“And drunken relatives.”
“The best ones are.”
“Your turn.”
“My weekend can’t compare to yours. But there is my mother’s reaction to spending hers with ghosts. Which was surprisingly steady.”
She told him.
“It sounds like I had it right. You got a lot of your steady from your mother.”
“I didn’t realize when my father died how much she had to take on. You don’t think of things like that when you’re twelve. And by the time I grew up enough to realize it, it just was. She gave me stability.”
“It says something that she senses your dad with her.”
“What does it say?”
“That love, the real deal, lasts. The real deal gives you strength.”
“You must be right because I don’t know anyone stronger than Winter MacTavish. By the way, since she immediately and correctly interpreted my term dating?” She pointed a finger at him, then at herself. “She demands to meet you the next time she’s here.”
“I’ll look forward to that.” He glanced over. “Here comes Bree.”
This time the chef scooted Trey over to look directly at Sonya. “I can’t look in your eyes with a text, so tell me again you didn’t overcook the scallops or pasta.”
“You scared me enough on that. I set timers. My mother was so shocked and impressed she forced me back to the kitchen on Saturday and whipped me through a chicken dish. So my thanks is qualified by fear and annoyance, as she told me she’s going to teach me a different dish whenever she visits.”
“Didn’t she ever teach you growing up?”
“She tried. I’d chop and stir if cornered. But I was slippery, and I stand as one of her few failures.”
Bree nodded, considered. “I still like you. Rock Hard’s back in Ogunquit next week,” she told Trey. “I’m going next Monday. You should come. Bring her. I gotta get back.”
She hopped up, took off.
“So.” Sonya picked up her wine. “She and Manny have solidified their thing.”
“Looks that way. Do you want to go hear some music next week?”
“I would. Rock Hard and Manny live bold in my imagination. But Cleo’s coming in a few days. I don’t want to ditch her for an evening so soon.”
“Does she like music?”
“She does.”
“Owen will definitely be up for going. We could make it a group thing.”
“It sounds like fun. I’ll ask her. But then there’s Yoda.”
“My parents take on Mookie if I’m going to be gone more than a couple hours. They’ll take Yoda.
“Think about it. Ask Cleo.”
She would, and did some of that thinking on the drive home.
“I should get Yoda a doghouse. The weather’s breaking, and he’d have somewhere to chill when he’s outside.”
“You should ask Owen to build him one.”
“Owen builds doghouses?”
“Not for everybody, but Owen can build anything. You should see the one we built for Jones. It’s a dog palace. It’s got Wi-Fi.”
“Get out of here.”
“It’s heated, with a circulating fan to cool it in the summer, two bunks, in case he has a pal over like Mookie last weekend. It’s got a frigging porch, windows—with screens.”
“You said ‘we built.’”
“I’m just the free labor. He’s the genius.”
Which explained his workingman hands, Sonya thought.
“Does Mookie have one?”
“Mookie’s is more of a playhouse. He’s still a kid, really, and he lacks Jones’s taste for the finer things.”
“Does it have Wi-Fi?”
“It does not.” He pulled up at the manor. “Mookie also lacks Jones’s spookily superior intellect. I’m not sorry about that. But it has its amenities.”
“Yoda wants one.”
“Discuss it with Owen,” Trey said as they walked to the door. “He believes in the barter system.”
After the dogs greeted them, and everyone had a walk around, Trey took her hand at the door.
“I’d like to stay.”
Her answer was to pull him inside with her. “Did you think you were going somewhere?”
* * *
He woke when the clock struck three, and beside him she stirred. Pulling her close, he pressed his lips to her hair.
“Not tonight. Just sleep.”
If she dreamed, she didn’t remember, and fell smoothly back into routine.