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After she disconnected, Sonya caught herself reaching for the oven door.
“No, I’m not going to peek in under a minute. Let’s clean this disaster up, Yoda, and take that walk.”
As she started to deal with the unquestionable mess she’d made, she heard a mechanical hum.
“What the hell was that? Did you hear that?”
With Yoda at her heels, she followed the hum into the butler’s pantry.
“That’s the dumbwaiter, isn’t it? Oh shit, that’s the dumbwaiter. I… I think it’s coming back up now. Coming back up from downstairs.”
She clasped her hands together while the dog sniffed at the cabinet.
He didn’t growl, not even when she heard a soft thunk and the humming stopped.
“I have to look, don’t I? It’s my house, fuck it all, so I have to look. Then I have to deal with… I don’t know until I look.”
She stepped forward and, after a long breath, pulled the cabinet door open.
Inside sat a large serving platter with painted copper handles and rim. A dozen star-shaped flowers circled that rim, with a single one centered.
Carefully, as if it might explode at her touch, she lifted it out.
“Well, it’s beautiful. It sort of has a blue luster, right? It looks old, and…” She turned it over. “Jesus, it’s Limoges. This is hand-painted. Look here, it was a wedding gift. It’s painted on the back. For Lisbeth on her wedding day. June 12, 1916.
“She was one of the brides,” Sonya murmured. “I remember her name from the book. On the family tree Deuce did. I guess someone thinks I should use it.”
As carefully as she’d taken it out, she set it on the counter in the butler’s pantry. “And I guess I could. It’s too beautiful to just sit down there in storage.”
From her tablet, David Bowie sang “Right.”
Sonya pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Gotta overlook the creepy. I don’t know how, but I really have to do that. So, we’re going to clean up this mess, then take a walk. A nice long, quiet walk. And if that damn pot roast doesn’t completely fail, we’ll use Lisbeth’s platter.”
Chapter Seventeen
After dealing with the mess, after the long, calming walk with Yoda, Sonya peeked a couple of times. But what amazed her was the scent. And the scent permeating the house was gorgeous.
It boosted confidence when she moved to a new stage. Dress for dinner.
She went with a navy cowl-neck paired with tights and booties. Then spent far too long working her hair back into a French braid. Which reminded her she had to make the firm decision about a stylist soon.
Doors slammed on the third floor loudly enough to make her jump and for Yoda to snap out a series of barks.
“She’s just trying to get us upset. So we won’t be. We’re going down. I’m going to make a nice charcuterie board. I’m good at that one.”
Picking up the dog, she rubbed her cheek to his as she walked. “We’re going to set a really pretty table. Something else I’m good at.”
As she reached the landing, the slamming became a pounding. Her heartbeat matched it, but she continued down.
“It’s like a tantrum, that’s all. A bitch fest.”
Outside, the sound of the sea became a roar, and a sudden, vicious gale hurled rain and sleet against the windows. In her arms, the dog whined and trembled.
She clutched him tight, maybe a little too tight as her pulse jumped and raced.
“It’s not real. It’s like the night with the blizzard that wasn’t there.” And still gooseflesh popped out on her arms.
Not real, not real, she repeated over and over in her head.
