Another female waited at the seawall, in a black dress the wind didn’t seem to touch, her dark hair falling in waves.
They spoke, but Sonya couldn’t hear the voices. She only saw the fury in the second woman’s eyes, and the fear in the one with chestnut hair when the dark woman grabbed her hands.
Now, the woman in the nightgown shuddered in the cold, tried to run back to the manor on feet that must have been frozen.
The manor that stood, shadowed against the whirling snow, its grand doors firmly shut.
She fell while the other watched. Her lips going blue as she struggled up, fell again.
Her eyes, green, Poole green, shed tears that went to ice on her cheeks.
She fell a final time with the snow falling over her like a shroud.
In the dream, Sonya walked the long halls, slid back into bed.
She thrashed in her sleep. And wept.
Chapter Ten
By morning, the dream faded from her mind and memory. She woke eager to work.
She began her routine with coffee, sitting at the counter with her tablet.
A check of her email netted her another inquiry: a recommendation from—bless them—Baby Mine.
Fingers mentally crossed, she answered.
Next she found an email from Trey with information on the rescue organization.
They have photos, what they know of the history of the dog. This one’s just dogs. Ages, temperament, breeds—or the best they can determine breeds. Mookie and I found them pretty terrific. It’s county-wide, but Lucy Cabot works with the county group, and fosters dogs in her home in Poole’s Bay. Let me know if you want/need more.
Trey
She hovered the cursor over the link, nearly pressed it. Then pulled back.
Thanks. I’m not going to let myself look yet because I’m weak, and I still need some time to organize myself before I bring home a dog. Which I now find I want desperately. I hope I last a week without peeking.
Also, I mentioned to your father that I’d like to have your whole family to dinner. I can’t guarantee the quality of the meal, but want to start on the right foot. Are any of you vegan or vegetarian, or does anyone have a food allergy or an extreme aversion to any particular dish? No rush. Need time before that, too. More thanks.
Sonya
She took coffee with her upstairs to change, and stopped short when she saw the neatly made bed, and the fire burning low.
“I didn’t do that. I know damn well I didn’t do that.”
Because the mug shook in her hand, she set it down.
“I wasn’t groggy. I can’t be that forgetful. Can I be that forgetful?”
What were the choices? She had a bed-making intruder, she’d done it on autopilot, or the place was haunted. With bed-making ghosts.
“I’m taking door number two. That’s it. Making the bed’s a habit. Thanks, Mom.”
Because suddenly changing made her uneasy, she decided to work in her pajamas. Not a thing wrong with that.
Taking the coffee and tablet, she walked down the hall, past the staircase, and into the library. After plugging the tablet in, she crossed over to start a fire.
In the clean hearth with logs already set.
Could whoever once cleaned for Collin slip in, do some chores?
And that, she admitted, hit the ridiculous scale as much as bed-making intruders or ghosts.
Autopilot.
She lit the fire, took a steadying gulp of coffee. As she turned to go to her desk, her tablet hit a disco beat with “She Works Hard for the Money.”
After a burst of involuntary laughter, she shuddered.
One more door, she thought. Someone was trying to scare her. Maybe Deuce was wrong about the Poole cousins. Maybe they wanted her out of the house, wanted her to forfeit the inheritance. And they’d found a way to pull some tricks.
“It won’t work. You’re just pissing me off. I’ve got work to do, so back the hell off.”
She grabbed the fireplace poker, took it with her to lean on the corner of the desk.
Just in case.
The work soothed. Here she felt confident, creative. She spent the morning on the layout for Anna’s pottery, organizing by type, by purpose to coordinate with the drop-down menu she’d added to the Shop tab.
She tested, adjusted, tested again. And began to build the shopping cart.
“That’s how it’s done.”
She broke, went down for a Coke and an orange. When she came back, already planning the next steps, her tablet signaled an email.
I peeked. You’re sunk.
As for dinner, thanks in advance. We’re all ravenous carnivores, no food allergies or aversions. Name the date; we’ll be there.
FYI, Anna showed me the website in progress. You hit it dead-on. Nice.