Page 228 of The Seven Rings
Clearly seeing she was one against three, Cleo drew her line.
“Not a gross spooky one. I draw the line at gross and spooky. And if I’m going to sit through any kind of horror movie, I’ll need wine.”
“Get Out. The movie,” Owen added quickly. “It’s not just horror, it’s funny and socially relevant.”
“He’s right,” Trey said.
“And that’s three for it.” Sonya clapped her hands together. “I need to watch it again anyway. Get the wine, popcorn, and I’ll run up and send the video.”
She ran up to the library to edit the video, add music, a few sound effects. Then added a tag.
Greetings from Spook Central. Capping the evening with a scary movie, talk soon! Love you.
Pleased, she sent it off.
When she stood, she turned to the steps up rather than down.
Not a peep out of Dobbs since the attack. Workers had come for the game room, and still nothing. The pinball machine had arrived, and they’d tested it out with a competition.
Trey nipped Owen by a handful of points, and both had trounced her and Cleo.
They’d practice and change that.
She still needed to arrange the display cabinet, set up the jukebox, wait for the pool table. And the reupholstered furniture. But with the rest of the furnishings in place, the new lighting, the wall screen installed, it was happening.
Still, all through the progress, the work, and the fun, Dobbs stayed silent.
But Sonya wanted to go upstairs. Not a pull, not exactly, but more of a sense.
Her phone played “Time Has Come Today.”
“For what?”
She wouldn’t go in the Gold Room. Not only a breach of trust, but stupidity. When they went in, and time was ticking down there, they’d go together.
Then she paused at Cleo’s studio.
“Of course. Jesus, of course.”
She walked to the closet, opened it.
And found Astrid.
She stood in her white gown with the sea, calm and blue, behindher. Her eyes, reflecting that warm blue, seemed to look into Sonya’s. She carried her flowers in the crook of one arm, with her hands crossed at the wrists beneath them.
Her wedding ring shined gold.
The painting didn’t replicate the one in the foyer, as the bride’s body angled, her head tilted. Much, Sonya realized, as Cleo had painted her.
And the style of the artist, of course. The style…
She made a sound caught between grief and joy as she saw Collin’s signature in one corner, her father’s in another.
She stood where she was and wept.
In the kitchen, wine opened, corn popped, Trey glanced toward the hallway.
“She’s been up there awhile. Maybe she decided to call her mom. I’ll just go check.”
