Page 151 of The Seven Rings
The connection, Sonya thought. Another set of lifelong friends. Thick and thin, as Collin had said, always.
Was it happenstance or fate, she wondered, that the two men here had come from the same bloodlines as the two men who’d played chess on a snowy night?
“Deuce will love it.”
“I wrote it all out, as much detail as I could remember. I heard them talking. Well, I heard voices and followed them, and Bon Jovi, to the den.”
And with no more questions, Trey set the drawing aside to read. When Owen did the same over his shoulder, Sonya left them to it to help Cleo. The kitchen fell quiet until Trey stacked the pages.
Clover filled the gap with Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend.”
“Yeah, they were that to each other. He spoke to you, you spoke to each other.”
“I got a chance to thank him. And a chance to see, in those few minutes, who he was. You can be told, but it’s different when you can see for yourself.”
“And he added to Dobbs and her bitch quotient,” Owen added. “It’s not enough to kill those seven women. Collin knows Johanna’s here, but he can’t see her, be with her. Same with the others.”
“The portraits, the ones you’ve found. He told you they matter in all this.”
“But not how, Trey. He just doesn’t know.”
“Painted in dreams. But your father’s not here, Sonya.”
“No. He’s—at least part of him is in the house in Boston. My mother believes that. It’s why she’ll never move.”
“But he came here,” Owen pointed out. “We saw that for ourselves.”
“Twin bond.” Cleo spoke for the first time. “It’s strong and it’s real. Maybe they came through the mirror. Maybe they painted the portraits before they died, or after. Either way, they weren’t revealed until now.”
“Because now’s the time,” Owen finished. “And time’s part of it. Could be they’ve been kept in another time. Weirder things have happened here.”
“Five down. Or rather up,” Sonya corrected. “Two to go.”
“You have more pieces here.” Trey tapped the papers. “If we believe Collin, and why wouldn’t we, the portraits are part of the solution. And you hanging them in that room, on that wall, which it turns out will hold the series of seven perfectly? Not just a matter of honor and respect.”
“That’s right. That’s good!” Nodding at Trey, Cleo continued to use a fork to more or less smash the potatoes she’d boiled. “You can believe everything happens for a reason or not, but that did. That happened for a reason.”
“But I look at them, and I don’t see the reason.”
“Two to go,” Cleo reminded her. “Then we will.”
“I’m actually feeling fairly positive. Seeing them together—your dad, Trey, and Collin—just that warm, easy friendship. Brothers, really. That’s a big positive.”
“You captured that.” Trey lifted the sketch again. “You didn’t sign it.”
“Oh, it’s just a memento.”
“It’s art. It’s a gift. Yours, and one you used to give a gift. Sign it.”
“Don’t be a dumbass,” Owen added.
“Fine, sure. You build art,” she added with a scowl at Owen. “I don’t see you signing it.”
“I put my mark on everything I build.”
“I—really? Where?”
“Different places.” He gave a typical Owen shrug. “Depends.”
