Chapter 13
Thirteen
Oliver
When I arrive back home with bagels, muffins, breakfast casserole and enough other assorted carbs to get us through one long, lazy day, I see that Iris has company.
An older woman in a bulky cardigan and a clerical collar stands there, talking to Iris.
This, I presume, is Aunt Patty.
I climb the stairs with heavy footsteps. Iris stands in the open doorway. Both of them turn to look at me.
“Everything okay, babe?” I ask.
Iris gives me a tentative smile and nods.
Aunt Patty’s face is neutral and pleasant.
“Aunt Patty was just asking for a tour.”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Aunt Patty adds.
I see Iris’s throat bob. “Auntie, this is my boyfriend, Oliver.”
She looks me up and down, through her bifocals. “Oliver what?”
“Harris.”
“Where’re you from and what do you do?”
“I’m from Charlotte. I work for a moving company, but I’m also a potter. I’m moving to Songbird Ridge as soon as possible.”
“You won’t find many places to rent here, Mr. Harris.”
“It’s okay. He’s going to move in with me,” Iris says, meeting my gaze.
Aunt Patty looks between the two of us. When she fixes her pinched gaze on me, I catch Iris shrugging behind her as if asking if what she suggested is okay with me.
I give her the slightest nod.
It’s all happening so fast. Crazy fast. But I know it’s the right thing to do.
“Living together, hm?”
“I know it’s not your way, Auntie, but I’m a grown woman, and…”
“Can I get that tour now?”
Aunt Patty doesn’t address our proposed living situation again.
As we pass the staircase headed toward the kitchen, Aunt Patty stops and gasps. “Where on earth did this come from?”
We both look, and see Aunt Patty staring at a framed photo with about twenty people in it, all different ages.
Iris smiles. “The attic. I found a box of old photos after MiMi died, and I decided to have some of them preserved and professionally framed for the house.”
Patty peers closely at the photo. “My goodness, this was from that family party all those years ago. Look how little you were.” She clucks her tongue.
“That was your send-off to seminary,” Iris says.
“My, my,” is all Patty says.
As Iris leads her through the house, showing her the renovations she’s done to the kitchen, the yard, the carriage house—thank god I made the bed yesterday—Patty asks basic questions but offers no judgment.
When the tour is finished, Iris asks, “Do you…want to stay and have breakfast with us? I’m pretty sure Oliver bought way too much food.”
Patty considers this. “Maybe next time I’m in town. I’ll call first. You seem…busy today.”
Back out on the porch, Patty shakes my hand and then gives Iris a very unexpected hug. Over her shoulder, Iris shoots me a shocked look.
I have no idea what’s happening, but it must be some kind of miracle.
After Aunt Patty leaves, Iris and I take our breakfast to the back patio, next to her MiMi’s rose bushes.
“I guess Auntie had a change of heart?” Iris says.
“Maybe Skylar talked some sense into her,” I offer as one theory.
She spreads cream cheese on the bagel and devours it happily. “We may never know.”
Her freshly washed hair shines in the morning sun, and her face is scrubbed clean, makeup-free. The freckles on her nose and along her neck stand out, and she looks comfortable and satisfied.
“Thank you for breakfast. And coffee. And for letting Aunt Patty give you the once-over. And…for all the other stuff.”
She looks like an angel one second, then like a devil the next second, as she reminds me of all the ways we destroyed each other last night.
Iris is beautiful, the most beautiful creature I’ve ever met. Inside and out.
“You’re welcome, Biscuit.”
She shakes her head. “Ridiculous.”
Iris can keep saying that. I hope I hear it a hundred thousand more times, on a hundred thousand more mornings just like this one.