Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Finley
My apartment is quiet when I walk in, and there’s no sign of Maybelle, not that I’m surprised.
She likes to hang out in my bedroom, sitting on the pillows at the top of the bed.
I’m the first to admit it looks like a Christmas store has exploded in the one-bedroom unit, and while it usually makes me feel closer to my mother, tonight it’s like a burning indictment that I’ve let her down.
My seven-foot artificial tree is in the corner, missing a good portion of its needles.
As scrawny as it looks, it’s lovingly decorated with all the ornaments my mother and I collected over the years.
There’s a vintage Nativity underneath that we purchased at a garage sale when I was ten, and I’m happy to see that Maybelle hasn’t absconded with one of the figures and hidden it somewhere.
I love a good scavenger hunt, but I’m not in the mood tonight.
My usual routine when I come home is to grab a quick snack, but I’m home hours earlier than usual and I ate a prepacked sandwich after I left Beans to Go.
Besides, I’m too anxious to eat. Instead, I fill a juice glass from my box wine in the fridge and take a sip before preparing Maybelle’s dinner.
Her special food costs more than I’d like to spend, but after her bout with bladder stones a few months ago, I do what I need to do for my cranky baby.
She hears the kibble as it clicks into her bowl and slinks around the open doorway to the bedroom, giving me the side-eye like she doesn’t trust my motives.
“Sorry,” I say in a sweet tone. “I know it’s not your favorite, but it’s better than having bladder stones.”
I never thought it was possible for a cat to look down their nose at someone from one foot off the floor, but Maybelle somehow makes it work. I set her bowl down next to her water fountain and she slowly pads over, like she’s sure it’s a trap, then sniffs and looks up at me.
“I know. Sorry.”
She glares at me a second longer then finally eats.
I take my glass of wine to the sofa and give myself a moment to decompress.
This whole thing is crazy. I can’t believe I’ve actually agreed to go on a trip with a guy I’m not even dating, let alone stay with his family.
I open the photos on my phone again, and scan through the images. His family looks nice, but then again, I doubt he’d send me photos that would make them look like a family of Hannibal Lectors. I open my Instagram app and pull up Alex’s account.
Okay, I’m a stalker. I looked him up after he left the coffee shop, but I’m not stupid enough to follow him.
He doesn’t post much, and there are only two photos of his family.
One is an image of him and his two brothers and sister from when they were little.
In fact, infant Mallory is sitting on the oldest brother’s lap.
The three brothers are wearing the same blue-button up, short-sleeved shirts, and jeans.
Mallory is wearing a pink dress with lots of ruffles.
She has a big pink headband around her bald head.
The brothers are all smiling, but the youngest—Grant—has an ornery look in his eyes.
Tyler looks like he’s taking his responsibility of holding his baby sister seriously.
And Alex is grinning, like he’s happy to be there, sandwiched between his brothers.
The next photo is of him and his mother and was posted on Mother’s Day a year and a half ago.
They’re standing outside, and he’s got his arm around her.
He looks happy. She looks like she’s in her early fifties, but barely.
She has shorter, blond hair, and she’s also smiling.
It’s her eyes that draw me in—they’re full of happiness, like she’s ecstatic to be hugging her son.
I feel a pinch in my heart, and now I’m missing my own mother even more than before.
I pull up photos I have of her before she got sick, stopping on a selfie of the two of us.
We’re sitting on a blanket at an outdoor concert.
She was so vibrant and full of life. It’s still hard to believe that less than six months after we snapped that photo, she was diagnosed with cancer.
Tears burn my eyes, and I wonder if this trip is a good idea.
Sure, I’ll get to live the dream my mother and I had for years, but I’ll be doing it without her.
And if Alex’s family is as nice as they look, will being around them over Christmas and a week before the anniversary of her death make it even harder?
Be smart, Finley. This is so impractical.
But it’s the impracticality that’s convincing me to do it.
My mother’s request has haunted me for the past six years.
I’ve found so many reasons to ignore it, but it’s time to say yes.
It’s time to take a chance and do something crazy.
And once it’s done, I can go back to steady, practical Finley O’Brien.
