Chapter Twenty-Six

After closing up, Sonya and Cleo head to the studio amid Dobbs’s petty hauntings—bells, slams, and thuds. Cleo unveils a new painting: the seven brides in radiant bridal whites, physically linked, rings gleaming, with the manor behind them. The image moves Sonya to tears and symbolizes unity and strength.

The reveal draws an escalated assault: a massive red-eyed bird screams and hammers the turret windows, leaving black-red smears. Fog creeps in the hall, but Cleo’s protections and stones hold as the creature turns to smoke. Owen, Trey, and the dogs rush in; they confirm the glass is intact and admire Cleo’s painting, which they deem a defiant rallying point.

The next morning, Sonya helps Cleo load and place paintings at Bay Arts. Sonya’s marketing draws interest; she advises on flow, grouping works into narrative sequences. Back at the manor, Owen cooks pasta while they discuss museum progress—architect and engineer engaged, public process ahead—and Sonya’s likely role in signage and the website. Ghostly banging resurfaces, but the women dress for the opening undeterred.

At the gallery, early arrivals and sales set the tone. Community members stream in: Trey’s family, Ace and Paula, Corrine and Deuce, and Bree. Works sell briskly—seascapes, historic Poole images, florals, and a calming bay watercolor for Bree. Maddy introduces Hector and confirms interest in a new website. By night’s end, thirteen pieces are sold (with a series counted as one, effectively fifteen).

Elated, the group leaves into the cool night. Banter about who bought what and the crush of attendees underscores growing village support. Cleo, challenged, proves her exuberance with sidewalk cartwheels, closing a day that began with menace and ended in communal victory.