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Between bites and sips, Owen set the table while Sonya began the process of cooking while having conversations.

She muttered Bree’s recipe’s warning as she sautéed the scallops.

“Do not overcook, do not overcook.”

“So Gretta recognized the makeup case?”

“Mmm.” She nodded at Trey. “And I think that’s how I was able to get her to say more about what happened with my father and Collin. A lot of pent-up rage there, which came out in the nasty drawing and a lot of f-bombs.”

“Who wouldn’t have rage, pressured to give up what she wanted, to pretend she’d given birth, to raise a child she didn’t want?”

Owen shrugged at Trey. “She could’ve said no. And yeah, yeah, nobody’s saying it was easy to say no to Patricia Poole, but she was an adult, and Jesus, had the advantage of money her mother couldn’t take away from her. If she’d had a spine and half a heart, she’d’ve taken both those kids and told the goddamn truth.”

“I’m going to agree with Owen.” Cleo gave Sonya’s back a quickrub. “It seemed to me she was blaming everyone but herself. Charlie, Clover, her mother. But she doesn’t take any of the responsibility.”

“She has dementia,” Trey began.

“True, but did she ever take responsibility?”

“No, not that I’ve ever heard,” Owen added. “But she is, and was, who she is and was. It’s too bad. There would’ve been plenty of Poole relations who’d have taken both kids.

“And fuck, sorry, Sonya. That sounds like I’m tossing your father’s parents aside.”

“No, it doesn’t. I understand what you meant, and it’s true. But we’ve said it before. My father got the happy end of that situation. Gretta played Collin’s mother out of duty, and under duty was that pent-up rage and resentment. And as far as I know, she never let that rage or resentment out, never took it out in an abusive way on Collin.”

“No.” Trey shook his head. “I’d have heard from my father if she had.”

“Flat,” Owen said. “That’s how I remember her. No real ups, no real downs. Just flat.”

“Because she gave up.” Cleo put a platter by the stove. “When she gave in to her mother, she didn’t just give up New York, she gave up everything.”

When they sat down to eat, Trey sampled a bite, then grinned at Sonya. “Hiding your talents.”

“More of a limited skill. But I’ve got this one down. It’s good.”

“It’s damn good. A damn good reward for a couple of long days.” Owen toasted her with his beer.

Clover chimed in with Bowie’s “Heroes.”

All in all, Sonya considered it one of the best weeks at the manor.

And though she woke at three, she didn’t walk. Instead, she stood with Trey at the glass doors and watched Hester Dobbs take her fall.

PART THREEThe Living and the Dead

I can call spirits from the vasty deep.

—William Shakespeare

Chapter Twenty-one

May arrived and brought tulips, and fat buds on the twisty branches of the weeping tree. And May meant another Saturday in the village, at Bay Arts’ May Day event.

She loved seeing Anna’s work displayed, and her friend cheerfully talking to customers and other artists.

Maybe it was barely more than another week before Boston and the promised shopping trip, and maybe it was only May. But there was so much right here, so many interesting, unique things.

She started her Christmas shopping.