13. Rune
Chapter 13
Rune
T he temps have been dropping steadily all week and by Thursday morning, my weather app tells me it’s a balmy zero degrees outside—with a ten below windchill. Thank goodness for my new pink coat, which blocks both the wind and much of the chill.
Ella and I have one more morning of prep at the community center, which means that, before the sun has fully risen, I find myself bracing against frigid winds during the short walk from my parked car to the coffee shop.
“That wind sure wakes you up!” Ella laughs, shaking the snow out of her hair as we step into the rich coffee smell and warmth of Up North Coffee.
I just yawn. Seven-thirty is far too early to be out and about when you're on vacation—and no frigid wake-me-up wind will convince me otherwise.
The full tables here tell me I won’t find much sympathy among the happy holiday shoppers of this town. They’re cheerful, laughing with each other over cups of coffee and donuts. The only person who might relate is the sullen teenager who’s glaring at his phone while his parents wordlessly dig into their bagels.
Actually, I take that back: the snippish barista behind the counter may be also be opposed to early mornings.
We find a seat near the fancy stone fireplace. I could totally fall asleep right here.
“Tell me when the caffeine hits.” Ella flips out her phone to scroll through social media. She snaps a few artistic pictures of our lattes and posts them to her stories, with a giant neon # cousintime hashtag advertising my existence.
“Does anyone care whose coffee drink you’re taking pictures of?” I lean back into the cushioned armchair, enjoying the ambient heat from the electric fireplace in the wall.
“Obviously. I’m a big deal in certain circles.”
“Okay,” I snort a laugh. I don’t doubt it. My social butterfly of a cousin was prom queen in high school.
The breakfast crowd ebbs and flows. I'm mindlessly alternating between people watching and drinking my latte, when a toddler at the table next to us spills her hot chocolate all over the table—and Ella’s bag on the floor next to it.
“Oh, shit!” Ella exclaims, then exchanges apologies with the mother over her child-inappropriate language and the state of her tote bag.
“I’ll get some napkins,” I volunteer, glad for an excuse to escape the awkwardness. As I take half a stack of napkins, I notice the cranky barista has suddenly become chipper, batting her lashes at the guy ordering. I guess all she needed was a little eye candy to make her morning. I absentmindedly lean to get a better look at his face when he turns towards me.
“Oh!” The stupid exclamation flies out of my mouth.
“Well hi, stranger.” Finn’s blue eyes crinkle at the corners and I swear it’s suddenly fifty degrees warmer in here.
“You’re back.” Duh , Rune.
“I am, yes. You, uh, collecting those?”
“What?” I blink, then look down at the ridiculous amount of napkins in my hands. “There was a hot chocolate conundrum. I need to—” I motion towards where Ella is still chatting with the young mother.
“I’ll come over in a moment.” His mouth turns up in a smile.
“Cool. Great.” Stop talking, Rune . I turn, willing myself to appear cool and detached, like I’m not totally melting at the realization that Finn is here . And that he remembered me.
Over the past few days, I’ve tried and failed to put him out of my mind. My imaginative subconscious has built him up and placed him in some sort of fairy realm along with his fancy house and 10/10 hotness. It’s jarring to see him in a normal, everyday place. Extra jarring when I’m sure I look as tired as I feel.
“Sorry, I got distracted.” I help Ella mop up the sticky remains of the hot chocolate.
“You should be,” she says good-humoredly, shaking out her bag.
I force myself not to turn around. Not to stare at him again. Should I say something to Ella? Or pretend like I didn’t encounter anyone when I got the napkins? My mind has gone blank. I don’t even know what’s normal anymore.
“Coffee hitting hard?” Ella asks, watching my fingers tap nervously against my cup.
“Maybe a little.” I stare at the flames in the fireplace with determination. I’m definitely far more interested in the fake flames than anyone else who may or may not be here in this very building.
It seems like ages before Ella looks up from her phone and gives an excited wave. “Are my eyes to be believed?” she exclaims. “Is this truly Finny-Finn? Out at a coffee shop like a mere commoner?”
“Ha ha.” Finn perches on the arm of my chair and I’m fully immersed in his pine-and-smoke smell. It takes a conscious effort not to lean and breathe him in. “So what have you two ladies been up to? Ella, I’m going to go ahead and assume you’ve been causing nothing but mischief. Did you get your car back in working order, Rune?”
“I did, thanks.”
“Rune and I have been taking the northland by storm,” Ella says. “See these boots I’m wearing? I got them for fifty cents at the Iron Ore Thrift Store. Cool, huh?” She stands up and twirls in a slow circle, modeling her brown snow boots, black leggings, and thick wool sweater.
“Yeah, they really make that hot chocolate stand out,” I can’t help teasing.
