34. Iris
34
IRIS
There’s a knock at the door to my office, and I look up from the computer to see Gloria studying me like she’s been there for a while.
“Do you have a minute?”
“Yes, of course,” I say and gesture her forward. Jodi is at her weekly nail appointment, so it’s just me in the office. “I need to head out in a minute to pick up my yard signs from the printer. I know I’m a little behind, but I’m getting things going this week.” I offer what I hope is a confident smile. “Between the signs and a bigger slate of community events, not to mention the excitement around Fun Fest, I think I can win this election. Do you want to walk to the printer with me?”
She shakes her head and closes the door. “We need to talk in private.”
“Oh.” I rack my brain, trying to figure out what would make her look so serious. “Are you endorsing Joey?” I ask with a nervous laugh.
“It’s not me,” she says as she sits across from me.
My heart drops to my toes. The question was a joke, or so I thought.
But Gloria continues, “I got a call from the national committee chair this morning. Governor Wilhelm’s plans for the next primary are ramping up.” Her voice is professional but carries an edge of something I don’t recognize—pity, maybe? “There are concerns about you becoming… About your continued presence on the political scene.”
Shame and regret come rushing back, the need to curl in on myself overwhelming. But I square my shoulders and meet Gloria’s steady gaze.
I force myself to process her message. “Skylark, Colorado, is hardly a national stage, and no one outside of his immediate circle knows about us. They told me to leave Minnesota and lay low for a while. I’ve done that.”
“You’re the mayor,” she reminds me. “It’s a public role.”
“I was appointed.”
She inclines her head as if conceding that minor detail. “Six months ago, but now you’re gearing up for a campaign. You also asked for my support with a career path that will take you to D.C. if things work out.”
The truth slams into me like a wave. “They didn’t mean lay low for a while.” My voice is flat. “This will follow me forever.”
Gloria’s jaw tightens. “You know how the game works. History is never forgotten. It’s not personal.”
“It feels pretty damn personal.” I raise a hand to my throat because it’s hard to breathe as my whole body struggles under the weight of her message. “If I’d known he was married?—”
Gloria slaps a hand on the desk. “You knew .”
“Separated,” I say weakly. “I thought they were legally separated.”
“He lied and misled you, and now you’re paying the price for believing him. It might be time for a fresh start. I reached out to a friend who runs a think tank in Seattle?—”
I choke out a laugh. “I’ve never even been to Seattle.”
She doesn’t flinch even though I practically spit out the words. “It’s green and lovely—the mountains are different than Colorado but just as beautiful. Winters can get a little rough, but get yourself one of those SAD lights and you’ll be good to go.”
“What if I don’t want to go ? I’ve done everything right. Skylark is thriving, and people like me now.” My voice cracks, and I draw in a breath. “I’m the fun mayor.”
She shakes her head. “Fun doesn’t win races.”
Ironic considering I thought being an uptight stick-in-the-mud was my problem. “Are you trying to kick me out of the race and the town?”
“I’m trying to give you options,” Gloria says. “I like you, Iris. I admire your dedication and resilience. You have a lot to offer a community, but it’s not going to be in politics.”
“I can work in another capacity and?—”
“What’s changed, Iris?” Gloria leans back, hands folded in her lap. “Because a few weeks ago, you made it clear that Skylark was just a stepping stone to something bigger. Is staying in town really what you want?”
Of course it is, I want to tell her. But with everything on the line, I can’t shake the doubt creeping in.
At the start of my campaign for fun—Sloane’s bucket list challenge—I was no more ready to commit to this town for the long run than I’m ready to put my heart on the line for a chance at a future with Jake. Is he part of my future or just another reminder of who I’ve always been? I know that if I want to be treated differently, I have to be different. A new version of myself. I just don’t know who she is quite yet.
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice trembling. “I don’t know what I want. But I appreciate hearing this from you.”
“It’s not fair, Iris.” She shakes her head. “You had to live down your mom’s reputation. Now you’re paying a hefty price for the mistake with Robert Wilhelm, while the cheater gets off easy. It’s not fair,” she repeats.
“It’s not,” I agree. “But he has to live with himself—and his wife.”
“Although I’m not a fan of revenge,” she says evenly, “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted it.”
“Did the party ask you to gauge whether or not I’m going to come out of the woodwork down the road to try to ruin him?”
She sighs. “Maybe, but this is me telling you as a friend that you need to do what’s best for you.”
“Hurting Robert won’t help me.”
“Then figure out what you want. Not what the committee, Governor Wilhelm, or even this town expects from you.” She leans across the desk and pats my hand. “Decide for yourself, Iris.”
