Page 133 of The Seven Rings
“A lot of threads to tie, but he’s good at it.”
“Poole Shipbuilders are on board. That’s from the top,” Owen added. “We’ll pledge a sizable donation—amount still under discussion—put some of the Poole business history in, snag naming rights on one of the rooms or sections.”
“Naming rights. I hadn’t thought of that. I wonder… Why are you smiling like that?” she asked Trey.
“Pretty sure I know where this is going.”
“Oh yeah?” She picked up her wine. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“The Collin Poole and Andrew MacTavish Room.”
“You know her,” Cleo murmured. “And got it in one.”
“He did.” Under the table, Sonya squeezed his hand. “It honorsthem both, and it puts my father’s connection to the manor right out there, where it belongs. I don’t know how that sort of thing works, but—”
“I do.” Lifting her hand, he kissed it. “We’ll make it happen.”
As they finished their mains, the redheaded missile that was Chef Bree shot out, nudged Trey, and plopped down.
Her face still flushed from the kitchen, she pointed at Owen first. “The bass?”
“You see any left here?”
“I do not. FYI, you’re all sharing the Heaven on Earth and the passion fruit mousse. And you’re welcome. You”—she leaned around Trey to point at Sonya—“good idea about the museum.”
“You heard about it?”
“Word gets around. Pretty sure Ace Doyle made sure of that.” She beamed at Cleo. “You did pretty well on the shrimp.”
“I’d have done better if I’d bypassed the jalapeño hush puppies.”
“No one can. Anyway, my news. Manny and I are making it official.”
Trey managed to keep his jaw from dropping. “You’re getting married?”
“What?” She snorted, slapped his arm. “Dude! No. Later for that if this works out. We’re not just moving in together. We’re renting a house together. Nice little bungalow a block back. Kitchen’s been redone, so that pulled me—and all my gear. It’s got a finished half basement that pulled Manny, and all his. We move in the second week of September.
“I’m revved.”
“You’re always revved,” Owen pointed out. “But congratulations, right?”
“Right is right.”
“That should make it easy for you to talk him and Rock Hard into playing in our ballroom for our holiday party at the manor.”
Bree leaned past Trey again. “Seriously? I thought I heard that ballroom place was full of stuff.”
“We’re working on it. And we’ll need you.”
“Goes without saying. Bash in the Ballroom. I’ll think about it. Gotta get back. Ian’ll bring you cappuccinos after they clear. Later.”
She zoomed off, and Sonya just grinned. “You know if I went for women, she’d give you serious competition, Trey.” Then leaning over, she clinked her glass to Cleo’s. “Another step in our holiday plans in place.”
Chapter Seventeen
Midnight came and went by the time they drove back to the manor.
“Question regarding Question Mark,” Sonya began. “Will they or won’t they, at some point, reach up for the average bar?”
