Sonya glanced at the shopping bags. “You had some fun.”
“I did. And when Gigi of Gigi’s—that fun little store with clothes and soaps and lotions, made locally—found out I was your friend, she said she’d been thinking about contacting you. She’s seen Anna’s website.”
“Really?”
“Naturally, I told her you were the GOAT, and that with all her lovely things, you’d build her something fantastic. I’d expect a call from Gigi this week.”
“I would love to get a call from Gigi.”
“Gigi’s daughter once dated your cousin.”
“Owen?”
“No, one of the other ones. Cole.”
“He lives in London, I think.”
“And Gigi’s daughter lives in Bangor with her husband and two daughters. And a Saint Bernard named Milly.”
“You always get the dish.”
“Yes, I do. Anyway, I had a great time.
“Unless something irresistible comes my way, I may take a few weeks off this summer. Paint and sail and sail and paint, and just wander.”
She tucked the cloth market bags away. “How about a salad with grilled chicken before we get our sexy club wear on?”
“Sounds perfect.”
* * *
It didn’t surprise Sonya when she went up to change to find the red dress once again laid out on the bed.
“You know what? Tonight I can make that work. Unless.”
She walked to the hall, called out, “Cleo, are you wearing red?”
“No. The black dress with the silver.”
“Oh, that’s a good one. Okay.”
Now Cleo stepped out. “You’re wearing that killer red.”
“This is like the third or fourth time Molly’s laid it out for me.”
“She picked the black for me. So, let’s make her happy.”
Maybe not normal in most parts of the world, Sonya decided, but normal enough for the manor.
For the first time since she’d moved in, she pulled out her curling iron. She was going for it.
It took her a full hour, but when she stood in front of the mirror, she thought: Yes. Worth every minute.
She walked down the hall in heels she hadn’t worn in months, and into Cleo’s room.
Her friend had let her hair go wild, and paired the black dress with silver heels that picked up the thin, raised glittery stripes in the dress.
Cleo turned, and her lips, painted vivid red, curved.
“We are so hot it burns. Let’s go down.”
“Trey’s dropping Mookie off, then picking us up, then dropping Yoda off, then picking Owen up. It’s a lot.”
“What about Jones?”
“Jones has Wi-Fi in his doghouse.”
“Right. Forgot.”
Yoda announced Trey before he rang the bell.
When they answered, he gave them a very slow, very satisfying blink. “Well, wow. I got nothing but wow.”
“We’ll take it.” Cleo stepped out.
“Really big wow.”
Sonya shut the door behind her.
In the village, Yoda reunited with Mookie, and minutes later, Trey pulled up in front of a Cape Cod near the bay with an enormous garage.
One toot of the horn had Owen walking out.
“Nice house,” Cleo said.
“Needs work, but it’s coming along.”
“A family of four could live in the garage.”
“It’s not a garage. It’s a shop. You look good,” he said. “Both of you. Manny let me know Bree let him know we were coming. He got us a table. Old times’ sake.”
No one brought up ghosts or ringing bells, so the drive to Ogunquit continued the normal tone of the day. Maybe it was just a lull, Sonya thought, but like Cleo with the wow, she’d take it.
When they walked into the club, she realized she’d missed this.
The movement, and the heat of bodies in motion, the crowded bar, the pounding music.
When she looked toward the raised stage, and the drummer, she realized she wouldn’t have pictured Bree with Manny, with his Buddy Holly glasses, goofy smile, floppy brown hair.
But the chef stood beside a table, hips twitching to the beat. And Sonya saw the goofy smile was aimed straight at her.
“Bree’s holding the table,” Owen shouted. “I’ve got the first round. Want your first and only lonely beer?”
“Yeah. I’m DD, lost the coin toss.”
“How’s the wine here?” Sonya asked.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“I’ll go with him. Got you covered.”