The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

“I do. My fried bologna and American cheese slices sandwich is legendary.”

“And that’s no baloney,” Owen confirmed.

“I’ll take your word on that, since we don’t have any bologna.”

Cleo made it just under the wire. The omelets weren’t pretty, but in Sonya’s judgment, more than relatively tasty.

“You maintain your position as favorite cousin.”

“Good for me. I’m going to grab a shower before we start digging through storage.”

“I thought you wanted to use the gym.”

“I got a quick workout in before you came down. We starting up or down?”

“Let’s start down, but not scary basement down.” Sonya drained the rest of her coffee. “Ever again.”

“Then I’ll meet you back down here.”

Cleo watched him go. “He worked out and made omelets? How early does he get up?”

Trey considered. “I figure if Owen lived on a farm, he’d wake up the rooster.”

Cleo pondered over her coffee. “That’s a problem. Anyway, we have a list.”

“We like lists,” Sonya concurred. And deciding to give Molly a Saturday break, rose to deal with the dishes.

“Not a problem. What’s on it?”

Cleo took out her phone, hit her app, and began to reel them off. “Folding tables and chairs. Potential deck or lawn furniture, planters and/or pots for the deck.”

As the list continued, Trey got up to help Sonya.

“Have you considered the convenience of paper and plastic plates and glasses?”

“An Event, Trey,” Sonya reminded him. “Not a let’s-throw-some-burgers-on-the-grill gathering.”

“I stand corrected. Let’s try this: Hire help.”

“On the list.” Cleo rose to pitch in.

Hair still damp from his shower, Owen came in. “Molly, I guess, made my bed, and put my jeans and sweatshirt on it. Like here, wear these.”

Sonya just smiled. “She’ll do that.”

“It’s weird, the clothes thing’s weird.”

“You’ll get used to it. And if you didn’t, make sure you thank her next time.” Cleo held up the list on her phone. “Let’s get started.”

They went down to the storage area that had once been part of the servants’ wing.

In under five minutes, Cleo dug out a treasure.

“Son, look at these—I guess they’re urns. They could be planters, couldn’t they? They look like rusted metal, in a good way, but they’re stone.”

“I love the pedestal, the classical style. Oh, wouldn’t they look great flanking the front entrance, those fabulous doors? We could try it.”

Resigned, Owen looked at Trey. “This is going to take a while.”