by Holly Jacobs
He paid for the muffins and coffee, and was almost at the door when Rich called to him.
“Hey, Finn.”
He turned around.
“About that fight you and Mattie had at the wake, I hope you’re leaving the kids where they are. Frankly, they’re good for her. She seems more—” he paused, obviously searching for the right word to describe his sister “—settled. And it’s not only her. I know that she’s good for them, too. They need to be here in Valley Ridge, surrounded by people who knew and loved their mom, and know and love them. Buffalo’s a great city, don’t get me wrong, but they’re part of Valley Ridge. They need to be here.”
Finn didn’t know what to say. He should probably tell Rich that he was seeking custody. When he won, the whole town would know anyway. He should just put it out there now.
He wasn’t sure why he didn’t.
He didn’t even know why he’d come into the coffee shop, so he opted to simply say, “Thanks for the muffin tips, Rich,” and hurried out the door before Mattie’s brother could offer him any more sage advice.
He headed toward Bridget’s house, a bag of muffins in one hand, his coffee in the other, and a lot on his mind.
Why hadn’t Mattie said anything about the lawsuit to her family? One word from her and they would rally round her.
Probably a lot of the rest of the town, as well.
Despite her traveling, Mattie had been back to Valley Ridge far more often than he had, and she still had a lot of family here.
So why wasn’t she mustering all the support she could? Why wasn’t she bad-mouthing him and trying to build a case for herself?
Maybe, secretly, she was hoping he’d win and give her an out?
It would ease his guilt if that were the truth, but he didn’t believe it. Oh, he didn’t think Mattie relished the thought of settling down, but he knew she’d loved his sister and would do anything for her...even if that meant trying to stay in Valley Ridge with the kids.
No matter what Mattie said, Finn knew that it was practical and sensible to have the kids with him. He could almost hear his sister’s objection. He pushed the guilty thought away and fell back on a surgeon’s confidence that he knew he was doing the right thing.
* * *
ONLY A FEW MONTHS AGO, if asked, Mattie would have said that mornings were her favorite time of the day. Sunday mornings in particular. The paper was thick and took longer than normal to read. A quiet hour or so with it and a cup of coffee was utter bliss, in her book.
She stared at the carton of eggs that sat next to today’s unread newspaper and her barely touched coffee cup and acknowledged that Sunday mornings were no longer quiet, paper-filled, coffeefests, at least not for her.
“Mickey,” Abbey shrieked. “Give it to me.”
“You gotta catch me,” Mickey screamed back.
To intervene, or not to intervene? That was the question.
“You two, shut up,” Zoe screamed with more volume than either of her younger siblings had managed.
No, Sunday mornings were not what they used to be.
Mattie knew where this was going. Abbey and Mickey allied themselves and screamed, “You can’t make us.”
“Aunt Mattie,” Zoe screeched as the doorbell rang.
Odds were it was some neighbor complaining about the noise so early on a Sunday. “Don’t make me come up there.” Those words had basically become her mantra. She opened the door and found her less than perfect morning was suddenly even less than less than perfect. “Finn.”
He held out a bag from Park Perks. “I brought a peace offering. I was going to walk around longer, but I saw the lights were on and heard...” He paused as if looking for a description.
“Welcome to Sunday. Sometimes I think Rich has the better part of the deal working the weekend mornings. He gets a quiet Sunday crowd and I get this.” As if on cue, Zoe screeched.
Mattie glanced up the stairs. “Getting everyone ready for a nine o’clock service is interesting at best, impossible at worst.” If she was lucky she’d finish her coffee by lunch, and the paper sometime before bedtime tonight.
But only if she was lucky.
“Maybe the muffins will help?” Finn asked.
“Maybe.” She stepped back and let him in. “I suppose you’d like one?”
“JoAnn offered me breakfast, but I’m the only one staying there right now, and it seemed like a waste of time to make her cook for only me, so if you don’t share, I’ll go hungry.”
He shot her a pathetic smile and batted his obscenely long eyelashes from behind his glasses at her in a way that had probably won over countless women. “Whatever” was as gracious as she could manage.
