The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

“Don’t know. We need to get the dogs from Mom’s. I should probably clean up a little.”

“Clean up later. It’s past have-a-beer time.”

Because he couldn’t disagree, Trey didn’t argue.

When they arrived at the manor, both women rose from where they sat in the main parlor drinking wine.

“They’ve got adult beverages. I want an adult beverage.”

“We’ll get you that.” Sonya stopped Owen before he could head straight back to the kitchen. “We want to show you something first.”

She led the way to the music room.

“Another one.” Studying the portrait, Owen slipped his hands into his pockets.

“Bride number four,” Trey said.

“Agatha Winward Poole. Owen Poole’s—son of Marianne Poole—first wife. Died of anaphylactic shock via poisoned petits fours on her wedding day.”

“When did you find it?”

Sonya glanced over at Trey. “Right before we left for the village. The yard sale didn’t seem like the time or place to mention it.”

“No.” He moved closer. “That’s your father’s signature. The same as on Clover’s.”

“Yes, my father’s work. Cleo and I hung it there when we got back from the village.”

“She’s a looker. They all are,” Owen observed. “But this one’s got an edge to her. So, four down, three to go.”

“Maybe just two? We already have the portrait of Astrid.”

He shot Sonya a sidelong glance. “You’re a graphic designer. You know space better than that. Taking the width of these four, the spacing between. Three more.”

“I did notice that, and thought about it.”

“They have to paint them. Your dad, Collin. One each so far,” Cleo pointed out.

“Cleo had looked in the closet two hours or so before I did. Nothing there when she looked, then this. I’d almost forgotten whatit’s like to be jolted like that. It’s been—not saying theQword—workplace productive for a few days.”

“Take it when you can get it,” Owen advised. “Now I’m getting a beer. What’re we eating?”

“I hope you like scallops.”

“I’m a Mainer.”

“I assume that’s a positive for scallops.”

“All-around positive,” Trey assured her. “I haven’t really been able to talk to you, not in depth, about your visit to Gretta.”

“And dropping by Poole Shipbuilders.” Owen handed Trey a beer.

“I can head that up by saying Gretta’s difficult and sad, and Clarice and what I saw of Poole is great.”

“Can’t argue with either. Why is nothing cooking?”

“Here.” Cleo pulled a tray out of the refrigerator. “I did a charcuterie.”

“Fancy word.” Despite the fancy, he popped a slice of summer sausage. “Good.”