Maybelle jumps onto the sofa beside me, and rubs herself against my leg, her sign that she’s granting me permission to pet her. As I run my hand over her soft fur, I realize the impractical Finley has already screwed up. Who’s going to take care of Maybelle?
I send a text to Mirna and Barb in our group chat.
I can’t go. It’s too late to find someone to take care of Maybelle.
Mirna’s name appears with three dots, letting me know she’s typing. The dots appear and disappear for nearly thirty seconds, and I wonder if she’s writing an essay, but then her text appears.
We’ll take care of her.
I frown, then send:
I thought you were going to Chattanooga to spend the week with your daughter’s family for Christmas
My phone rings and I’m not surprised to see Mirna’s name. She hates texting.
“Why aren’t you going to your daughter’s?” I ask as soon as I answer.
“I’m going, but just for the day.” She makes a sound that sounds like a grunt, but Mirna’s too ladylike to do such a thing. “She’s inviting Todd’s family too.” Her disgust is palpable.
Mirna’s daughter is in her late fifties, and she got remarried a couple of years ago. While Mirna likes her daughter’s new husband well enough, it’s a different matter when it comes to his mother. “You really should try to get along with Vera.”
“Why shouldn’t she try to get along with me?”
She has a point.
“In any case,” she says in a prim and proper tone that makes it clear we’re done discussing Vera, “I’m going up on Christmas Eve and coming back the night of Christmas Day.
I can feed her in the morning before I go, and we can get Burt to feed her that night and the next morning.
You know he’s not doing anything for Christmas. ”
It’s not a bad plan.
When I don’t argue, she says triumphantly, “So there. Maybelle is settled and I’ll even hang out in your apartment and watch those silly dating shows you love to watch, just to make her feel like you’re there.”
I know Mirna secretly loves watching those dating shows, so it isn’t exactly a hardship.
“Don’t spoil anything for me,” I tease. “I’m two weeks behind.”
“As if,” she says stiffly.
We’re silent for a moment before I ask, “Are you sure?”
“Watching those dating shows will be a hardship, but I’ll muster through,” she says, sounding resigned.
I nearly laugh. “I’m talking about feeding Maybelle. And cleaning her litter box. I’ll be gone for nearly two weeks.”
“Your baby will be taken very well care of,” she says, her tone softening. “I’ll even ask my granddaughters to teach me how to text photos so you can see her.”
Tears sting my eyes again, this time for a happy reason. “Why are you going out of your way to help me? I know you don’t want me to go, even if you gave your blessing.”
She’s silent for a moment. “You’re a good girl, Finley, and life has been too hard for you.
You need to have fun. Barb’s right—you need an adventure.
” She pauses again. “I had a chance to go off with a young man in my youth, but I was too scared. I played it safe, and I’ve always regretted it.
” She’s quieter when she says, “I’ve always wondered what my life would have been like if I’d just taken the chance. ”
I gasp in shock. I know she and her husband had celebrated their fifty-third wedding anniversary weeks before he passed away from a stroke.
She moved here not long after, mere months before I moved in.
When she speaks of him, it’s always with fondness, which is why I’m surprised there was someone else before him. “Oh, Mirna…”
“In any case,” she says, sounding sterner. “I think you should go, but if you run into any trouble at all, you call me, and I’ll book you the first flight home. The last thing I want you to worry about is whether you can afford it or not.”
“Mirna,” I protest. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“I’m sorry, Finley, but that’s the only way I’ll agree to watch Maybelle.”
A lump fills my throat. Part of me wishes I was spending Christmas with Mirna and Barb, but they have their own families—their real families.
Still, they’re the closest thing to family I have, and it’s nice to know they feel the same way.
Besides, I don’t anticipate needing to come home early—if I did, I wouldn’t be going. “Okay. Deal.”
“Good,” she says, and I can practically hear her dusting her hands. “Now that that’s settled, you should work out the details of your trip so Burt can get started on your contract after Barb finishes paying your retainer.”
I blush and want to bleach my brain at the same time, but she has a point. We hang up and after I take a breath to settle my nerves, I send Alex a text.