Inheritance (The Lost Bride Trilogy, #1)(141)

“God, Sonya.”

“It was her clapback for me calling her a pest. She’s been quiet since. Clover’s hung with me, and Jack played with Yoda. All in all, a typical day at the manor. Oh, and Molly’s airing out our bedrooms.”

Cleo looked up. “What a good idea. A perfect day for it.”

“Now tell me why I don’t have the files from the shoot.”

“Because we decided she’d wait to send them until I got home, so we could look at them together. And I’m texting her right now that I am, and we will.”

“Are you sure you got enough? Hardly an hour at it?”

“Nearly an hour and a half,” Cleo corrected. “And yes. We looked them over in the studio. I know what you want, and so does Corrine. Slick, professional, but with a casual, just-living-your-life feel.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Let’s go see if we pulled that off.”

“I’m grabbing a Coke,” Sonya said as they went inside.

“Good idea. I’ll take one.”

In the kitchen, the box of treats sat on the counter. But this time a note sat beside it. In very formal, careful cursive, it read:

Toss it.



“Cleo.” Sonya tapped a finger on the note.

“Well, just wow. Messages from the beyond? Toss one and see.”

Yoda sat, butt wiggling. After digging out one of the little biscuits, Cleo tossed it in the air. Yoda leaped, snagged it, landed.

“Oh, well done, Yoda.” Cleo applauded. “Well done, Jack. Let me do one. You’re a champion dog.”

“He wrote a note,” Sonya murmured. “I was afraid I scared him, but he wrote a note.”

Cleo put an arm around her shoulders. “There’s an awful lot of good energy in this house. Let’s go up.”

Yoda settled by the fire as Cleo pulled a chair over to join Sonya at the desk.

She opened the file.

“Okay, you did get plenty, and I can already see you’re right about the light. It’s perfect.”

She started clicking through, enlarging when one struck her.

“You can probably tell I started out with a basic Vinyasa, to warm us both up.”

“Added a Tree Pose, which is perfect, and really lovely. But, I think, too typical.”

She continued on.

“Oh, this. Reverse Warrior, the curves, the light. Top contender.”

She flagged it before going on. Then flagged another, Warrior Three, before shifting to floor poses.

“Show-off,” she said as they viewed Cleo in a split-leg fold with her torso flat on the floor. “But this one, this bridge, the curves again, and that light doesn’t quit. Scratch that, this one. One-Legged Bridge, the leg extended up. Curves and angles. How do you manage to look relaxed holding that pose?”

“Because it relaxes me.”

Sonya went through the rest to the final cross-legged, hands in prayer, eyes closed.

Namaste.

“These are absolutely right in every way. I’ll go over them another, oh, five dozen times, but it’s going to come down to the Reverse Warrior, Warrior Three, and that One-Legged Bridge. I’ve got multiple shots of each after I settle on which.

“Thanks, Cleo. Big, giant thanks.”

“I had fun, and I like Corrine. She’s elegant without being stuffy. Now I’m going to put my nose to the grindstone. Makeup and hair’s done, so I’ll probably work till six. If you knock off earlier, come up and drag me away.”

She sent Corrine a thank-you text and gave her the top three current picks, then settled down to work, with Yoda napping and Clover playing quiet classic rock with some pop tossed in.

Just before five, she got another file from Corrine.

Too perfect a day to miss doing some outdoor shots. It took some persistence—of which I have a deep well—but I think I got what you were after. Owen volunteered to hit a few, which stirred up that sense of competition I wanted. Let me know what you think.

She opened the file, said, “Oh, oh, oh!” Then literally jumped out of her seat and danced.

There was Trey, worn jeans, blue T-shirt, fielder’s cap, stretching for that line drive with the ball inches from the sweet spot of a Ryder’s ball glove.

Sonya spun into a pirouette, then another before she managed to sit again.

Trey digging for a grounder, that long line of motion, eyes focused, and another snapping a throw toward—she assumed—home plate.

And unexpectedly, one of him all but horizontal to the ground, the ball pinched in his glove.

She went through them all, flagged her favorites. And answered Corrine.

I’m thrilled. I’m speechless. I’m not paying you enough. Forget I said that. These are beyond perfect. Thank you for your persistence and your talent and your incredibly handsome son.

She shut down, grabbed her tablet, and ran straight up to Cleo’s studio.

“I’m here to drag you away. Can you stop? You have to see these.”

“Nearly ready.” Cleo sat at the workbench with a tabletop easel, finishing an illustration in acrylics.

Knowing how it worked, Sonya walked down to the sofa, sat, and went over the file she’d copied to her tablet.

When Cleo sat back, Sonya bounced up.

“What do you think?” Cleo asked.