Give Me a Christmas

by Zoe Ann Wood

  He’d never liked Iris’ mother much. Their families had been neighbors ever since Finn could remember, and he and Iris’ older sister, Violet, went to middle school together. Yet it was Iris who had captured his attention—and kept it throughout the years.

  But there had been a big fight in her family around the time Violet left for college, and her parents now pretended Violet didn’t exist. It was all very strange, though he never could get Iris to tell him about it.

  “Well, yes,” his mother admitted. “In a way. Jasmine didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was worried sick. You have to admit it’s strange she flew off on her own to a foreign country.”

  Finn resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “She’s a grown woman. And it’s not like she’s visiting the Gobi Desert all alone, Mom. Switzerland is one of the safest countries in the world.”

  She frowned at him. “I didn’t want to have to do this.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Do what?”

  Stretching to the side, she opened the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out a folder filled with papers. “This is a new drug I read about. The research institute is situated in Lausanne, Switzerland, and they’re very optimistic about the drug’s effects.”

  Finn opened his mouth, then closed it again. His mother was looking at him, her gaze completely calm.

  “Really?” he said. “You just found out about a new drug that could help you at the same time when Iris Eastwood is in Switzerland? You want to tell me this is some big coincidence?”

  His mother sighed. “Hmm. No. I’ve known about it for months.”

  “And you didn’t tell me about it? Why?”

  It hurt that she’d hidden this information from him, that he could have helped her obtain it.

  She shrugged and leaned back against the pillows, a weary sigh escaping her. “It’s not a real solution to my problem, Finn. It’s a drug that might help me…be more comfortable, toward the end. And I didn’t want to send you running halfway around the globe for something like this when I’d much rather have you near me.” She patted his hand and continued, “But you’re trapped here, darling. You’re staying with your parents, taking care of both of us, but you’re not living your life. How long do you expect to put your life on hold for me?”

  Finn swallowed. “For as long as it takes. I don’t have to be at work, Mom. I don’t have to make more money. My company’s in good hands, and I’ve been thinking about selling it anyway…” He even had a buyer in mind. Lena Yune, tech prodigy and billionaire. She’d take care of his people.

  “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about.” His mother frowned at him, her graying eyebrows turning down. “You’re making business decisions based on your emotions. I won’t have that. You need a break from this house, and you’re going to get it.”

  “By flying to Switzerland on some fool’s errand?” He got up, unable to sit still any longer. “Why Iris? Why now?”

  “Because I want to see you happy before I die,” she snapped.

  Finn stopped pacing and looked at her. His mother’s eyes were suspiciously bright, and she blinked fast for a moment as she composed herself.

  “Mom,” he started, but she held her hand up.

  “I’m not going to watch you waste any more time,” she said. “I’ve had almost forty years with your father, Finn. Forty! I just want you to have the same.”

  He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I get that. But Iris? She and I didn’t work out, remember?”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “That was because you were young and stupid, darling.”

  “Is that ‘you’ supposed to be plural or singular?” he asked.

  His mother merely pursed her lips.

  Finn groaned. “Come on, anything else. I’ll travel to India for sacred Ganges River water if you want me to. Why can’t you be a normal mother and leave the decision of who I date to me?”

  It was humiliating that his mother thought he needed her matchmaking help at the age of thirty-five. True, he hadn’t exactly dated a lot in the recent years, but that was more due to the fact he’d been working nonstop. He’d become more careful of who he let into his life after a failed relationship or two.

  “You’re not getting out of this one,” his mother told him calmly.

  He moved to the door, eager to escape this horrible conversation. Maybe she would be more reasonable in the morning.

  “You’d better get packed,” she called after him. “I checked the flights—you should make a reservation for the one that leaves at ten tomorrow morning!”

  Groaning, Finn descended the stairs and found his father in the kitchen. He was sitting on a bar stool and making his way through a thick slab of pecan pie. The kitchen was dark, illuminated only with the light coming from the large Christmas tree standing in the living room. Finn had helped his parents decorate it the previous week, before the hordes descended and his mother made plans to ruin his life.

  “Did you know about this?” Finn demanded.

  His father shrugged. He was a man of few words, a carpenter by trade, and Finn could always count on him for some solid real-life advice. But now, he kept quiet and forked up another bite of pie, washing it down with milk.

  “Do you realize how crazy this plan is?” Finn asked. “If I show up at Iris’ hotel, she’ll think I’m stalking her!”

  His father chewed for a moment. “If it was any other woman your mother asked you to see, would you have done it?”

  Finn paused, then rubbed his face with his palm. “Yes.” He hated when his father was perceptive like that. “You know I would have.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  Finn sighed. “Iris is the problem. I’m not sure she’ll be happy to see me.”

  That was an understatement. He was absolutely certain she would be very unhappy when he appeared on her doorstep.

  “It sounds like you should talk to her and figure things out, hmm?”

