“No, not me.”
“Well, okay. I think everyone’s going to head out. I was going to stay and give you a hand with all this. But no need for that.”
On cue, the tablet played “Stay.”
She heard the nerves in her own laughter. “Somebody likes having you around.”
Yoda came in, danced, whined.
“Oh, you want to go out. Of course you do. Give me one minute.”
“I’ve got him. Mookie’s going to want to go out with him. And when I say they’re about ready to head out, it always takes a while for them to actually get out.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“Seth, be a good boy and take the cart back to the kitchen for Sonya. Ace and I should take our old bones home. As Corrine said, we’ll leave the younger generation to help with the cleanup.”
“It seems someone from what must be a much older one already took care of that.”
“You’re not kidding?”
Anna patted Seth’s butt. “Come on. I’ll go with you. I’ll protect you and get my cake carrier.”
“I ain’t afraid of no ghosts,” he said as he wheeled the cart away.
“Myself, I wouldn’t mind an invisible maid. But,” Corrine added, “it must be disconcerting.”
“A time and energy saver, and yeah, disconcerting’s one word for it. I have, by my current count, the maid, a house disc jockey, a firewood hauler, the door slammer, the piano player. At least one of them likes dogs because they taught Yoda to shake. I need to write all that down, too.”
“When you do, if I could see it? With what I know of the family and house history,” Deuce told her, “I might be able to help identify some of the … occupants.”
“Sure. I’ll send it to you once I get it together.”
“You’re a sturdy young woman.” Paula offered a hand, then closed her other around Sonya’s. “And we had an absolutely wonderful evening. Thank you so much.”
Sonya got coats as Trey brought Yoda back. “I put Mook in the car. They wore each other out.”
He lingered in the foyer as his family left. “You’re okay?”
“Yes.”
“And if you’re not?”
“I’ll call.”
“This was great, and I think you’re what the house needs. I hope it’s what you need.”
She felt her heart flutter, just a little, as he stood close with his eyes direct on hers.
“It feels like it.”
“Good. I’ll see you soon.”
She closed the door behind him.
“He was thinking about it. I’m not wrong about that. He was thinking about making a move.” She looked down at the dog. “Should I have made the move? I’m gun-shy, that’s what it is. I have to get over it. But tonight, I’m pretty worn out, too.
“Let’s go to bed, Yoda.”
* * *
She dreamed someone played the piano, but not in the music room. In the front parlor Astrid played something lively and quick. An older woman sat by the fire, working with a needle and an embroidery hoop while she tapped her foot in time.
In the grate, a log fell; embers flew.
Collin Poole stood beside Astrid and turned the page on her music.
Someone had pushed the furniture back, so three couples formed two lines, weaving back and forth as they danced.
She recognized what had to be Collin’s twin, Connor. And the way he looked at his partner, she knew her for Arabelle, the woman he’d marry. The doomed Catherine’s mother.
But young now, all of them, except the woman by the fire, and she saw the man sitting nearby, smiling, sipping his whiskey as he watched the dancers.
Astrid’s parents, she thought, not certain why she felt so sure of it. She moved through the room, a ghost among ghosts.
She smelled the flowers—roses from the hothouse. The candle wax made by a family in the village, the woodsmoke from the logs a servant named John split and stacked.
It was early April—she knew it—only weeks before Astrid Grandville would marry Collin Poole. The first bride to marry at the manor.
The first to die there.
When the dance ended, Collin took Astrid’s hand, brought it to his lips.
It all froze.
Astrid turned her head and looked at Sonya.
“We were so happy this night. A prelude, Collin said, to all the parties we would host, with friends, with family. We had everything ahead of us.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Find the rings. You’re the last who can.”