“I thought we were going to try to get along.” He came into the entry and shut the door behind him.
“When the kids are around, I’ll be all sweetness and light,” she assured him, “but I can only carry on the charade for so long without throwing up, so when we’re alone, don’t expect much.”
“Mattie, listen...”
“No, I don’t think I want to listen. I have to go out tomorrow and find a lawyer, spend money that I don’t have in order to have someone who knows what they’re doing at my side when you take me to court and try to prove what an unfit guardian I am.”
“I never said unfit, and I never would. It’s that I’m more equipped to meet the kids’ needs. It’s not personal.”
“You can tell yourself that all you like, but it is. And I don’t think discussing it will help anyway. Now that you’ve made it a legal issue, I think we’ll let our lawyers and the court decide things. I don’t want to say something that you’ll file away to use against me later out of context.” She nodded at the bag he’d set on the kitchen counter. “And while it’s lovely you brought the kids muffins, please note that I had eggs out to make their breakfast.” She pointed to the egg carton that sat next to the pristine, unread paper on the counter. “They wouldn’t have starved. I may not be as rich as Croesus, or a certain prominent Buffalo surgeon, but the kids have never, and will never go hungry while they’re in my care.”
“Come on, Mattie, that’s not what I thought. It’s not what I meant by bringing muffins. I simply thought you all might enjoy the treat.”
His protest sounded sincere, but Mattie knew he was probably taking note of the fact the kids were still hollering, though they’d obviously moved the argument into a bedroom because she could no longer make out the words.
“Sure. You’re such an upright, honorable man that you’d never think about using a missed breakfast against me—not that the kids were going to miss breakfast. I mean, you’re so honorable you’d never go against your sister’s last wishes....” She let that sentence hang there for a long, dramatic pause and then added, “Oops. You don’t give a damn what your sister or anyone else wants, right? It’s all about Dr. Finn Wallace—about what he wants. Your wants are all that matters.”
“That’s not fair.”
Before he could say anything else, Mattie spat out, “No? When your sister was dying, where were you again?”
He blanched, and Mattie grimaced. That had been a low blow. He’d come to see Bridget when he could.
Unfortunately Bridget hadn’t died in a way that accommodated Finn’s schedule. “Really, Finn, I’m sorry I... That wasn’t fair and I won’t throw that in your face again.”
He didn’t respond, and she didn’t know what else to say, so she went and called up the stairs, “Breakfast.”
She put the eggs away and pulled out orange juice, milk and butter. “Do you want something to go with your muffin?”
She wasn’t sure he was going to answer her. Her pissy comment had obviously hit home.
He did answer eventually, but without meeting her eyes. “Juice, please.”
“Fine.”
The kids thundered into the room. “Aunt Mattie, you’ve got to tell Mickey he can’t wear those jeans to church. I’ll
just die of embarrassment,” Zoe said dramatically.
Mattie looked at Mickey’s torn-up jeans that were splattered with paint and shook her head. “Try again, bud.”
“But, Aunt Mattie, they’re holey jeans. Get it? H-o-l-y? H-o-l-e-y? That’s funny.”
He’d had a test on homophones last week in school, and she couldn’t resist a small smile. “I definitely get it. And it is funny, but you’re still not wearing those pants to church. Now, eat your breakfast and then change into unholey jeans.”
Zoe looked at her uncle, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How come you’re here again?”
“I brought the muffins.” Finn nodded at the Park Perks bag.
“Yeah, but why are you here?” Zoe asked again. “I figured you’d be back in Buffalo now that Colton and Sophie’s party is over. You must want something more than to see we got muffins for breakfast.”
“What could I want?” he countered.
Mattie wanted to mutter, the kids, but she didn’t. Or maybe she’d hit closer to home saying, to win. She’d like to think that the lawsuit was about Finn believing that he was the better choice of guardian. Honestly, on paper, he was the better choice. He was more educated, had more money... Yeah, he had a lot going for him. And if the kids were his primary concern, she liked to think she’d consider his request. But she suspected Finn Wallace, captain of this, president of that, straight A student, Dr. Finn Wallace, surgeon extraordinaire wasn’t accustomed to someone telling him no, much less indicating that he wasn’t the best choice for something.
