The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

“I will, either way.”

“I’m proud of you either way, but now I really don’t want that jerk to get it.”

“Right there with her,” Cleo said when they got in the car. “If it’s as pretty at home as it is here today? I’m unpacking, then taking my easel outside. Paint with me.”

“Cleo.”

“Come on. I know Trey texted and said not to worry about getting Yoda and Pye. They’ll bring them and dinner tonight, and yay to that. But it’ll be noon easy before we get home. Then we have to unpack, take a breath. Who starts their workday at like one in the afternoon? We worked hard. Let’s play.”

The day stayed pretty, making up for a couple of rounds of ugly traffic. The sight of the manor, rising up when she rounded the last turn, made Sonya’s heart clutch in a way she hoped never got old.

“Cleo, the tree.”

“I see. Oh, when all those flowers open, it’ll be spectacular.”

A few had, giving a hint of beauty to come. Delicate pink dripping from those curved and twisted branches whisperedSpring, spring, spring.

“The garden center’s going up a couple places on our do-it list.”

“I’m buying a hat.” Cleo got out of the car, stretched. “Next trip to town I’m getting a cute gardening hat.”

“You have your adorable painting outside hat.”

“And your point?”

“I have none,” Sonya admitted.

“God, what a gorgeous afternoon. We’re painting. I won’t take no.”

The minute Sonya opened the front door, her phone broke out with “Can’t Stop the Feeling!”

“We’re happy we’re back, too.”

They hauled in suitcases, shopping bags, laptop cases, and ignored the counterpoint of doors slamming on the third floor.

Sonya took a breath.

“It’s big, it’s beautiful, it’s haunted. And it’s ours.”

“Unpack, gather supplies, then we’ll paint this gorgeous day.”

“Quick stop to check my email, texts, and so on. Text Mom we’re home, and do the same with Trey.”

“That’s allowed.”

“It’s too soon to hear from Ryder, but I have to check or I’ll obsess.”

“Of course you do, and of course you would. When do you think?” Cleo asked as they started upstairs.

“By the end of the week, maybe. Better if it’s into next week. I’m thinking the longer it takes, the better my chances. A quick decision probably leans toward By Design. So I’m going to check, then put it out of my mind.”

When she found no communication from Burt Springer, she considered it a good sign. Maybe she couldn’t put it completely out of her mind, she thought as she unpacked, but she could push it into the back.

She dug out the shirt of her father’s she used as a smock on the rare occasions she painted. It made her think of him, feel close to him.

She had a set of his brushes she’d packed away, and one of his easels, a palette.

When she walked out with Cleo to set up, she looked around.