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It didn’t budge.
She tried again, again, and felt the first tickles of panic in her throat.
She’d unlocked the door. Unlocked it, then checked to make sure. Now she yanked at the handle, nearly pounded on the door.
The wind came up, sudden, frigid, blowing what felt like needles of ice in her face. And with it images blew into her mind—walking barefoot through a blizzard in a nightgown. Walking toward a woman standing at the seawall.
She looked over her shoulder, half terrified she’d see a figure standing there. A woman in black.
But she saw only the snow and the sea behind it.
Shaking now, she pulled her phone out of her pocket. She’d call Trey. Embarrassing, yes, but—
Even as she started to punch in his contact, she heard a thunk. Like a lock turning.
And when she tried the door again, it opened smoothly.
She rushed in, slammed and locked the door behind her. As she leaned back against it, heart pounding, she knew her eyes were wide and wild.
Deliberately, she closed them.
“It was probably stuck. Just stuck. I unlocked it, and it was unlocked, so it jammed for a minute. That’s all. And the rest, stupid panic.”
She pulled off her boots, carried them to the closet, carefully hung up her coat, unwound her scarf. Though she’d lost her yen for hot chocolate, she followed the agenda.
No handy packets of Swiss Miss in the cupboards, or in the butler’s pantry. She did find a fancy canister with instructions, so she got out a pan and followed them.
No handy canister of Reddi-wip either, but a small carton of whipping cream.
She was not going that far, so she’d take her hot chocolate naked.
Feeling better, she went up to the library. For whatever reason, that room felt like hers. She sat by the fire, sipped hot chocolate.
Then pulled out her phone when it signaled a text. From Anna.
Somehow I’ve got to not work when you’re doing a big reveal. I’m flabbergasted! And I don’t flabbergast easy. The shopping pages are a kind of miracle. I know you haven’t finished, but everything looks wonderful, and it works so smoothly. The About page makes me impressed with myself. I love the way you used the photos my mother took yesterday.
Great. Now get me a video, with audio. I’m going to do a widget.
And, Sonya thought, use it to launch you on TikTok at some point—but no need to scare you off.
I don’t know what a widget is, but I’m for it. I’ll work on it. When this is all done, I’m taking you to lunch. I swear, if I wasn’t married and pregnant, I’d marry you and have your baby.
While that’s tempting, we’ll stick with lunch. I’ll get your social media up sometime within the next ten days, so watch for that heading your way.
I will. TY. Anna
A good day, Sonya thought. In spite of a stuck door, a good day.
As she put her foot on the coffee table, her tablet played Michael Bublé’s “Home.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
In the evening, she decided to spend some time with the Poole family tree, a glass of wine. Then maybe she’d start one of the new books she’d bought or switch over to another movie.
As Deuce had told her, she found the book in Collin’s office. A coffee-table style, bound in brown leather.
A caring friend, she thought as she carried it and the wine back to the library.
