The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

But Clover had it right. Until she took care of this business, it would hang over her.

“Very nice choice,” Cleo said as she came in. “You look approachable but not malleable. I overrode Molly this time, and went with the black. I thought I could fade into the background if necessary.”

“This is the right thing to do.”

“It is, Son. Whatever it accomplishes or doesn’t, it’s the right thing to do. And a necessary thing.

“I’m grabbing a couple of Cokes for the road. After last night, there can’t be too much caffeine.”

“Speaking of last night, Owen had a dream.”

Cleo turned quickly, a Coke in either hand. “A mirror dream?”

“No. I’ll explain in the car. We need to let Yoda and Pye back in. Maybe we should put out some treats for them, or more toys, or—”

“I think Jack will take care of that.” Cleo handed a Coke to Sonya and went to let the animals in. “Be good, be good, my sweets. We’ll be back before you know it.

“You’re jumpy, I get it.” Cleo patted Sonya’s arm. “You drive. It’ll take your mind off it. And you can tell me about this non-mirror dream I’m assuming I didn’t star in.”

“Not this time.”

They went out to the car, where Sonya programmed the GPS. “I’m not worried about Pye and Yoda. If they need to go out again, somebody in there will let them out, and back in. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before.”

“Neither did I, but I’m betting you’re right. In any case we’re not going to be gone all that long.”

“No.” But the nerves kept jittering. “Couple hours. Just a couple hours. Okay, mind off what’s on the other end of this drive, eyes on the road. Owen,” she said, and told Cleo about the dream.

“I think that’s just lovely. I think it’s lovely the way Collin wanted to reach out to him, and how he did it. Take away the damn black queen for now.”

“Boy, wouldn’t I love to.”

“For now,” Cleo repeated. “Sitting over the chess board together—just the two of them—beer and brandy, music, the dog, the fire going.”

“You know, I didn’t think of that. He made it comfortable. Familiar.”

“Exactly. Letting Owen know he was proud of him, he loved him. Things people sometimes forget to say until it’s too late to say them. And the way he spoke about your dad, Deuce, Trey, the Doyles. It’s meaningful.”

“From my take on it, Owen understood that. He got that, and it mattered.”

“So did and do you, matter. He trusted the manor to you because you’re his brother’s child, and because the manor matters. And he’s still part of it, like Clover and Molly and the rest.”

“That’s what Trey pointed out, and both Owen and I missed. I should’ve known you wouldn’t. So why did he look young? Owen’s age?”

Angling her head, Cleo adjusted her sunglasses. “I’ve always wondered, if you need to, or choose to, stay after you die, couldn’t you be any age you were?”

“You would wonder that.”

“Jack, for instance, can’t be a grown man because he never was. But Collin was Owen’s age once, so why not? And wouldn’t it put them on more even footing?”

“I thought the last part, but I never gave any thought to the other until now. Again, in manor logic, it makes sense. Some sense anyway.

“We’re going to be there soon. I’ve thought of a dozen different ways to approach this, and still can’t decide which is best.”

“You can overprepare,” Cleo pointed out. “I think this is a case of playing it by ear.”

The memory center, housed in a rosy brick building, spread long and low over expansive grounds. It stood quiet behind gates, with a flow of gardens waiting to bloom flanking each side. Paths wound through them where people walked in twos or threes or sat together on stone benches. Bright red tulips circled a small fountain with the spill of water catching the sun in rainbows.

Trees showed their April haze of green or the first brave blossoms.