by Zoe Ann Wood
“That’s awesome,” Finn said. “How many do you have?”
Iris released a breath she’d been holding. “Only four. I don’t have time for more. With teaching and visiting Grandpa…” She shrugged, then added, “If I had a larger garden, I’d probably keep more and get someone to help me with them.”
Finn didn’t seem weirded out at all. He asked serious questions about the work that went into keeping them and was properly impressed when she sweetened their tea with her honey.
It was pitch-dark outside when he gave a tired sigh and stood. “I need to get home before I fall asleep. I promised Mom I’d help her with a brunch thing tomorrow.” He paused and cocked his head to the side. “Hey, you should come. Mom really wants to see you.”
Iris thought about it. She’d be right next door to her parents if she visited Finn’s family. But she wanted to really try with Finn. Maybe she could even face her mother and father someday. “I want to. Soon, okay? I just don’t want to barge in on your family event.”
Finn nodded. “I get it. I don’t even know who’s coming over. We’ve had so many visitors over the past weeks.”
They kissed goodbye, and she stood at the door, watching until the taillights of his car faded in the darkness. Then she poured herself another cup of tea. It was time to let her loved ones know she was home for Christmas.
Fourteen
Finn
Providence, Rhode Island, December 22
Finn gently closed the front door behind him. His parents’ house was dark, with only one light still shining in the back. He walked into the kitchen and found his dad at the counter with a thick slab of pumpkin pie and a glass of milk. Finn smiled; he couldn’t count how many times he’d joined his father for a late-night snack just like this.
But his dad seemed lost in thought tonight and only nodded when Finn greeted him. Finn didn’t prod—instead, he pulled a plate from the cupboard and cut himself a piece of the pie. Then he sat on the opposite side of the counter on a tall chair and waited for his father to mull things over.
“Your mom’s asleep,” he said finally. “She was tired tonight.”
Finn swallowed a bite of pastry. He’d learned that this meant she’d been in pain and had taken some pills to help her sleep. “What did she do?” he asked.
A ghost of a smile played on his father’s lips. “She insisted on decluttering the pantry. She had me take a box of stuff to the homeless shelter, along with a fresh batch of cookies she baked.”
Finn sighed. “Sounds like Mom.”
“You take after her in that regard,” his father said.
Finn lifted his head to study him. “How do you figure?”
In looks, Finn resembled his father—they were both tall and dark-haired, with the same straight nose and jaw. He’d only inherited his brown eyes from his mother. His father’s were blue.
“Your mail came in while you were away,” his dad told him.
Finn lifted his eyebrows. He’d had mail rerouted here from his Palo Alto apartment when it became clear that he’d be staying here for a while. “You went through my mail?”
His father snorted. “I didn’t open it. But I saw the envelopes. There’s a couple of bills, but the rest are all from charitable organizations. I’m guessing they send Christmas cards to their donors?”
“Yeah.” Finn tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Mom always went the extra mile, though. I only send them money.”
He wanted to do more. Take the time to find a charity that would benefit from direct involvement from him. After selling his company, he’d have a lot of time on his hands. He knew he would form a new startup eventually, when a smart idea struck him, but for now, he wanted to do something good.
His father watched him, smiling fondly. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. Look at you. The moment you realized your mom wasn’t well, you dropped everything and rushed here.”
Finn didn’t deserve the praise. “Sure, but had I visited often enough before that? Why did it take Mom getting sick again for me to return?”
His father’s grin widened. “Well, son, you had a broken heart to heal, didn’t you?”
Finn dropped his fork. “Uh…”
“Your mom and I were hoping you’d see reason and fight to get Iris to take you back.” His father stood and put away his plate and glass. “But you are both too stubborn for your own good.”
Finn rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that…” His cheeks flamed, and he suddenly felt like a seventeen-year-old caught kissing his first sweetheart on the front porch. “Iris and I had some time to talk…”
His dad clapped him on the back. “I knew you’d figure it out.”
That was great, because Finn was nowhere near as confident in his success. But maybe it was the parents’ job to believe their children were capable of everything.
“I’m selling the company and moving here,” he blurted out. He hadn’t intended on telling his parents until things were moving in the right direction. But suddenly, he couldn’t keep the news to himself anymore.
His dad’s eyes got suspiciously shiny. “Ah, that’s good to hear, Finn. Your mom will be so happy.”
Finn nodded. “I know. But Dad…I’ll stay here, okay? After?”
His father seemed to shrink, his broad shoulders drooping. He dropped back on the barstool and hung his head. “That’s— I’m glad.” His voice broke on the last word, and he covered his eyes with his palm.
Finn stepped around the corner and hugged his father. They stood there in the brightly lit kitchen, offering each other the comfort they so badly needed.
Later, Finn sat on the king-size bed that had replaced the narrower one he’d slept in for most of his childhood. After he’d left for college, his mother had redecorated the room. Not that he minded—teenage boys weren’t exactly known for interior decorating skills.
