Inheritance (The Lost Bride Trilogy, #1)(120)

“I don’t see anything so far. And here’s Deuce. It works, the casual shots. You were right again. I guess that includes me,” he said when he scrolled down.

“All three of you look relatable, accessible. The backdrops, the law books, the desk, and so on say professional. Corrine is really good.”

“I always thought so.”

“Check out the staff.”

He clicked, grinned. “Jesus, Sadie looks like she could stand on one foot and juggle. Which is what she does every day. These are great. And just enough personal details in the bios. Eddie looks so damn earnest, which he is. And…”

He stopped, roared with laughter that had the dogs racing over.

“You put Mookie on here. Look at this, Mooks, you’re a Legal Consultant.”

“I thought it added something, well, relatable again. But if it’s too much—sorry, Mookie. You’ll need to see how Ace and Deuce feel about that.”

“The ayes on it are going to be unanimous. It’s sweet, funny, and it’s also genius. You even gave him a bio.”

His reaction gave her a lift on both the personal and professional levels.

“I got the details from Lucy, since I wanted you to see it fresh.”

“There’s another word for it. Fresh.”

“You’ve got a tab for the intern program. I haven’t finished there, but I have the framework up.”

“Huh. You’ve got, what, a solid dozen previous interns, with their current situations.”

“I’m waiting on a few more. I didn’t realize you’ve had the program for nearly twenty years.”

“Started before my time. This is excellent, Sonya. Seriously blew right past my expectations.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

She showed him the design for stationery, business cards.

“Consistent, you said, and delivered.”

“Actual delivery will take another week or two, but if we get approval from the other Olivers on the letterhead and cards, Sadie could order them. And that concludes this evening’s consultation.”

She shut down her computer, then slid her arms around his waist. “I’m hoping you plan to stay.”

“I put a bag in the car, in case.”

“Why don’t you get it? Later.”

“Later works.”

And when he kissed her, the day fell away.



* * *



Eventually he went out for his bag, undressed again, and slid back into bed with her.

“Cleo’s right to be jealous.”

“Sorry?”

She tangled her legs with his. “She doesn’t have someone to curl up with. Like this.”

“Nobody back in Boston?”

“No one special. Her grandmother told her that lovers will come and go, but she’ll have only one love, and he’ll be her anchor in every storm. That’s right up Cleo’s alley.”

“Her light’s still on.”

“She’s a night person, mostly. You rarely have a Cleo sighting before nine a.m. Ten’s more likely.”

“I won’t see her before I leave then.”

“Highly doubtful. Trey, if I start to get up tonight, you know, like before? Will you stop me? I don’t want all that tonight.”

“I’ll keep you here.” He brushed a kiss over her hair. “You haven’t done any of that before when I’ve been here. But you talk in your sleep.”

That brought her head up. “I do? What do I say?”

“I can’t make it out, not yet anyway.”

“I never did that before.”

“How do you know? You’re sleeping.”

Laughing, she cuddled closer, let herself start to drift. “The room Cleo and I shared freshman year was far from palatial. She’d have heard me, and she’d have told me. Plus, as a woman fast approaching thirty, I’ll confess I’ve shared a bed with others. Nobody ever said I talked in my sleep.”

“New then. Connected.”

“Mmm. I don’t want to go through the mirror tonight.”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, and stayed awake as she slipped into sleep.



* * *



When the clock woke him, she sighed, and turned. He heard her say, “All right. Yes. I’m coming.”

Before she could get up, he gathered her close. “Stay with me tonight.”

She started to shift away again, but he held her. “Just stay with me.”

He thought she said Lizzy or Lissy before she went still.

“She waits.”

“She’ll wait a little longer.”

In the quiet, the piano music floated up. He heard a woman weeping before, somewhere, a door closed.



* * *



In the morning as he dressed, he told her.

“Lissy,” she said. “It must be. Owen Poole remarried just under two years after Agatha, and his oldest daughter was Lisbeth. So, I guess, Lissy. She married and died the same day. It’s listed in the book as multiple bites from a black widow—1916.”

“You remember all that?”

She tapped her temple. “I have the names of all seven dead brides imprinted now, and how and when they died. I still have to read more, but I know that. I’ll get the book back from Cleo, but I’m sure of that name. Lisbeth Anne Poole. I can’t remember the name of who she married.”