She’s right. It’s past time for me to decide. Yes, I’ve made mistakes, but I’m no longer hiding.
“I’ll see you later at class,” she says as she stands.
“Sure, see you later.”
After she leaves, I turn and stare out the window at the view of the town square I’ve come to love, waiting for the tears to come. Ever since I popped my crying cherry, I get emotional at everything. But my eyes remain stubbornly dry.
Maybe that’s a good sign. I’m returning to being numb—my method of choice to keep the world at bay. My mother’s chaos taught me early that feelings are just weapons waiting to be used against me. Emotional distance helped me stay in control even when I was barely holding on.
But I’m damn sick of this white-knuckled grasp. I’m sick of everything at this point.
I scribble a note to Jodi explaining I’m sick and need to take the rest of the day off. The nice thing about old-school communication is I don’t have to worry about her text reply or follow-up questions.
I pick up my order from the sign shop, forcing a genuine smile when the owner tells me he appreciates my commitment to small business. “You’ve got my vote,” the man says, holding up his palm for a high five. I give it to him, then place the signs in the back of my car, knowing they’ll never see the light of day.
Once home, I quickly change into sweatpants and a sweatshirt. If my brother weren’t staying with me, I’d take my bra off too, but out of respect for him, I leave it on.
Keeping up the “I’m sick” ruse, I text Char and Jake that I won’t be able to make the class this afternoon. Jake immediately responds that he can bring chicken soup or whatever I need, and as tempting as it is—because I need a hug—I decline.
Instead, I curl up on the sofa to finish the final chapters of Absolute Determination , wishing I had half the guts of Ellie Spaulding. She wouldn’t let anyone push her around or run her out of the life she wanted. Maybe it would be easier if I truly knew I wanted the dreams I’m chasing—an election, a career in politics.
All I know is that this place feels like home. Jake feels like home. And I desperately want a home.
Nick walks through the front door two hours later. One look at me on the couch and he shakes his head. “Jake came into the cafe this afternoon and told me you’re sick. He said I need to check your vitals and then get back to him.”
“How’s this for a vital?” I ask as I flip him the bird.
“Right.” He gives me a thumbs up. “I’ll let him know you’re good to go. Do you need me to open a bottle of wine?”
I place the book on the coffee table. “Nick, I cleared out every ounce of alcohol in my house the morning after you got here.”
He nods. “I noticed that and appreciate it, but I figured you kept a secret stash. Most people do.”
“Secrets have gotten me nowhere, so no stash.” I straighten a little bit. “But I have a carton of vanilla ice cream, frozen strawberries, and a great blender.”
“Milkshakes coming up.”
“I’ll text Jake and let him know I’m doing okay.”
“The guy’s seriously whipped.”
The smile I offer him wobbles at the corners. “What can I tell you? I’m irresistible.”
“Runs in the family.” He disappears toward the kitchen, and I pick up my phone, which is set to Do Not Disturb.
Me: Thanks for having Nick check on me. I’m fine. Just a bad headache.
Jake: Want me to come over and massage your temples?
Me: Appreciate the offer, but I’m going to bed early.
Jake: Want company?
Me: Not tonight, but thank you for?—
I don’t know how to finish that sentence. Caring about me sounds stupid. Your concern is too formal.
What I’d like to say is Thank you for making me feel loved , but talk about how to lose a guy in one text.
Me: For everything.
He responds with a kissy face emoji, and I smile. Jake is a big fan of emojis, which would probably surprise most people who know him. It surprises me every time one pings on my screen.
“What’s going on?” Nick demands as he hands me a frothy milkshake.
I close my eyes to savor the creamy perfection. “This tastes like heaven and nirvana had a food baby. How do you do it?”
“It’s three ingredients,” he says with a chuckle. “Not exactly complicated.”
“That’s my point. Three ingredients. When I make a milkshake, it tastes good. This one is an ideal summer night at the local drive-in movie or county fair. It’s happiness in a glass.”
Nick shakes his head but I can tell my effusive praise makes him happy. “I do add a few tears of the unicorn I have chained in your basement to everything.”
“You wouldn’t even have to chain the unicorn,” I tell him. “Any creature would happily do your bidding just to be part of this moment.”
“You give me too much credit, Iris.”
“That’s funny, because I sort of thought I wasn’t giving you enough.”
He pats my leg. “Come on, Sis, tell big brother your troubles.”
“I can’t. You’ll hate me. Or think I’m an awful person.”
“You’re joking, right?”
He slurps his own milkshake, then turns to face me fully on the couch. “Iris, you gave up your dream house savings account to pay my debt one last time. If that’s not rock bottom, I don’t know what is. If you think there’s anything that will make me turn on you, you are sadly mistaken.”