It was just past eight in the evening, and he stared at his phone, wondering if it was too late to call Iris. His jetlag was kicking in, and he was barely keeping his eyes open, but he wanted to hear her voice again.
He tapped her name on the screen, and a moment later, her soft voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me. I was hoping you were still up.” He settled on his bed and piled pillows behind his back.
“I’m almost asleep,” she murmured. “It’s been a long day.”
“I talked with my dad,” he said, eager to confide in her.
Iris was a good listener. When his words faltered, she posed questions that got him back on track, until he finished his story.
“So you’re really moving back to Providence?” she asked at last. “For good?”
Finn sat up straight. “Well, not necessarily to Providence. I…want to be near my parents. Somewhere close enough so that I can visit several times a week.”
“Right.”
“You don’t sound excited,” he noted. Did she think this was too much, too soon?
Iris let out a loud sigh. “I’m trying very hard not to squeak, Finn. It’s not easy to have a dignified conversation when you’re bouncing on your bed.”
He grinned, relief flooding through him. “Yeah? You’re in bed? What are you wearing?”
“Finn Thornton, stop,” Iris commanded, but he heard the laughter in her voice. “This is a serious debate.”
“Of course, sorry.” He lowered his voice. “I’m glad you’re okay with this. I’d really like to see you. Soon.” He paused, then went all in. “Maybe tomorrow?”
She was silent for a beat, then said, “Would you like to come for dinner tomorrow? My sister and her partner will be here, as well as my friend, Sam, and my grandpa.”
Finn’s heart thudded faster. “You’re sure?”
If she wanted him to meet her friend and family, this meant she was serious about him. That she was ready to bring him into her inner circle again.
“Yeah,” she breathed. “I am.”
He punched the air with his f
ist but kept his voice level. “That’s great. When should I come?”
“Oh, anytime after lunch is fine. Grandpa will be here all day, and he might take a nap, but you can come whenever.”
Finn pressed his phone closer to his ear. “I can’t wait to see you.”
A quiet exhale filtered through the phone. “Me, too. Goodnight, Finn.”
“Night, Iris.”
He couldn’t exactly whoop out loud, but he flopped on the bed and closed his eyes. This was going to be a beautiful holiday season.
The next day, he slept until his mother knocked on his door.
“Finn, darling? I think it’s time to get up.”
He groaned, rolled over to his back, and shielded his eyes from the light coming in through a gap in the curtains. “What?”
“It’s almost eleven, and we’re having guests over for lunch,” she called through the door.
Finn picked up his phone. She wasn’t lying. “Okay, I’ll be down in ten.”
He had an email from his lawyers, who apparently worked at odd hours, and one from Lena asking for news. He replied to her with a quick note to tell her that she should send him a formal offer, and told his lawyers to expect a big amount of work in January. He wouldn’t waste another day.
By the time he’d showered and dressed, his mother was halfway through setting the table. His father was busy in the kitchen, checking the temperature on a big slab of beef that was slow-roasting in the oven.
“Sorry for sleeping in,” Finn said and washed his hands in the sink. “Tell me what to do.”
His father pointed at the pile of potatoes on the counter.
“Right. Mashed or roasted?” he asked.
“Whichever way you want them,” his mother chimed in as she returned to the kitchen. “The Eastwoods don’t eat carbs anyway, so you might as well make the potatoes as you like them.”
Finn stilled. “The Eastwoods are coming for lunch?”
“Yes,” his mother replied. “We agreed on lunch because they’re having someone important for dinner—you know how Jim is.”
Finn knew exactly how Iris’ father was. “Mom…” he started to say.
But she bustled out of the kitchen again, and there was a chink of crystal glasses from the dining room. Finn bit his tongue and picked up the first potato. He’d need to talk to them both, explain just how friendly their neighbors were when they thought nobody was listening in to their conversation. But his parents had already arranged this lunch, and there was no way to cancel it without making a big, awkward mess. He’d keep quiet during the meal and escape to Iris as soon as possible.
The Eastwoods arrived with all the pomp of a royal couple. There were loud greetings, exclamations over the Christmas tree in the living room, and a toast with champagne, even though Finn’s father drank little and his mother not at all. Finn excused himself from drinking, saying he needed to drive later on, and got a scornful look from Iris’ father.
“You can have one glass, boy,” Jim Eastwood bellowed.
That was how he spoke—he bellowed every word, a jovial, friendly sort of guy. If Finn hadn’t heard him threaten Iris on the phone, he never could have imagined it.
“No, thank you,” he replied with a touch of steel to his voice.
His mother pressed his hand briefly and gave him a secret wink. Well, at least she wasn’t completely under the Eastwoods’ spell.
The conversation didn’t get any better from there on. Iris’ parents were self-absorbed people, and they clearly wanted to be in good standing with his parents. They complimented the food, the decorations, and his mother’s hairdo—Finn pressed his lips into a thin line at that one and stood to get more water for the table.
His father joined him in the kitchen. “Are you running off already? They’re your future in-laws, you know.” There was a glint of a smile lurking in his blue eyes.