Finn had built a life around being the best.
Mattie felt as if she’d built her life around being mediocre. Still, it was her hand her friend had taken, and said, I know you’ll love the kids as fiercely as you’ve always loved me. You’d throw your life into upheaval for them...that’s what they need. They need that kind of unconditional love, more than money or things.
Maybe she was an expert at something other than moving...loving fiercely. That’s what Bridget had said. Mattie would hold on to that, and she’d fight for the kids with all the fierceness she could muster. Whatever happened she’d make sure they knew they were loved.
She looked at Zoe, staring her uncle down. “What could you want?” Zoe echoed. “Gee, I don’t know, but like I said, when Mom was sick you weren’t around much, and she’s gone now, so what are doing here? Yesterday was about your friends. What’s going on today?”
Finn seemed uncomfortable with Zoe’s cross-examination. “I have to go home tonight, but I wanted to spend time with you guys before I left.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t like us,” Zoe said.
“He likes us. Right, Uncle Finn?” Mickey asked.
Abbey started to cry. “Well, Aunt Mattie likes me. She likes all of us. Right, Aunt Mattie?”
Mattie picked up the little girl and hugged her. “I like you very much.” And though it stuck in her craw to say it, she added, “So does your uncle.” She glanced at Mickey and Zoe and said, “I know your mom told you that your uncle is busy at the hospital. He’s around as much as he can be.”
Zoe snorted. “Whatever.” She started to walk out of the kitchen, then turned around and snatched a muffin. “I think I’ll eat in my room.”
Mickey hesitated, uncertain, and Abbey’s tears threatened again. Mattie found that her own feelings about Finn were somewhere between Zoe’s anger and Abbey’s hurt. But she quashed both extremes down and smiled at the kids. “Hey, check this out. Uncle Finn got you guys your favorites.”
She set muffins on napkins for the kids and filled two glasses with milk. “There are bananas, too.”
She joined them at the table and finally had a sip of coffee and looked longingly at the paper. By the time she got to it, the articles wouldn’t be news any longer. They’d be history.
“Rumor has it the whole-wheat banana blueberry’s your favorite.” Finn took one and set it on a napkin, which he passed to her.
Mattie would love to tell the man where he could put his muffins, but she focused on the two kids, both still clearly upset at the thought their uncle didn’t love them, so she forced a smile and said, “Yum. Let’s eat.”
“So what is the plan for today?” Finn asked. “I don’t have to leave until after dinner. I thought maybe I could take you all out to do something. I don’t know anymore what kids consider fun other than video games.”
“We only get two hours a week for video games, and it don’t start again till tomorrow, so no. But we’re eatin’ at Aunt Mattie’s mom and dad’s,” Abbey said.
“After church,” the up-till-now silent Mickey added. “Her brothers come. Sometimes they get Aunt Mattie to give us bonus video time so we can play with them.”
Mattie noticed that the kids had referred to her parents as Aunt Mattie’s mom and dad. They needed something better to call them. Grandma and Grandpa might be uncomfortable for them, though they had never had any grandparents. Bridget’s parents had passed away when Zoe was still small, and Alton’s parents had never shown any more interest in the kids than he had.
Mattie glanced at the man across the table. No, Grandma and Grandpa wouldn’t work for the kids to call her folks. She’d have to come up with something else. “Uh-huh. Uncle Rich says that Guitar Hero is almost like playing a guitar for real and kids should have music lessons.” Abbey laughed as if Rich were brilliant. “I’m gonna learn to play a real guitar sometime, right, Aunt Mattie?”
“And I’m gonna learn to play drums, right?” Mickey asked.
It wasn’t the idea of drums and guitars being played badly that made her want to groan, but the idea of money she didn’t have to pay for lessons that did. She could take the money from the kids’ trust, but she didn’t want to do that. She knew she’d have no way to fund their college expenses without that financial cushion.
