Page 40 of The Seven Rings
“You know I love a good process, but systematically doesn’t work for me up here.”
“You go your way, I’ll go mine.”
They high-fived, separated.
Sonya uncovered what she thought qualified as a hall rack—enormous with a storage seat—empty. She imagined people had hung their hats, coats on the brass hooks, stored boots inside the seat.
She found a washstand, and immediately wanted it in one of the bathrooms. Pretty hand towels on the bar, she envisioned, an old bowl and pitcher, a tiny vase of flowers.
In her search through the drawers she found a small box. It held little silver bars, very tarnished. The monogram etched in each readHCP.
“Hugh Charles Poole,” she murmured. When she heard Trey coming back, she called out to him. “I found these in this washstand—that’s also going down somewhere. They’re monogrammed. I don’t know what they are. Not nail files, they’re silver.”
“Collar stays.”
“Collar stays?”
“Yeah, mostly plastic now, I guess.” He pointed at the invisible collar on his T-shirt. “They give the collar structure.”
“He used this stand. Marianne’s husband, Owen and Jane’s father. Lisbeth’s grandfather. Maybe in his dressing room. He used these in his shirts. All these things.”
She set the box on the stand, looked around.
“People used these pieces of the manor day after day, night after night.”
“Don’t hate me,” Cleo said as she came through holding a lamp with a clear glass dome. “But I think this would be the perfect desk lamp for— What’s wrong, Sonya?”
“Collar stays.” She shook her head, swiped at a tear. “It’s weird what will hit the emotions. Hugh Poole’s collar stays. And that lamp is perfect. I’m adding on a project.”
“I hope it includes this.” Cleo set the lamp on the washstand. “It belongs in the bathroom near my studio.”
“Also perfect. Display cabinet. There’s bound to be one, glass front. Maybe two of them, or one big one. We’ll know when we find it. I want things like the collar stays—once I polish them up. Lisbeth’s fountain pen. Little everyday things, important things, personal things. In the Gold Room, with the photos.”
“A walk through Poole history,” Trey said. “That’s a good project, and I think you’re finding these things so you can do just that.”
“And I think this is why you’re here, Son. Why this is your house, and your quest. It’s a quest, the seven rings.”
Hands on hips, Sonya looked around. “Not getting very far on that.”
“Farther than anyone else,” Trey corrected. “The portraits in the music room. They’re part of it. The mirror, what you’ve seen on the other side of it. Those are reasons why something like these”—he picked up the box of stays—“why it matters to you.”
“It does matter, so let’s keep going.”
When Owen returned, he found Sonya in the kitchen taking the next step in pulled pork. Removing the lid.
“Smells like you know what you’re doing.”
“You don’t have to know what you’re doing if you follow directions. Remove lid, cook another one to two hours. So I’m going with an hour and a half.”
As the dogs decided to greet Jones with madness, Owen opened the back door. Three dogs and one cat bounded out.
“How’s the search going?”
“Well, we haven’t stumbled across seven wedding rings, but it’s going well in other areas. I’ll show you the guest office on the way up.”
“Any interference?”
“She tossed some cold air at me, and that’s about it.” She turned, and noticed what she’d missed. Her hand reached up to her heart. “Oh, he took them.”
