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Sonya went downstairs, got coffee, let the dog out.
What was it, she thought, about daylight that made everything that went bump—and bang—in the night seem distant?
Foolish really, because plenty of things bumped and banged in the manor in the clear light of day. But for the moment, she’d take that foolish distance.
She got back to work on the florist job, and made personal notes for what she now termed The Event on where she’d want flower arrangements.
She looked up as Cleo rapped knuckles on the doorjamb.
“I’m off to my photo shoot.”
“God, you look gorgeous.”
“I do, don’t I?” She’d tossed an open white shirt over a boldly red sports bra and yoga pants with a muddled black-and-red pattern.She’d worked her hair into a thick braid and added the sparkle of studs to her ears.
“I really should go.”
“You really should not. I’ll see you later.”
“Have Corrine send me shots as you go.” Popping up, Sonya rushed to the head of the stairs as Cleo walked down. “Don’t look directly at the camera. You’re doing yoga poses, but you’re not posing.”
Cleo just waved a hand in the air as she turned to get a jacket out of the closet. And kept going.
“Don’t forget to—”
Cleo closed the door behind her, decisively.
Clover countered Sonya’s muttered curse with the Eagles’ “Take It Easy.”
“Fine. Fine. It’s all fine.” Irritated, she went back to her desk, plopped down. Then popped up again when she heard the front door open.
“Hey! I just want to say you should—”
She broke off. The door stood open, but no one stood there. And she clearly heard Cleo’s car driving down the road.
As she watched, the door swung shut again. The doorbell rang. Yoda raced down, his barks echoing.
“Nobody’s there. Come on back upstairs.”
Doors slammed up and down the halls, quick bullet cracks. The servants’ door shuddered and creaked. Though her heart tripped, Sonya strode downstairs to scoop up the dog.
“We’re going to ignore her, okay?”
As she passed it, the servants’ door opened so she heard the distant ring of the call bell. On a spurt of temper, Sonya shoved it closed before she turned into the library.
Her tablet played “Evil Woman.”
“I’ve got that.”
As the doorbell rang again, she considered closing the library doors, but decided it struck too close to hiding.
Instead, she sat down, soothing Yoda in her lap.
“Go ahead!” she shouted. “Waste your time and energy. I’m not going anywhere. This is my house. You’re just a pest that needs to be exterminated.”
The wind streamed through the room, icy and fierce. It sent Sonya’s mood boards toppling, sketchbooks sailing. Overhead the ceiling pendants swayed like boats in a stormy sea. She clutched Yoda with one arm, gripped the edge of the desk with her other hand as her chair started to lift off the floor.
It trembled inches above the floor as her muscles screamed and strained to hold it in place.
