The Mirror - Page 196

“We’re aware of that,” Laine interrupted. “Even if this business hadn’t been overheard, we know better, Sonya.”

“We know you,” Matt said. “Miranda thought Laine and I should know, he also did his best to undermine you and your work during his presentation. She found it very… what was her word for it?”

“Unbecoming,” Laine supplied. “As a result of our meeting with Brandon, and by mutual agreement, he is no longer with By Design.”

“Oh.”

Sonya’s mind went temporarily blank.

“Under normal circumstances, we’d keep this as internal company business. Matt was very persuasive otherwise, and, frankly, I really couldn’t disagree with him. However fond we are of you, Sonya—”

“And we are!”

Laine gave a light laugh. “And we are, we didn’t come to this decision for you, but for the company we’ve built, for its standards. We’re telling you these details in case Brandon attempts, in any way, to malign your personal or professional reputation.”

“Forewarned is forearmed,” Matt tossed in.

“Yes, thank you. I don’t take blame for any of it, but I’m sorry.”

“As we all are. We wish you nothing but the best, Sonya. While we’re disappointed about the account, Matt and I take some pride in your accomplishments. I’ll add Miranda also mentioned that when asked, and in contrast to Brandon, you spoke with respect and affection for By Design. We appreciate it.”

“You earned the respect and affection.”

“If you ever decide to come back to Boston, our door’s open,” Matt told her.

“Thanks. This is home now.”

When she hung up, Clover tried Billy Joel’s “A Matter of Trust.”

“I guess it was. He broke it with me, now he broke it with them. And I can’t figure out how I feel about it. Taking a break. Come on, Yoda. Let’s go for a walk.”

Chapter Twenty-six

She opted for the gardens. While the sea always enthralled, she decided she needed the peace of the gardens, the simple joy of knowing she’d played a part in adding to them.

She tested the soil on the deck pots, found it—as always—moist. What she and Cleo had planted had already begun to fill and spill.

While Yoda wandered and sniffed, she noted that irises had begun to bloom, some purple, some butter yellow, some tender peach.

And the wisteria dripped from the pergola. A dwarf tree spread an umbrella of snowy white blossoms.

She’d yet to spot a single weed, and found none now as she, like Yoda, wandered and sniffed.

When she couldn’t identify a plant—which was often, even if she’d planted it herself—she used her app. One of these days, she promised herself, she’d know them all.

But now it calmed her, settled her to just walk as the wind chimes they’d hung tinkled or gave their low, muted bong.

She decided to circle around, check Cleo’s herb bed, see if any blossoms—a daily hope—had opened on the tomatoes or peppers.

But when she called to Yoda, who’d wandered closer to the woods than she’d realized, he just kept going.

“Yoda, come back here!” She started jogging in his direction as his stubby legs picked up speed. “Yoda! Damn it, don’t go in there today. I don’t have the bear spray!”

But he ran straight in, and muttering curses, she had no choice but to follow.

Trees had leafed out, so the sun shimmered its way through them. Though she felt the charm of it all—almost like her father’s painting over the fireplace back in Boston—she wasn’t prepared for a walk in the woods.

She heard him barking now as she continued to call. Probably after a squirrel, a chipmunk, a rabbit, whatever.