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At just past five, Cleo stopped outside the library. “I’ll go away unless you’re about done for the day.”
“I’m about done for the day. It’s just you and me. Trey’s having burgers with Owen.”
“He could’ve brought Owen.”
“I think he wanted to give us a little girl time. He’s coming tomorrow.”
“Okay then. I showed you mine, let’s see yours.”
“I’m working on Doyle Law Offices. I told you Trey’s mom’s a photographer. I got great stuff to work with.”
As Sonya toggled back to the home page, Cleo came around the desk. “That’s their offices? You said it was a Victorian, but wow. It’s beautiful. It looks so not stuffy attorneys-at-law. I like your color palette, picking up the tones of the house, not overwhelming it. Nice clean font on the text, clear info.
“That has to be Ace!” Delighted, Cleo pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Talk about adorable. Natty! That’s the word. How often do you get to usenattyin a sentence?”
Nodding, she scanned the bio. “Impressive. Harvard man, could’ve retired fifteen, twenty years ago, but there he is in his natty three-piece suit with the law books.
“And next?”
“Deuce.”
“Mmm. Handsome, kind eyes, tie loosened. Why is that so sexy?”
In full agreement, she slapped Cleo’s arm. “I know, right?”
“I like how she took him making notes on a legal pad. Handsome, kind-eyed man at work. Oh, well now, and here’s Mr. Third Generation. All long and lean and yummy. It’s a great shot. He’s relaxed, but he’s listening.”
She went through the staff.
“Mrs. Deuce is damn good, as is my BFF. I really like the way you’ve got this easy flow going, and— Oh Jesus, Sonya!”
She laughed and laughed.
“Mookie Doyle, Legal Consultant.”
“I don’t know if they’ll go for it, but I couldn’t resist when I saw she’d taken his picture, too. And the way he’s holding his head, that look in his eyes.
“I’m here for you. Trust me. Oh, they have to use it. It’s genius. If I needed a lawyer, I’d be at their door.”
“We’ll see. I’ve nearly got it to the point I can show them the layout. I’m shutting down. Workday is done.”
In the kitchen, Sonya watched in some amazement as Cleo chopped garlic, peeled and chopped potatoes, a carrot.
“This is serious cooking.”
“I’ve been practicing,” Cleo said. “Since I’m living the dream, my contribution will not suck. We’ll eat reasonably decent meals under my watch. Let me get this going, then I want to see you make bread. Doesn’t that take hours?”
“Not this.” After walking into the butler’s pantry, Sonya came back with a bottle. “The secret’s in the beer.”
And as they spent the evening in the kitchen, at the table, Sonya realized Trey had been right. Some girl time did the trick.
Now and again, Clover joined them with a musical interlude. And now and again, doors opened or closed.
When they came back from walking the dog, all the kitchen cabinets stood open, and the counter stools were stacked on top of each other.
“I wonder if a kid died here.” Cleo started closing doors. “This is silly stuff, kid stuff. Pranks.”
“From what I’ve read so far, not all the children lived to adulthood. You could be right.” Sonya set the stools back in place. “Yoda plays with somebody sometimes.”
