The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

“Do you want one?”

“No. I’m going for chips. And pretending that’s healthy by adding some grapes.”

“Take what I’d rather be eating back up. You can eat at your desk; I can’t at this stage of the work. I’ll let Pye and Yoda back in.”

Upstairs, and with the contract signed and sealed, she started on her new law firm client.

Slightly more formal, she thought, more urban than the Doyles’. She wouldn’t want to mimic their colors or look in any case.

She began to experiment with a color wheel. Selected three two-combination choices for the template.

As she worked, she heard the ball bounce downstairs, and smiled when Yoda deserted her.

So he’d be entertained while she worked.

Eventually, Clover played “Five O’Clock World.”

“Okay, okay, nearly ready to stop anyway. Take another look in the morning. And when a man’s bringing you pizza, you should spruce up a little.”

She went to her bedroom to do just that. She hadn’t intended to change her work clothes, but Molly had laid out a blue sweater and gray pants.

“I was just going to do some makeup, but okay. This is nicer.” When she came out, Cleo walked out of her own room.

“You changed.” Cleo pointed at her.

“You, too.”

“I was going to anyway, but Molly cut the time in half by laying out this very pretty shirt and these flattering pants. Good day’s work?”

“Yes. You?”

“Same. I say it’s glass-of-wine time, and we take it outside, drink it to the sounds of the sea.”

“Let’s do just that.”

Outside, the air blew cool and light, and the sky held a pale, tender blue. Daffodils blew their fluttery trumpets with the scent of hyacinths answering the call.

Spring flirted around the edges of everything.

As they walked to the seawall, Yoda trotted around sniffing at the greening grass, scouting out places to lift his leg and make his mark.

“It’s so clear.” Cleo pointed toward the bay, where like the sky, the water spread blue. “It’s like the village, the lighthouse, and the cliffs are etched in glass. I may set my easel out here sometime and paint from this perspective.”

“And sail in the bay in your mermaid boat on a summer Sunday.”

“Absolutely.” When the cat leaped onto the wall, sat as if taking stock of her empire, Cleo smiled and sipped. “Maybe I’ll take Pye sailing. I bet they make life jackets for cats.”

Sonya joined Pye on the wall, then looked back at the house. “I want to see that tree bloom. That’s my major spring goal.”

“I’ve got a four-season project in mind, painting it in every season. You should paint with me. We haven’t done that in forever.”

“Because my canvas work looks like a moderately talented high schooler’s beside yours.”

“Not true.” Cleo gave Sonya’s leg a light slap. “And we’d have fun. I’m going to have a lot of fun when I take my short sabbatical and paint when I want, whatever I want.”

“Are you thinking about giving up illustrating?”

Shaking her head, Cleo scooted up on the wall beside Sonya. “No. Not only does it pay for my shoe collection, but I like it too much. I’m in a position now to be pickier about the jobs I take, though, and space them out so I can do more fine art.