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Trey sat back. “Dad. There’s nothing that says it was anything but an accident.”
“Nothing but hindsight. The last conversations we had.” Absently, he patted the dog’s head when Mookie laid it on his knee. “I told you, he’d bring her up, ask me to be sure to convince her to come, to take over the manor. He wasn’t sad, and I never thought suicidal, but he was… absent somehow. As if he’d already left. Still, I couldn’t convince him to contact her. He’d just smile, tell me he would when the time was right.”
“Which goes back to him thinking he had that time.”
Deuce just nodded. “Ah well. You’ll keep looking after her.”
“I wouldn’t call it that. I’m betting she wouldn’t like calling it that.”
“You’re right there. Just check in on her now and then.” He cupped the dog’s face, rubbed. “Take this one. She’s thinking about getting a dog. You should send her the information for where you got this mutt right here.”
“I can do that.”
“Good. I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Dad,” Trey said as his father rose. “She strikes me as a capable, self-reliant woman.”
“Yes. And she’ll need to be.”
Sonya’s phone rang just as she pulled up to the manor. She pulled it out as she parked, held her breath as she saw Anna Doyle on the ID.
“This is Sonya. Hi, Anna.”
“I was working, so I didn’t get to the phone. Then when I did, I had to look at everything, then look at it again. And again. I love it. I love it all. You’re a genius.”
Sonya let out the breath. “That’s true, but it’s always nice to have my genius recognized.”
“I want Option One—the whole package. I love the use of color, the streamlined style that still manages to be friendly. And! How it looks on my phone!”
Sonya shook a fist in the air, as she’d hoped for Option One. “Putting you on speaker so I can get the bags out of my car.”
“Oh, I can call you back.”
“No, that’s fine.” She hauled the bags out of the back seat of her car, juggled them and the phone while she dug for the house keys. “I need all the photos and descriptions to build the shopping pages, then the shopping cart. We need to finalize your bio and so on—that list I attached—and we’re ready to—”
She broke off as something drew her eye up. As on the first day, she saw a shadow at the window. She’d have sworn the curtain moved. Then she shifted a bag, and it was gone.
“Ready to?”
“Sorry, distracted.” Just the way the light hits the window at this angle, she decided, and walked to the portico.
“Ready to launch your social media.”
“Yeah, that’s my hitch.”
“I can get it up and running, and keep it updated for you. As long as you give me those updates. But you need that presence.”
She unlocked the door, dumped the bags.
“Let’s start with the photos,” she said as she took off her coat. “And the bio.”
“I dragged my mother into my studio today to take pictures of me at the wheel, and moving a piece through to firing. She’s a really good photographer. Some of her work’s at the same shop mine is.”
“I was in that shop today. I bought one of your pots.”
“Hooray.”
“Send me the pictures.” After hanging up her coat, she went back for the bags to carry them upstairs. “We’ll start there, and I’ll finish the design for the brochure.”