Of course, Finn could afford any lessons the kids wanted.
She felt guilty, but quickly dismissed the feeling. She’d think on that later. Right now she had to deal with Finn’s invitation that wasn’t really an invite, as much as a presumption. She’d like to tell him no. Just go home now and leave the kids to her. They were barely building a new routine and it didn’t need shaking up. But if he won his lawsuit, he’d be taking the kids so they should become more familiar with him. They needed to spend time with him in order for that to happen.
“If your uncle wants to stay and have dinner with you—” she started to offer.
Finn interrupted. “If I know anything about your mother, Mattie, I bet I can wrangle a dinner invitation from her, no problem at all. When we were kids, your aunt Mattie’s mother always used to cook as if she were feeding an army, not only her kids, but any friends they dragged home.”
“You knew Aunt Mattie when she was a kid?” Mickey asked, as if the thought of Mattie as a child was incomprehensible.
“Sure I did. Your mom and Mattie were best friends. They were over here together, or at Mattie’s together. Wherever you found one, odds are you’d find the other. And they were allllways in trouble.”
“I seem to recall your uncle Finn getting in his fair share of trouble, as well,” she tried, hoping to deflect the kids from asking Finn to tell them about her, but she should have known it was hopeless. Oh, Zoe would have been too cool at eleven to ask, and if she hadn’t gone upstairs, she might have said something scathing to stop Finn. But Mickey and Abbey didn’t need to practice disinterest. They hadn’t reached prepubescent coolness yet.
“What’d they do, Uncle Finn?” Mickey asked.
Abbey climbed onto the stool next to him and nodded.
Finn thought a moment, lost somewhere in the past. His glasses seemed to amplify that faraway look in his eyes as he remembered. He smiled as he pinpointed the memory he wanted to share. “Well, there was this time when they were maybe your guys’ age that they decided they were going to run away from home.”
“We didn’t decide,” Mattie proteste
d. “I decided I was running away and, kids, your mom was much too good a friend to let me go on my own, so she said she’d come with me because she was mad, too. Your uncle had stolen her share of the cookies, which she’d hidden in the pantry—”
Finn grinned and looked proud as he told the kids, “Your mom thought she could hide stuff from me, but I was her older brother and I knew all her hiding places.”
Mickey’s chest puffed out. “I know Abbey’s places, too.”
“So what happened to you and Mom?” Zoe asked from the doorway.
Mattie wasn’t sure when she’d come back, but Zoe was obviously as engaged with Finn’s remembrances as her siblings.
Knowing there was no escape, Mattie admitted, “Well, we didn’t make it any farther than Mrs. Rose’s house. We showed up, suitcases in hand, and asked if we could stay in the backyard, and she offered us a room. Your mom always thought that Mrs. Rose got the idea of opening her house as a bed-and-breakfast because of us. She showed us to one of the rooms. We didn’t know it then, but after she tucked us in, she called our moms to let them know where we were. She didn’t want them to worry, but she did want us to. When we came down the next morning, she told us that the whole town spent the night looking for us and that for some reason Finn spent his night making Bridget cookies and Ray and Rich had returned all my hostage dolls. Then she asked where we were going to go? I said California, and your mom, she started crying, but said she’d come.”
“Mom cried?” Mickey asked, as if the idea was foreign to him.
Mattie couldn’t help remembering holding Bridget as she cried at the thought of leaving her children. I can face this cancer and the inevitable outcome head-on, but the idea of not being here for my kids? Her tears had flowed. Knowing you’ll be here, standing in for me, helps. You were always my other half, Mattie.
If that were true, if she and Bridget were really two halves of a whole, Mattie knew Bridget had been the better half.
“What was next, Aunt Mattie?” Abbey asked.
“I couldn’t stand to see your mother cry, and if my brothers hadn’t stolen my dolls, I wouldn’t have left, so we packed our suitcases, left Mrs. Rose all our money for the room and went home.”