Page 5 of The Seven Rings
She bundled up her mass of burnt honey curls, sent Owen out to the herb garden for parsley and tarragon. And got to work.
It gave her something to do—and more, gave Sonya more time to smooth out.
Her friend still held a lot of anger, and Cleo was all for the mad. But Sonya also looked a bit pale yet, and her deep green eyes showed a fatigue that came from more, far more, than interrupted sleep.
She carried the load, and while the rest of them could help, did help, they couldn’t take it from her.
This helped, Cleo thought. Not just food, but the company, the routine. Trey and Sonya feeding the pets, Owen getting out plates and flatware.
Just the movement, the life—and the unity—helped.
When the oven timer dinged, Sonya walked over to take out the bacon. Trey put bread in the toaster—and watched Sonya.
Afraid she’ll break, Cleo thought as she slid the third of four omelets onto a platter and put it in the warmer.
But she won’t.
Any more than he or Owen would after witnessing a man they’d loved and respected die.
None of them would break.
When the last pat of butter she melted in the skillet began to foam, she poured in the egg-cheese-and-herb mixture.
“I think I’m going to paint out back today, do a study of the garden. The wisteria on the pergola.”
“You don’t need to stay near the house for me, Cleo.”
“I can if I want, but what I want is out back. Unless you want to blow off the day and go sail the bay in my beautiful little boat.”
“I’ve got a couple of jobs to juggle in with the Ryder Sports account. No day off for me.”
“Next weekend.”
Sonya smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Next weekend sounds good.”
With the last omelet on the platter along with bacon and toast, they sat together at the table while all four pets caught a predawn nap.
“These look amazing, Cleo.”
“You’ll convince me of that, Son, if you eat some.”
“I will. And I’m sorry I’m being such a drag on everything.”
“You’re not,” Trey objected, and deliberately lifted an omelet from the platter onto her plate.
“I feel like one. I… I’ve seen pictures, and he—Collin—was older when he died than my dad, but still, somehow, I wasn’t prepared for how much they looked alike. It had to be worse for you and Owen, but I can’t seem to shake that part yet. And we haven’t heard anything from Clover since right after it stopped. She always has so much to say, and I’m worried she’s—”
As she spoke, the tablet on the kitchen counter rang out with Elton John’s “I’m Still Standing.”
When tears sprang to Sonya’s eyes, Trey reached for her.
“No, no, it’s relief. It’s exactly what I needed to hear. So are we, Clover.” Now she forked off a bite of omelet, sampled it. And when she smiled, meant it. “And this is as amazing as it looks.”
They ate while three dogs and a cat slept, while music played on the tablet. By tacit agreement, they didn’t talk about what had happened, not yet. The time would come, but for now they let that rest, too.
“You’ve got a knack, Lafayette.” Owen polished off the last of his omelet.
“I believe I do.”
