Inheritance (The Lost Bride Trilogy, #1)(134)

“Jack. Well, if you get a chance, maybe you could let Jack know I’m happy to share Yoda with him, and Cleo and I are happy to share the house.”

Not as if she had a choice, Sonya thought, but it made sense to keep the peace wherever possible.

She worked until five. Sometime during the work, Yoda made his way back upstairs and, clearly tuckered out by the play, snoozed by the fire.

When she rose, looked over at him, she saw the Poole family book on the table, open.

Yoda blinked his eyes when she walked over, thumped his tail.

She saw the facing page listed the children of Owen Poole—Agatha’s Owen—and his second wife, Moira.

Michael and Connor, twins.

Charles, born a year later.

Lisbeth, born the following year. Died at eighteen on her wedding day.

Alice, born three years after Lisbeth, married and moved to Virginia, where she lived until the age of sixty-nine.

And John (Jack), born a year and a half after Alice, who died at the age of nine. Scarlet fever.

Poor kid, she thought.

Yoda rushed out; the doorbell bonged.

As she went down, she thought of the boy, suffering, maybe delirious. His desperate parents, his frightened siblings. For more than a hundred years he’d lived this … could it be called a half life?

And now he played with her dog.

She opened the door to another dog, and Trey.

“There’s Mookie. You’ve got a friend, Yoda. And you’ve got a key,” she said to Trey.

“For emergencies, not drop-bys.”

Nothing, she thought, just nothing like Brandon. And wrapping her arms around him, held hard.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just feeling down, I guess. I read about Jack Poole—the boy who plays with Yoda and opens the cabinets. I saw him this afternoon.”

“Saw him?” Trey drew her back to look into her eyes.

“What you’d call a fleeting glimpse. Come on, you can have a beer while I tell you.”

Cleo, already in the kitchen, smiled at Trey. “Excellent, another victim. I’m doing this pork thing and trying my hand at scalloped potatoes. Is it glass-of-wine time, Son?”

“It could be. Did you bring the Poole book into the library today?”

“No.”

“Somebody did. His name’s Jack. He died of scarlet fever. Nine years old.”

“Oh.” Cleo’s eyes went damp. “Poor little guy.”

“I need to backtrack for Trey.”

Once she had, Trey picked up the history. “I’m nearly sure it was Michael Poole who married Patricia—your bio great-grandmother. She’s the one who refused to live here. Michael was the oldest twin. She basically closed the place up.”

“And her son, Charlie, opened it up again, moving in with Clover and friends?”

“That’s the story I know,” Trey agreed. “Charlie wanted the place, his parents didn’t, so his father deeded it to him. In trust, if I’m remembering right, until he hit eighteen. He would’ve inherited it anyway, as Michael Poole’s oldest son, and I think Michael Poole died before Charles hit eighteen. Or soon after that. It would be in the book.”

“So Jack would be my great-great-uncle? It’s confusing. I’ve put off reading more of the history and lineage, and I shouldn’t. I need to get back to it.”

She looked over at Cleo. “Anything I can do here?”

“We’re all going to hope I have this under control.”

“It looks like I timed a drop-by on the money. I wanted to let you know we all went over the files, and it’s perfect.”

“You’re good with it?”

“More than. Sadie actually grunted twice, which is effusive praise.”

“I can have it up live first thing in the morning. This is awesome. Every time I think I miss the office vibe I realize how much more I like my own vibe.”

The ball came bouncing into the kitchen. Both dogs gave mad chase.

“Even with that, I like my own vibe. And I guess I should pick up another ball.”

After dinner, Sonya pointed at Cleo. “You had it under control.”

“I did. I’m sort of into it. How about I take the dogs out and you guys deal with cleanup?”

“Fair trade,” Trey agreed.

“Then I’m thinking about movie-time. I’ll use the library if you’re not interested. If you are, it seems like the right moment to break in the media room.”

“Oh.” Her stomach knotted. Knee-jerk, Sonya thought. Time to move on from that. “You know, you’re right. What’s the point in having a media room if you never use it?” She turned to Trey. “Are you up for a movie?”

“Can there be violence, maybe nudity, and harsh language?”

“We’re good with that.” Sonya rose to clear the table. “Scratch sophisticated comedies, dramas, bittersweet romance. We’re all about the action. I insist on strong, potentially kick-ass female lead. Now, let’s narrow that down. Classic or released in the last two years?”

“I love the classics,” Cleo said. “You know what I’ve never seen, commercial free and on a screen bigger than my desktop monitor? The original Terminator.”

“That clicks all the boxes.” Sonya gave Trey a hip bump as they dealt with the dishes. “You get a vote.”