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After making herself some tea, she settled down in the library with her book while Yoda napped.
Clover played a medley of artists and eras, and Sonya read about the hunt for a serial killer who collected the eyeballs of his victims.
“Gruesome,” she said as she closed the book. “I loved it.”
As she gave some vague thoughts to dinner and a movie, Trey texted.
Why do weddings suck up an entire weekend? Wedding brunch this morning, then I’m pulled into a post-wedding drinks and dinner where I’m limited to one beer as DD, driving my grandparents home. If we ever leave.
Hope your weekend with your mom required less energy.
Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?
Weddings are a once-in-a-lifetime event. Everyone hopes, anyway. Had a great weekend with my mom, wherein I stunned her with my success with Bree’s recipe. I owe the chef major thanks. And you can absolutely take me to dinner tomorrow.
Congrats. I’ll shoot to get to you by seven.
How were Great-aunt Marilyn and Great-uncle Lloyd?
Marilyn and Lloyd were, and are, in their usual form. Only sharpened by the fact Anna and my cousin Liam’s wife, Gwen, are both pregnant. I’ve got to get back to the table. See you tomorrow night.
Too soon to sign off with a heart emoji, she decided. After some internal debate she admitted fell on the silly side, she settled on a smiley face with red lips and long eyelashes.
When you had to fret over emojis, she thought, your dating skills needed honing.
Down in the kitchen again, she fed the dog, warmed up some leftovers. When theI’m hometext from her mother came through, no need to fret over emojis.
She treated herself to a face mask, opted to go all in with a hair mask, then a long, indulgent shower.
By nine, in her pajamas, she snuggled down on the second floor of the library with Yoda. After the serial killer, she leaned toward something light as a palate cleanser.
With some regret, she scrolled past several horror movies and settled on a comedy.
And by ten, she’d drifted off to sleep. Shortly after, into dreams.
Chapter Twenty-two
The mirror glowed. Its glass blurred with color and movement. Around its frame, the predators’ eyes seemed to gleam.
Dimly, she heard music, voices, a quick, bright laugh.
She stepped through.
And stood in the ballroom under the brilliant light of a trio of chandeliers.
Rather than shrouded furniture crowding the space, divans and chairs in deep colors ran along the walls, and the floors shined under that sparkling light.
An orchestra played. Harp, violin, flute, what she thought might be a piccolo. And yes, she recognized the piano from the music room.
Men wearing waistcoats and high collars danced with women in long gowns, many with elaborate sleeves, bell-shaped skirts. Some women wore feathers in their hair, or elaborate pins.
Jewels glittered as the dancers circled the room in a waltz.
Others sat in the seats tucked back against the walls. More stood with drinks in hand by tables ladened with food.
Crystal flutes of champagne sparkled under the light that showered from the chandeliers.
She saw the bride, regal in her white gown, the satin, the lace, the tiara crowning her black hair.
