head of beaded braids.
“And just in time. We’re running low. I’ll check you out first, Sonya. This is Carrie, and her boy, Hogan. Carrie’s Bayside Lotions and Potions.”
“And the soaps smell amazing. I already use them, and I just picked up more. Sonya MacTavish.” She held out a hand.
