Page 112

“Yes, me, too.”

“I saw her waiting tables, and traveling, and on that farm she showed me. Hoeing weeds, harvesting carrots—I think. The psychedelic bus she left in.”

“I thought the hippie thing, the counterculture thing, was later. Like late in the sixties.”

“I’ve researched it some. Its roots go back further. She and Charlie missed the full bloom, but they were in on the bud, you could say. I saw when they met. He was—not holding court, that’s wrong, but talking to a group of people about peaceful protests. He talked about Gandhi and Martin Luther King, how he’d gone to DC, heard King’s speech, heard Joan Baez, Bob Dylan. About using art and music to spread the message of peace and justice and equality.”

“He was magnetic, Cleo. Young and passionate and magnetic. When I saw him before, when the twins were born, he was so scared, struggling to hold on to Clover, to help her, to be strong. But he was terrified.”

“She showed you another part of him, too.”

“Yeah. He came back here for her, for the family they were making, for the world they wanted to build. And he wanted marriage not just because he loved her, and he did, but to protect her—legally—from his mother. He was smart enough to understand that.

“I saw them on their wedding day, two young, happy people making promises to each other, dancing in a country meadow. It was so lovely.”

“She gave you a gift, and through that a gift to me.” Moved, Cleo swiped at a tear. “You’re going to share it.”

“With Trey, yeah. And Owen.”

“And your mom. You should send this to her, Sonya. Send your mom what you wrote. I think it’s a gift to her, too.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. You’re a hundred percent. I will.”

“Good.” Now Cleo let out a long sigh. “This hit all my feels. Every one of them. I need to pull myself and everything else together before Bree gets here. Unless you want to postpone that.”

“Absolutely not. They were going to open this house, Cleo. We’re not doing it in the same way—I’m not going to deal with chickens and goats—but we’re opening the house to people and art and music. To community.”

“Glad to hear the no-go on chickens and goats.” She gave Sonya a pat, rose. “We’re going to do those herbs, though, maybe some tomatoes and peppers, but that’s as close to farm girls as we’d ever get.”

“Just close enough. I’ll send this to Mom, but I think I’ll wait until after her workday. Then we can talk if she wants.”

“Maybe FaceTime so I can get in on it.”

“Done. I’m going to work until Bree gets here.”

She got in a solid hour before Yoda took his barking race down the steps. For the first time since her Saturday tantrum, Dobbs banged doors.

“Don’t like that company’s coming?” Sonya saved her work, shut down. “Suck it.”

She started downstairs as the doorbell bonged.

Bree, red hair a cap of fire, tattoos displayed below the pushed-up sleeves of her sweater, stood a few steps back from the door, goggling.

“Big wow. I’m talking big-ass, giant wow.”

“This can’t be the first time you’ve been up here.”

“Yeah, it can. Oh, you mean since Trey and me had a thing backwhen.” She stepped inside, goggled some more. “More big-ass wow. He used to come up, hang out, play video games or whatever. I wasn’t into gaming back then, and I worked summers, weekends, and all that. I’m surprised we found time to have sex.”

She stopped, winced. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Weirder if you didn’t.”

“There is that. So this is Yoda, and the cat.” Crouching, she used one hand on each to rub. “I’ll make sure to tell Lucy they’re happy, healthy, and living in fucking splendor.

“Talk about a staircase made for your grand entrances. Hey, Cleo. Well, I want a tour. I want to at least see what you’re going to let people poke into.”

“I think we’ll leave the downstairs closed. At least unless one of us is with them. There’s a gym and a movie theater, but also a lot of storage areas.”