Finn shook his head. “Why are you friends with them again?”
“We’ve been neighbors for almost thirty years. Life is easier if you’re friendly with your neighbors, trust me.”
With that little nugget of wisdom, Finn’s father returned to the dining room. To stall for time, Finn cut up a lime and dumped the wedges into the pitcher before refilling it with iced water.
“Finn!” Mrs. Eastwood exclaimed when he returned. “Did you and Iris have a nice time in Switzerland?” She gave him a conspiratorial look that left him feeling weirdly dirty.
“Yes,” he replied and sat. “Switzerland is a lovely country.”
“We haven’t seen Iris in so long,” her mother complained. “But we’re expecting her for brunch tomorrow.”
Finn kept his mouth shut, though he would bet his left arm that Iris wouldn’t show.
“Holidays are such a great time to see family,” Finn’s mom put in.
Finn glanced at her, and she raised her eyebrows, no doubt appalled at his lack of courtesy. But he couldn’t bring himself to be polite with these people. They’d done so much damage to Iris that it had destroyed his relationship with her. In no small way, he was also responsible for their breakup, and Iris had been deeply unhappy at the time. He would have to work hard to make sure he protected her from ever feeling like that again.
“Is Violet coming home for Christmas?” he asked.
Through Iris’ explanation, he’d sensed that the Eastwoods’ elder daughter lay at the heart of their disagreement. Iris hadn’t said exactly what had happened, but Finn had a good idea. Maybe he could press the issue a little, see how they reacted.
It turned out that Iris’ parents were exceptional liars.
“Oh no,” her mother said. “She’s much too busy.”
“She’s staying in Chicago,” her father added.
Finn was fairly sure Iris had told him that Violet lived in Portland, but he didn’t want to make a big spectacle at his parents’ table. After he returned from visiting Iris, he would definitely have that chat with them.
“It’s a shame young people have to work jobs that don’t allow them to take time off over the holidays,” his father said. “It’s not good for people to work all the time.”
That shifted the conversation to safer topics, and Finn sat back, quietly seething. He glanced at the clock. Half an hour, and he’d be able to make his escape. He wouldn’t even tell Iris he’d seen her parents, she would only get upset. This was the last time the Eastwoods lied to him or his parents. He would make sure of it.
Fifteen
Iris
Cambridge, Massachusetts, December 23
“When is your boy coming?”
Iris dropped the curtain on the kitchen window back into place and turned to her grandpa. She had most certainly not been peeking into the street for the fourth time in the last twenty minutes.
“Soon,” she replied. “Can I get you more tea?”
Her grandpa waved his hand impatiently at her and shuffled back to the couch, where Violet sat with Chavvi and Sam. Her favorite people in the world, all in one place.
Well, one person was missing.
Finn had texted her an hour ago that he was on his way, and she’d gone into overdrive and finished all the dinner prep in record time. She didn’t want to be chopping onions while he was there—she’d put on mascara after all.
“What did you get him for Christmas?” Sam called over her shoulder.
Her friend had screamed with delight when Iris had confided in her and was now probably planning on grilling poor Finn over dinner. Iris would have to run interference if Samantha got too protective of her.
“I didn’t get him anything,” she replied. “We agreed there wasn’t enough time, and besides, it’s too soon for gifts.”
He had mentioned that he’d thought of a great surprise for her, though. She hoped he wouldn’t go overboard and get her something ridiculously expensive. Iris had no idea what she would have gotten him. What did one give to a billionaire? She hadn’t told her friend and family about his wealth yet. She wanted them to have
a chance to get to know him without that added information. But she had wrapped up a pot of honey for his parents—it seemed like a friendly thing to do.
The doorbell rang.
“Ooh, show time.” Violet grinned and clapped.
She and Chavvi stood, and Chavvi supported Grandpa by the arm.
“Be cool!” Iris whispered, then turned and walked to the door, refusing to skip there.
Okay, so her new-old boyfriend was meeting her entire family. The part of it that mattered, anyway. No big deal.
In the hallway, she took a deep breath and opened the door.
Finn stood in front of her, a wide, beautiful grin on his face.
“Hey,” he said and kissed her cheek.
“Hi.” Iris bounced lightly on her toes. “Um. Everyone’s here. Just so you know.”
Finn looked past her shoulder. “Okay. Want to let me in?”
She jumped to the side. “Yeah, of course. Here, give me your coat.”
They closed the door behind them, and by the time Finn took off his shoes and she hung up his coat, Sam, Violet, Chavvi, and Grandpa were waiting at the end of the hallway like some honor guard.
Iris rattled off their names, informing Finn that Chavvi was Violet’s wife. She didn’t think he’d have a problem with that, but she still held her breath until he grinned at them both and shook their hands without missing a beat.
Sam widened her eyes at Iris and mouthed, “Hot!”
Iris glared at her and pretended not to see her winks.
She led them into the living room, desperately trying to find something to talk about.
“How was the road, Finn?” Violet asked.