I stare at the melting ice cream in my glass, my voice barely above a whisper. "I had an affair with a married man."
Nick continues to polish off the milkshake, vacuuming the bottom of the glass with the straw to get every last bit of goodness.
“Are you going to finish that?” he asks, reaching for mine.
“Yes,” I tell him, pulling it away. “Are you going to react to what I just told you? I’m just like Mom.”
He barks out a laugh. “That’s a stretch.”
“Nick, he was married .”
“I heard you. Is that why you dated him?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you aren’t like Mom. She craved the drama and chaos her actions caused as much as the romance it resulted in. You aren’t the same. And I’m guessing there’s more to the story than you’re telling me.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to make excuses for my behavior. I hurt innocent people.”
“I’m guessing you were also hurt.”
“ I don’t matter.”
“You’re wrong. You do matter. You matter to me. To your friends. You matter to the people of this community, where you’ve somehow made a home despite the destruction left in mine and Mom’s wake.”
He reaches out and taps a finger on the top of my head. “Use that big brain of yours. Do you think I would have gotten the job at the diner if it weren’t for you?”
“I didn’t pull any strings.”
“You don’t have to pull strings. People here like you. They respect you.”
“They wouldn’t if they knew what I’d done. I’m not going to take a chance on anyone finding out. I’m dropping out of the mayor’s race and taking a job in Seattle.”
I take another sip and wait for the cold concoction to help with my overheated cheeks.
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“Iris, I almost killed innocent people by being stupid and reckless, and I’m back here. Facing my past. Are you going to let one mistake steal your life?”
“It’s not only about me.”
“Maybe it should be.”
“If I don’t do this, innocent people could suffer.”
“The man’s wife and kids?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I don’t want to go into details because if it ever comes to light, I don’t want you to have to lie.”
“Iris, I’ll lie for you. I’ll kick ass for you. Let me help.”
“Not with this. You have to trust me.”
“Okay, you drop out of the race. So what? You don’t have to leave Skylark. You love this town. But...hell, I’m not even sure you want to be elected.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You want to do good. You want to help families—kids who need it like we did. But the handshaking and community cheerleading? It’s not exactly your wheelhouse.”
“I’m fun ,” I insist, wrinkling my nose. “I’ve rehabbed my image. Ask anyone.”
“I’m not debating your fun factor. Half the reason I came here is because you’re my favorite person in the whole damn world. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. You’re great just the way you are.”
“I’m a porcupine,” I tell him.
He rolls his eyes. “To me, it’s more feral cat energy. People love asshole cats. Remember the cat with resting bitch face? That asshole pussy made tons of money.”
I laugh at his crass joke. “I’m not Grumpy Cat, Nick.”
“You’re my grumpy sister, and I love you. If leaving Skylark is what you want, fine. I’ll support you. But if you think you can be happy in this town, I want that for you too.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, what?” he counters.
“Thanks for your support.”
“Admit you love it here.”
“I love it here,” I mutter.
“You want to stay.”
“Maybe.” I don’t know what I want yet, but I’m damn sure going to figure it out. Maybe staying in Skylark really could be an option?
“I’m the best brother you could ever imagine.”
I smile and hand him the last of my milkshake. “The very best. Your animal is a capybara.”
“The giant rodents from South America?” He tilts his head, a slight smile curving his lips. “I can accept that. Now, do you want to talk about the fact that you’re in love with Jake Byrne?”
“Ye—” I punch him in the arm even as my heart lurches. “You aren’t getting me to admit that.”
“You don’t need to. For once, the emotions are written all over your face.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Between the mess I’ve made with Jake and the election fiasco, my situation here feels hopeless, but is it? Is anything truly hopeless if I have hope? I consider the possibilities—following Jake when he inevitably leaves, or begging him to stay. Neither feels right, but the thought of letting him walk away feels even worse.
“Stop saying that.”
“Can we stop talking altogether and watch some mindless TV?” I ask weakly. I need to stop thinking for a while. My brain and heart are too mixed up to figure out how my life unraveled so quickly and what I can do to fix it.
He flips through the channels, finally landing on The Office .
“You and Jake are like Pam and Jim.”
I snort. “Not in any way.”
“I totally see it.” He gives me a sideways glance. “The slow burn and banter.”
“You’re stupid,” I mutter, settling deeper into the couch.
Nick nudges me with his elbow. “All that undeniable chemistry.”
I snort like he’s an idiot, but hope blooms deep in my soul. I’d like to believe I might get a Pam and Jim-worthy happily-ever-after. And just maybe—once the dust settles—I can have it with Jake.