Lib Novel Page 161
“It’s going to be perfect. I’m going to order supplies—after we get the invitations out, and probably after the trip to Boston. And you know what? After Boston, Cleo and I are going to pick another room, put our stamp on it.”
They spent the day dealing with invitations, going over the proposed menu—in detail—Bree sent them.
“I can run into the village and mail these tomorrow. Or”—Cleo wiggled her eyebrows—“we could see if Anna and Bree are up for lunch. Hang out, finalize the menu.”
“I like that or.”
“I thought you might. Plus, you’re starting to count down the days to Boston.” She tapped Sonya’s head. “And this’ll distract you in a fun way.”
“It will. I’m telling myself I can be as nervous as I want now, so I’m finished with it before Boston. I’ll go text both of them.”
It did distract her, and in a fun way. And likely reading her nerves and her countdown, Trey took everyone out for pizza the next night, showed up for dinner the rest of the week.
And one night he arrived with shelves for the closet.
“These are perfect. Thank you.”
“You got very specific about spacing when I asked.”
“I did. We measured.”
“We’re about to find out if we’re both right on it.” Before he picked up the first shelf, he took a look around the room. “You’ve added some things in here.”
“Cleo mostly, seeing as she’s on sabbatical. Crystals, candles, the suncatcher in the window—hers. Protection, apparently.”
“And you switched out the art. Nice choices. Cleo’s work?”
“Most of it.”
“Wait a minute.” He walked closer to a meadow of wildflowers, hills shadowed in the distance. “S MacT? This is yours.”
“Just something I did in college.”
“It’s great.”
She sent him an indulgent smile. “So says the man who sleeps with me.”
“So says the man looking at something beautiful. And this one, too. Boston, right? The river. I didn’t know you could do this.”
“It’s not what my mother calls my passion, and she’s right. I enjoy it now and then.”
“Only now and then?”
She lifted her shoulders. “Artistically, I guess my interests and talents fall into the more practical areas. So graphic art suits me, and satisfies me.
“Cleo dug them out, hung them up. And it is nice having our work here together, like our personal gallery.”
“Any objections from down the hall?”
“Not so far. They’ll come.” She glanced behind her. “Let them come.”
Bells rang, windows rattled, the doorbell bonged now and then when no one was there. Sonya brushed those off as she did the occasional slamming door or cold wash of wind.
She had more important things to deal with than the tantrums of a dead witch.
Top of her list as she packed for Boston: what to wear for her presentation.
Trey looked both wary and aggrieved as she held up yet another choice.