“Whatever, it didn’t—oh shit, it did.” She rubs at the brown splotch on the hem of her ivory sweater and sends an exasperated look at the door, where the mother and daughter have just exited the coffee shop. “Can you watch my drink? I’m going to see if I can get some of this off in the bathroom.”
Finn gives her a mock salute before sliding into her freshly vacated chair.
“Thrift stores, huh?”
“Amongst other things.”
“Like volunteering for the holiday bazaar?”
“How did you?—?”
He lets out a soft laugh at my surprise. “People talk. Uncle Fisher was having coffee with some of his fishing buddies and one of them wouldn’t stop bragging about recruiting ‘Ella and her nice cousin from Chicago’ to help.”
“I try my best” I say, like it wasn’t Ella who volunteered us in the first place. “How was your trip?”
His mouth twists. “It was ok. I enjoy traveling occasionally, but this one happened to be for work.”
I nod sympathetically. “Traveling isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Did I ever tell you about the last trip I went on? I ended up in a ditch.”
He chokes on his coffee. “You don’t say. How did that turn out?”
I shrug. “I got into a car with a stranger, who then tricked me into breaking into some dude’s house.”
“You did, didn’t you,” he says dryly.
“I’m still embarrassed, by the way.”
“I would be too, if I were you.” The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile that he can’t fully hold back.
I don’t have a comeback for that one, so I just smile and take another sip of my latte. I’m hyper aware of the way he’s watching me. It’s flattering, I think, but all I feel is a jumble of nerves. I’m typically the person who sits on the sidelines; I’m not sure what to do when the attention is fully on me. I cast around for something to break the silence. “Do you travel often for work?”
“More often than I’d like. I’d rather just stay home.” He looks embarrassed to admit that, but if I had a house like Finn’s, I wouldn’t want to leave it, either.
“Home is nice,” I agree.
“And what about you, Rune? Are you heading home soon or are you hanging out here in the northland for a while longer?”
“I was planning on going back to Chicago on Sunday.”
He gives a nod of acknowledgement and goes back to drinking his coffee.
Why do you want to know, is what I really want to ask. I’m a little proud of myself when I hold that question back. I may be crushing on him, but Finn is clearly here for some polite conversation, nothing more. Mentally chastising myself for being ridiculous, I open my mouth to follow up with another inconsequential comment about the temperature outside when Ella returns in her customary whirlwind. She slides into the chair with me, half-sitting on my lap.
“Ouch,” I complain.
“I can sit on Finn’s lap, if you’d rather.”
“You may not,” he says calmly.
She wrinkles her nose at him. “Rude.”
“Did you save the sweater?” I ask, changing the subject.
“It’s a little better, see? Mom said it shouldn’t stain. So, what are you up to for the holidays, Finn? Rune was supposed to head back to Chicago on Friday, but she’s caved to our pleading and decided to stay with us through the weekend.”
“Great question. I was actually wondering if you two have plans for tonight?”
My heart ratchets up a few beats.
“Tell me what’s up first, then I’ll let you know if we’re busy or not,” Ella drawls.
“There’s a formal-slash-informal gathering at the Lounge tonight with drinks and hors d’oeuvres.”
“The Lounge? That’s a classy place.” Ella sounds suitably impressed.
“Yes, well, my parents are hosting,” Finn says with a grimace. “They’ve surprised me with a visit and wanted to see as many old faces as possible. Figured I’d see if you guys and Mairi would want to come?”
“I don’t remember your parents being particularly fond of me, but by all means, put us on the guest list. Do we get to get all fancied up and everything?” Ella’s eyes are sparkling, delighted with the prospect of a fancy night out.
“There’s no dress code. In fact, I—oh, thank you.” Finn takes a bagel from the barista, who's emerged from behind the counter to personally deliver his order.
“So you were saying that your parents are in town, Finn?” She leans against the corner of a table, one lush hip out. I might look like a troll that just got dragged out of bed, but this girl's makeup is on point; her glossy brown hair is twisted into a perfect low, messy bun.
“They are, yes.”
“Does your mom still read a lot? I remember she used to come to book club here years ago.”
“Yeah, she likes her books.”
“I remember she drove that silver SUV—what kind was it? Toyota? Subaru?”
“I think it was a GMC.”
“Oh right. Do you have any fun plans while they’re up north?”
I take a sip of my latte to hide my smile. The girl must have overheard his mention of the party. I would bet the last five dollar bill in my wallet that she’s fishing for an invite. Finn is either oblivious or very good at evading the issue.
She gives a flirty little smile and leans close, but stops short when one of the other baristas gives a shout behind the counter.
“Emily! We need you!”
Finn looks up from his food and his eyes widen slightly at her nearness. “Uh, thanks for the bagel,” he offers again, like maybe that’s the reason she’s got her cleavage on display for him.
