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“Oh, those are beautiful wineglasses.” Cleo took one, studied it.

“I know. Handblown, and I love that pale green in the stem. I’m getting them for my aunt Summer, for Christmas. And this dragonfly bowl? My grandmother—Dad’s mom—loves dragonflies. And see that adorable birdhouse with the copper roof? My grandfather’s big into birds, so—”

“Christmas.” Cleo pushed the wineglass back at her. “Why didn’t I think of that? I’m going to get busy.”

By the time they drove home, with the back seat full of shopping bags and boxes, they’d decided to reimagine one of the third-floor rooms into a gift/wrapping room.

“I think the sitting room that faces the back. Still a terrific view, woods, gardens, but not as distracting as the water.”

Cleo hunched her shoulders in a happy sigh. “Great minds. It’s justbig enough, has a small but decent closet. We should have shelves in there, though. And we need a good table for wrapping.”

Sonya tossed her hair, shot Cleo a grin. “Let’s go find one.”

An hour later, they stood in the sitting room with Trey and Owen.

“The sofa and the little side tables stay, but we’ll move them over there.” Sonya gestured as she talked. “Those two chairs would go into storage. We’ll switch out the art later, put some of our own up, we think. But there’s a cabinet—a wardrobe—up in the attic that can go over there, and a table—it’s just right—that’ll go by the windows.”

She sent Trey her most charming smile. “It’ll all fit. We measured.”

“How did we get to be weekend furniture movers?” Owen wondered.

“For beer and food,” Cleo told him. “I’m making shrimp étouffée. You’ll like it.”

“Well.” Trey scratched his head. “From that mountain of shopping bags, I get the concept. But are you sure you want to do all this up here?”

“Cleo already works up here, right across the hall. It’s a good purpose for this room, this space. And it’s another way to take ownership.”

“The last is more the answer to why here.”

“Maybe. Yes, maybe. She doesn’t get to dictate how we use the manor or anything in it. Except,” she had to admit, “the Gold Room. But that’s temporary.”

“Let’s get started. At least we’re not hauling stuff all the way downstairs.” Owen shook his head at the shopping bags. “I don’t even want to think about the insanity of buying Christmas presents in May.”

When they stood in the attic in front of the wardrobe they’d uncovered, Owen ran a hand over the wood. “She’s a beauty, and weighs about as much as my truck.”

“It’ll be perfect,” Sonya enthused. “The doors on the side have some shelves, and the drawers at the bottom are great. The center mirrored doors, just lovely.” She pulled it open. “If we just take out the hanging rail and—”

“No.” Owen cut that off like an axe through wood. “This doesn’t move an inch if you’re going to fuck it up.”

“We were just thinking of—”

“No.”

“He won’t budge on that,” Trey said.

“Then we’ll need more shelves. In the closet.”

“He can do that.” Owen jerked a thumb at Trey. “That’s grunt work he can handle.”

“Thank you very much.”

“Truth.” As if already feeling the pings and knots, Owen rolled his shoulders.

It might not have been as heavy as a truck, but it took the four of them to move, carry, maneuver it. The table Owen identified as a huntboard proved easier.

When both pieces sat in place, Sonya did a little dance, and Clover fell back on one of her favorites with Queen and “We Are the Champions.”

“They’re perfect. You’re the best!”