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“Depends on the cat,” Owen told her.

“I’m getting one, as soon as I find the right one. I’ve got the gravy, Sonya. You get one of these big, strong men to take the platter to the table. We’re eating in style tonight.”

“So I see. I’ve got it,” Trey said. “I remember from last time.”

When Trey took it out of the warming oven, Owen blinked.

“Holy shit. That’s a serious pot roast dinner.”

“As the manor’s pot roast genius, I don’t do any other kind.” Sonya grabbed the bread and board.

“You need help with that?” Owen asked Cleo.

“I’ve got it. Just going to ladle it into the boat. You get the wine.”

At the table, Sonya plated the meal for all four of them before she sat.

“Compliments to the chefs,” Trey said.

“Haven’t tried it yet.” Owen sampled the roast. “Okay, now I have. Kudos. It’s better than your mom’s, Trey.”

“She knows. Thanks for this. It’s a lot of work. A lot of trouble.”

“You’re welcome. Speaking of work and trouble, Cleo and I set the date for our Event. Open house the second Saturday in June.”

“We’re talking a bash here.” As doors slammed, Cleo smiled upat the ceiling. “She hates the idea. And that just makes me love it more.”

“This is how you’re taking her on?” Owen wondered. “Throwing a party?”

“That’s a nice little bonus.” Cleo speared a chunk of carrot. “Mostly we want to open the house, fill it up with people, food, drink, music.”

“It’s made for just that,” Sonya added. “When’s the last time there’s been a real event in this house?”

“I’m too young to really remember it, but I’d say Collin and Johanna’s wedding. That didn’t end well,” Trey added.

“There won’t be a bride for Dobbs to murder. And we won’t let her dictate how we live here.”

The lights flicked off, on, off, on. Sonya picked up her wine. Then laughed when, with boosted volume, the iPad in the kitchen rolled out with CeeLo’s “Fuck You.”

“Can’t argue with that,” she said, and drank.

“You want to provoke her.”

“Sometimes.” She met Trey’s eyes and the worry in them. “She’s responsible for the deaths of women in my family for over two hundred years. So yeah, sometimes I want to give her a good shot. But that’s not the reason for the party. We’re going to live here, in this house, in this community. We’re going to be part of it. This is one way.”

“He’s not trying to talk you out of it.” As he spoke, Owen sliced off some more beef. “He has to line up all the facts, suppositions, and motivations. Trey was born a lawyer.” He forked some potato. “Now, if he were trying to talk you out of it, you’d end up talked out of it without realizing you’d been talked out of it.”

Sonya nodded. “I’ve noticed that about him. Most of the time, you’d think going another way was your idea in the first place.”

“You got it.”

“I do. And”—Sonya looked back at Trey—“I like that about him.”

“Good thing. So, how do you get all this done at the same time?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Sonya told Owen. “But that brings us back to the subject of food. Cleo and I thought we’d order food for our Event from the restaurants in town, and see if Bree could give us an idea on hiring servers and bartenders and all the rest.”

“It’s a good idea.” Trey took a slice of bread. “People will come.”