“As opposed to a house inhabited by numerous ghosts and a dead, vicious witch?”
“Damn right. I’ll take ghosts over spiders all day, every day. Multiple bites. I remember this now.”
“Like a dozen? I think that’s right. I just remember she died from black widow bites.”
“Thirteen bites—they found them when they took off her wedding gown and the rest. The spider or spiders had already scurried off on its/their too many legs. It appeared it had somehow gotten into her dress or the underpinnings. I mean, today they’d have antivenom. She’d have probably gotten sick, but wouldn’t have—probably—died. Although, maybe, with that many. But early twentieth, a lot of people died from poisonous spiders. I looked it up.”
Cleo downed coffee. “She was dancing. It was about time for her to go down and change into her going-away outfit. She never got the chance. The groom was bereft, but I read up some on him, and I think he was most bereft because she was an heiress.”
“Cynical.”
“It’s how I read it.”
Restless, hands in her pockets, Sonya wandered to the window and back. “I should’ve had Trey follow me instead of stop me. I just didn’t want to go through it last night.”
“Son, you’re entitled. I’d have a hard time knowing I was going to watch another woman die on what should’ve been the happiest day of her life. If you want a break, you take it.”
“I guess I did take it. I thought you wanted to explore the village today.”
“That was the plan, but the painting’s got me. Maybe tomorrow. I’m going straight up to see if I’ve got what I think I’ve got. You’re okay?”
“I am. I’ve got a bunch of Saturday stuff. Starting with a workout. No, scratch that. Corrine’s coming.” She checked the time. “Shortly. And I don’t know what time Trey’s coming back.”
“I’m facing the front so I’ll see him. Maybe. Or hear him. Probably. If not, send someone up to get me. I really want that chest, and to go through things again.”
Sonya tossed some laundry in the washer, made herself presentable.
Not just a photographer she hoped to hire for a project, she thought, but Trey’s mother.
At ten-thirty sharp, Corrine rang the bell.
Like mother, like daughter, Sonya thought, as Corrine looked Saturday-morning stylish in black pants with a hip-length, pin-striped vest over a flowy white shirt.
“Thanks so much for coming out.”
“You’ve got me intrigued.”
“Let me take your coat. I’d like to explain everything to you upstairs so you can see some of what I have in mind.”
“Collin would love the way you’re living, making good use of the manor. Trey said your friend moved in.”
“Yes. Cleo’s up in the studio. It’s the perfect space for her, and I hope he’d appreciate she’s not only making good use of it but loves it.”
“Now you have this good boy and your good friend. And … Trey.”
“Ah.”
“He’s a grown man.” After giving Yoda a final pat, Corrine straightened. And looked Sonya dead in the eye.
“I believe I raised him to make good choices. As his mother, I certainly think you’ve made a good one, let’s say, spending time with him. We’ll leave it there.”
“He’s very kind.”
Now Corrine’s eyebrows shot up. “So’s this puppy.”
With appreciation, Sonya laughed. “Trey has other attributes, but like you said, we’ll leave it there. Come on up.”
“Aren’t you clever?” Corrine said the minute she stepped into the library. “Collin—and I’ll apologize for bringing him up again, but he was a very cherished friend. He would so appreciate this. The creativity, and the practicality.”
She turned, looked at the mood board. “Ryder Sports. Yes, yes, yes, I see what you’re after.”
“I found action shots. Of course, some of these are models, posed, but I got some from articles. The high school track meet, the yoga class, and so on. That’s actually Cleo doing the warrior pose. The studio where she practiced in Boston took that for their site.”
“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? And limber.”
“She’s both. I want movement, I want the effort or the satisfaction or the sweat, depending, to show. Let me share with you the basic design I’ve started.”
They sat together at the desk as Sonya ran it through.