Inheritance (The Lost Bride Trilogy, #1)(101)

“It might have played a part, but no. What your dad and I had, it was … magic.” On a sigh, a loving one, Winter laid her free hand on her heart. “Right from the start, we had magic. I never felt that with or for anyone else. Why would I settle for less?”

She squeezed Sonya’s hand. “Still, you’re so much alone here. Excluding you,” she said to Yoda. “Are you afraid?”

“Sometimes. And I’m glad Cleo’s moving in. Because Cleo, and it’ll be nice to have someone here. Add we’ll use more of the house, because Cleo. I have to remind myself not to burrow in the library.

“There’s a lot more. I’ll tell you while I make dinner. You’re not helping.”

“I’m topping off my wine, and will sit right here, a fascinated observer.”

Because she did know her mother, Sonya built her way to the more frightening incidents. Maybe toned them down, just a little.

When the water boiled for the pasta, she slid it in. And set a timer before continuing as she prepped the scallops.

Set a second timer there.

“You saw the mirror. The one your father dreamed of.”

“I can’t say for absolute, but I believe I did absolutely. And I know I saw Astrid Poole’s murder, I saw Catherine die in a blizzard. I saw Marianne deliver twins and die. And each time, I saw Hester Dobbs.”

“Since you seem to have the cooking miraculously under control, I’m going to set the table.”

“The small one there. The dining room’s grand and glorious, but intimidating unless you’ve got a group.”

As they worked together, she told Winter about the night Trey saw Clover again. As she began, the tablet played “Whatta Man,” and made her laugh.

“She can’t help herself.”

“And that really doesn’t give you a chill?”

“Not anymore. I’m telling you all this because I don’t want you to freak if anything happens while you’re here. And because I want you to know I’ve got a handle on it. There’s a salad in the fridge.

“I hope this works, hope this works.”

She heated the skillet on low, dumped in the carefully measured lemon juice, added salt and pepper—no measurement given—then spread the drained pasta on a pretty platter.

“It smells terrific, Sonya.”

“It does smell good, and in about half a minute, we’ll find out if it worked. Did I thank you for letting me give Corrine Doyle the pot roast thing?”

“You did, and she sent me a very nice handwritten thank-you.”

“She did? That sounds like her. I’ve only met her once, but it sounds like her. Here goes.”

With the care of a diamond cutter and a rare gem, she ladled the scallops and sauce over the pasta. Added Parmesan and a sprinkle of chopped parsley and basil.

“Artistic eye. Presentation was never your problem. You could make a takeout meal look like dinner at a five-star. I want you to know I appreciate you making me dinner.”

At the table, Winter dished up a little salad, then the main. “And I’m going for the scallops first because I have to.”

After forking one in half, then half again, she wound a little angel hair with it. Sampled.

And sat back.

“Sonya, it’s absolutely wonderful.”

“Is it really?” Bypassing the salad, Sonya tried it herself. “Oh, it’s good. I didn’t overcook it. Bree put the fear of God in me on that.”

“Now, who’s Bree?”

“Oh, Trey’s ex—high school ex—and friend. She’s the head chef at the Lobster Cage. A really good restaurant in the village. It’s her recipe.”

“I want it. I’m making this the next time I have friends for dinner. Now tell me the rest. The ghostly rest.”

“It’s the clock—there’s a grandfather clock in the second parlor.”

Sonya told her.

“Sweetie, that’s terrifying. That’s Shirley Jackson territory. She burned your arm. Let me see it.”

“There’s nothing to see.” But to placate, Sonya shoved up the sleeve of her sweater. “I’m not going to pretend it wasn’t scary, or that I haven’t jumped out of my skin more than a few times, but—”

“You’re determined. I know your face.”

“It’s my house, Mom. It should’ve been Dad’s. He should’ve grown up here with his brother.”

“If he had, I might never have met him. We might not have had you.”

With a smile, Sonya shook her head. “Magic,” she reminded Winter. “You had magic. You’d have found each other, and this would still be my house. I’m going to have one more scallop because they’re really good. And I’m going to find those rings. Don’t ask me how, don’t have a clue. But I’m going to find them.”

“I could take a leave of absence, move up here for a few months.”

“You’ll do no such thing. Not because I wouldn’t love to have you, but because you have a life, a home, a career in Boston. I’m not letting some dead witch beat me.”

“Determined face,” Winter murmured. “It’s always a bride, a new wife or mother. You and Trey aren’t thinking about marriage, are you?”