Page 253 of The Seven Rings
“Then let’s go up. We’ve been wanting to get back in there for a while now. Right, Jones? You witch-biting maniac.”
“I think that was meant, too.” Cleo leaned down to give Jones a rub as they started up the stairs. “Having a piece of her from then to add to what we had from now. We thought—my grand-mère and I—that if we could break the curse and keep her from jumping until we broke it, until the hour passed, she’d just fade away.”
“She sealed her fate,” Owen repeated. “No regrets.”
“No, no regrets.”
When they reached the third floor, Sonya paused.
“The door’s open. The door to the Gold Room.”
“It’s time to go in.” Taking her hand, Trey walked down the hall.
Then reaching in, turned on the lights.
It was just a room, with walls papered in gold, a bed with an elaborate head- and footboard. Lovely old furnishings covered with dust.
“Needs some serious cleaning,” Cleo observed, batting away a spiderweb. “And clearing out. Then.”
“The Poole Family and Friends Gallery. She’s gone.” Sonya walked through, her steps leaving footprints in the dust. “There isn’t a trace of her left. Despite the shape of this room, I have to say it. This house is clean.”
“And you’re mistress of Poole Manor.”
She threw her arms around Trey, then pointed at Owen. “Kiss Cleo. And you, kiss me. Right here, right now. First thing we do in here? Bring the love and the light.”
“If you insist.”
When their lips met, when Clover added some Huey Lewis and the News with “The Power of Love,” Sonya felt it burst through her.
The love and the light.
Epilogue
In June, the flowers bloomed. The air softened, sweetened. Music played in the garden where dozens of chairs with white covers faced the pergola. Wisteria spilled like waterfalls.
And in June, Sonya became a bride.
She stood in her sleek and simple white dress as her mother adjusted the circle of rainbow-hued rosebuds over her hair. Sonya thought of the flower headpiece as an homage to Clover.
She wore the diamond-and-sapphire earrings Collin had left her mother, covering old, borrowed, and blue all at once.
“You look so beautiful, baby.”
“You can’t cry before it even starts.”
“Yes, I can.”
“Have some of this.” Cleo, in her bold red gown, handed Winter a glass of champagne.
“And you’re next.”
Cleo smiled, smugly, at the ring—vintage, flashy—on her finger. “Plenty of time yet there. But the house is coming along. Today, we drink to the magnificent bride, and her handsome groom. Which he is, as I had a peek when I went out before.”
“I wish your dad could be here. He’d be so proud.”
“He is, Mom. I know he is. He’ll be with us when you walk me down the aisle. So this toast goes to my mom and dad, who gave me everything I needed to get me right here, where I want to be, where I belong, where I’m happy.”
“And you expect me not to cry?”