“No problem. Say hi to your parents for me.” With one last flutter of her lashes at Finn—while pointedly ignoring Ella and I—Emily the barista leaves.
Ella and I share a look.
“She was hitting on you,” Ella points out the obvious to Finn.
“She was being nice.” His cheeks are pink, which is entertaining. And also a little annoying.
“Oooookay,” Ella says with an exaggerated eye roll.
“Anyway, I’d better get back to entertain my parents.” He stands with a long stretch. “I’m glad I ran into you.”
“Hard work, huh?” Ella looks sympathetic.
“You know Sherri and Pat,” he replies dryly. “See you tonight?” The question is for both of us, but Finn is looking at me.
I nod. “As long as your parents don’t mind a stranger showing up to their party?”
“The more the merrier. I’ll see you then.” He zips up his jacket and brushes a hand lightly against my shoulder in farewell as he walks by.
Ella looks at me, bemused.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she says quickly. “You seem awake now. Ready to work?”
“I suppose so.”
The community center is a chaos of old cardboard boxes filled with dusty bags of streamers, balloons, and white plastic tablecloths.
“The garland looks nice enough, but this will make it look like a kid’s birthday party,” I mutter, holding up a sparkly red roll of streamer paper.
“Just wait,” Ella promises. “This stuff can be so much cooler than you would ever imagine.”
Sure enough, I watch as Ella turns the fragile red paper into a massive holiday bow, complete with curled ribbon ends.
“These can go onto the table ends—like so—and also up on the wall where the garland swoops up.”
“Incredible.”
Slowly, painstakingly, I try to follow along as she creates over a dozen more. Mine aren’t nearly as beautiful as hers, but by the third iteration, they’re passable enough to display.
It’s lunch time before we even take a breath, but our hard work has paid off: the room is ready with white-clad tables, glass vase centerpieces with sprigs of pine and fairy lights; the paper streamer bows adding vibrant pops of color throughout.
Ella rubs her hands proudly together, surveying the work. “It will look even better when the tables are set and the lights are low.”
I can imagine.
The volunteers seem swept up in the excitement of seeing all the hard work finally come together, and most of us barely take a lunch break, opting instead to put the boxes for decorations back in the basement, followed by a final sweep of the floors and a lighting test.
Ella shoos me out of the room for the last bit, extracting a promise that I’ll wait in the entry and won’t peek. “I want you to be surprised when you see it on Saturday,” she insists.
“As long as it’s quick,” I warn, because the entry is cold.
“Five minutes tops,” she promises.
Which is an absolute lie. I’m freezing my ass off by the time Ella is ready to leave.
“I think I’ll be the one to judge whether it is, in fact, worth it,” I grumble on the ride back to the house. My hands are still cold, despite holding them up against the heat register in the car for the past fifteen minutes.
“It will literally blow your mind.”
“I'll literally tell you if that’s true or not in two days,” I mock. “But in the meantime—what I should expect for this shindig that we’re supposed to go to tonight?”
“I can tell you it’s fancy enough that you’ll regret using the word 'shindig' to describe it. Finn’s parents are high rollers,” she explains. “Like, they only drink top shelf liquor and buy stuff from companies that donate to earth preservation charities. Good people, but—yeah, high rollers. I guarantee most of the guests will have those really ugly brand name purses and wear outfits that have been professionally tailored for them.”
“Are there a lot of people like that around here?” I wonder. “This seems like more of a rustic-outdoorsy-naturalist area.”
“Oh, they’re definitely here. Tonight they’ll be coming out of the woodwork. A lot of the rich people from the Cities like to buy second or third homes up in this area, especially those who grew up here or have some other ties to the area.”
“Makes sense. If I had money, I would definitely spend a good chunk of it trying to get out of Chicago.”
“I kind of liked Chicago when I visited.”
“I mean, it’s fine. Just because I haven’t had a spectacular time there doesn’t mean it’s a terrible place. It’s just that—” I search for the right words “—it’s never really felt like home. Just a place to stay while I look for something more permanent. And I don’t know where to find that anymore. Or even where to look.”
I rub the fog off the cold window as we pull into the driveway. Aunt Mairi’s outside chopping firewood. Despite the cold, she’s dressed in nothing but a hoodie and jeans, her jacket cast off and laying on the hood of her car. With her hair pulled back into a braid, she looks far too young to be sixty-two.
“Well, you will not find all that tonight, that’s for damn sure,” Ella says emphatically. “You will, however, get to play classy lady and eat some fancy hors d’oeuvres. For free .”
I bark out a laugh at the emphasis and meet her high-five. Free is good. Free is excellent. Especially when it comes at the invitation of a certain Finn Sigurdson.