The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

It made her remember, when she’d looked at hotels for her aborted wedding, she’d wanted something just like this. With history and that welcoming aura, rather than the slick and grandiose Brandon had insisted on.

Then she set that memory well aside.

She parked in the lot near those gardens and walked in the warming air to the front entrance and the doorman.

“Good afternoon. Checking in?”

“No, I’m here for lunch at Waterside.”

“Straight back through the lobby, on your right. Enjoy.”

She walked in, and fell in love with the coziness and the melding of grand and rustic. Light showered down from the candlestick bulbs on iron chandeliers. The big fieldstone fireplace with logs snapping under its floating mantel added warmth and more welcome.

People lounged in chairs or sofas having coffee or a drink—and she noted some had shopping bags beside them from the village.

The art on the walls depicted different views of the village, the bay, the marina. And one where the manor stood, high above on its rugged cliff.

Recognizing the style, she walked closer and read Collin Poole’s signature in the corner.

So, in his way, he was here, too, she thought. And so was the manor.

Because of that, she felt only more welcome.

She crossed the tile floor with its central mosaic of a gull in flight over the bay, and turned into the restaurant.

A smaller fire simmered here, and wide windows brought in the bay. Anna sat at a table with that sweeping view beside her.

She wore a knee-length red dress that showed off her baby bump with pride. Short black hair framed a face that lit up with a smile when she saw Sonya.

“I just got here. I was about—Oh! Your hair. It’s fabulous.”

“I owe it all to Jodi of Jodi’s.”

“She knows what she’s doing. Really, it looks terrific.”

“So do you. And I love this hotel! God, what a view.”

“One of my favorites.”

When the waiter stepped to the table, offering drinks, Sonya ordered water, flat.

“I warn you,” Anna said when he stepped away, “I’m allowed one glass of wine a week. I intend today to be that day, and I’m not going to drink alone.”

“Cleo and I won’t let that happen. What’s a girl lunch in such a great place without one glass of wine? And there’s Cleo now.”

“God, she always looks amazing.”

“I know. If I didn’t love her, I’d hate her.”

“Am I late?”

“We both just got here,” Sonya told her.

“Good. I hate to be late for fun. And look at your hair!”

“I’m now suitably chastised about my anxiety, and a devoted fan of Jodi’s Salon. I’d almost forgotten how much I like salons. The vibe, the gossip, the chance to focus on yourself for an hour or two.

“And”—she gave Cleo a poke—“Micah is the one for you. According to everyone in there.”