Page 55 of The Seven Rings
“I could use a beer.”
“I’m with Owen. I’ll give you a hand, Mom.”
“As if I can’t put a few drinks together. I know you have plans for dinner, but I want to say I made a big bowl of pasta salad, and Deuce is grilling chicken.”
“Your pasta salad.” Owen pointed at Corrine, somehow elegantin her cropped khakis and pale blue T-shirt. “His grilled chicken?” Owen spread his arms, looked at the other three. “Come on, man.”
“And there’s a boule of sourdough made fresh this morning.”
“You guys can go on if you want. I’m sticking.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Sonya said. “If you’re sure you—”
“Settled. I’ll be right back.”
“You made her day.” Deuce looked after his wife, pushed back the brim of his ball cap over his gray-streaked hair. “She made that pasta salad—enough to feed an army—hoping you’d stay. And I’ve got plenty of chicken marinating because I hoped the same.”
He gestured to chairs on the generous back porch. “Let’s have a seat. How was the sail?”
“Couldn’t have been better,” Sonya told him.
“That’s good to hear. I thought I’d come by one day next week if that’s good for you. I have paperwork for you to look over and sign regarding the donations you want to continue.”
“You’re welcome anytime, paperwork or not.”
“Collin would be so pleased you’re doing this.”
He glanced back as Corrine came out with a tray carrying two frothy flutes and two pilsners.
“This is so nice,” she said when Trey got up to take the drinks from her. “Summer goes by so quickly, and we’re all busy. It’s nice to have an evening like this.”
“And your gardens are picture-perfect.”
“They do make me happy. I did have a thought about gardens. I’m not going to insert work into the evening.”
“It’s not work if you love it.”
Corrine beamed at Sonya. “It’s not, is it? I need to see the wardrobe before I make any real decisions.”
“Coming this week. I’d love to hear your thought.”
“I’m told you’ve not only maintained the gardens at the manor but added to them. With Cleo doing some yoga poses outside, my thought is the garden at the manor.”
“This is an excellent thought. The hydrangeas are really hitting gorgeous. And we have this statue. A goddess.”
Corrine held up a hand. “Shots of Cleo with the flowers and the statue in frame. Don’t hate me,” she said as she turned to Cleo. “I think a sun salutation, at sunrise, would be fantastic.”
Cleo winced, drank some Bellini. “I can take one for the team. But it better be an amazing yoga outfit. Got any ideas on those two?”
Corrine glanced toward her son and Owen, now talking baseball with Deuce. “Actually, I do have a few.”
By the time Deuce started the grill, Sonya had a picture in her mind of how to put it all together.
In his Bermuda shorts and Red Sox tee, he grilled vegetables and chicken. It seemed so strange to her that this man had knocked on her door on a cold winter’s day in Boston, and changed her life.
He’d helped her find family she hadn’t known existed, helped give her a home she’d loved from first glance—and included a centuries-old curse to break.
He was the father of the man she’d fallen in love with.