  His father was completely calm, but Finn sensed he was baiting him. Why? Why were his parents conspiring to turn his life upside down?

  “Look, son, your mother thinks Jasmine Eastwood is genuinely concerned about her daughter. Iris hasn’t been to see them in ages. And now she’s traveling to Europe all on her own?” His father shrugged. “It’s enough to worry any mother. You have the means and the excuse to check up on her. It’ll take you two days, three, tops, and it’ll make your mother happy. How about it?”

  Finn nodded. How could he refuse? “Fine. But I’ll make no promises. If Iris doesn’t want to come home for Christmas, there’s no way I’ll be able to convince her.”

  “All we’re asking you to do is see if she’s okay.”

  His father sounded so reasonable when he said that. But the fact was that there was nothing reasonable about this plan at all.

  Still, his heart beat faster at the thought of seeing Iris again. He’d find her, check that she was alive and well, and ask politely whether she wanted to come home. If she agreed, great—his mother and neighbor would be happy. And if she refused him, he’d return with the knowledge that he’d done all he could to convince her.

  He’d be in and out of Switzerland in forty-eight hours, with plenty of time to help his mother prepare for Christmas.

  Three

  Iris

  Zermatt, Switzerland, December 20

  “What do you mean, you can’t fix the boiler tonight?”

  Iris clutched the edge of the reception table in the big lodge and stared at the receptionist in horror. The man was at least five years younger than her and sported the reverse-raccoon eye mask typical of people who spent a lot of their time on the slopes wearing ski goggles. He was also trying his very best to explain—in good but accented English—why she would not be getting any hot water in her cabin tonight.

  Cabin was a generous term for her current place of residence. Shack would be more appropriate, since the living room that doubled as the dining area was barely wide enough to h
old the couch and a coffee table, and the bathroom was so small she had to hold her knees to her chest to go to the toilet. The shower stall only had a curtain, and yesterday’s shower had caused water to flood all over the tiled floor. Today’s shower had her shrieking in surprise as ice-cold water sprayed in her face.

  “I’m sorry, madam, but the…er, plumber is busy today. He will come tomorrow. Maybe.” The young skier seemed embarrassed, so he likely knew exactly how uncomfortable she would be. “I can give you complimentary tickets to the spa. It is on the ground floor of this lodge, right down that corridor.” He pointed to the left, where there was a sign bearing a lotus flower.

  “Okay, so I can shower there. But what about central heating? What am I supposed to do about that? It’s freezing.”

  The app on her phone told her it was currently fifteen degrees outside, or minus ten degrees Celsius, as the locals had informed her. It was five o’clock in the afternoon, and dusk had fallen on the town of Zermatt. Iris assumed it would only get colder in the night.

  Her cabin was built of wood, and while Iris was sure other similar, newer structures were perfectly insulated against the cold, hers certainly wasn’t.

  She’d known, deep inside, that the offer she and Samantha had booked was too good to be true. The photo in the ad had been of the main lodge, and Iris’ heart had skipped happily when she’d descended from the bus that had brought her here. Zermatt was a perfect Alpine paradise, complete with stunning views of the mountains, four feet of snow, and Christmas lights adorning every shop window and balcony.

  Then the receptionist at the lodge had explained that her cabin was ‘remote’ and pointed her toward a horrible, drafty structure that stood behind some fir trees that looked like they’d come straight from Narnia.

  If the shack had one redeeming quality, it was that it was set in a very picturesque place. This was what Iris had focused on yesterday when she’d called Samantha to confirm that she’d made it to Switzerland alive.

  She wasn’t so sure she’d survive this night, though.

  “There’s a wood-burning stove in the cabin,” the youngster behind the reception desk told her. “I can send someone to show you how to light it. There is enough wood stacked on the porch to last you for several days, and by then the plumber should be able to fix your boiler.”

  Shocked, Iris mouthed stove and several days. Oh, what had she gotten herself into?

  “I want a refund,” she said. She would find another place to sleep tonight.

  The receptionist’s cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry, but we can’t do that. The offer you bought clearly said it was nonrefundable.” He glanced around the lobby, leaned forward, and lowered his voice. “Look, for what it’s worth, I’m really, really sorry. But the boss is a…” He shook his head. “He’s not a good man. He doesn’t care about customers; he says there are always more tourists who fall for the offer.”

  “But that’s terrible! Why doesn’t anyone report him?” Iris muttered, aware a group of English skiers was moving through the lobby behind her.

  “Technically, none of it is illegal.” The receptionist shrugged. “It’s all there in the fine print.”

  Iris rolled her eyes. “Of course it is.” She tapped her fingers on the counter. “So my only option is to use the stove, try not to poison myself with carbon monoxide, and shower at the spa for however many days it takes you to summon this mythical plumber?”

  The guy scratched his neck. “Well, I can throw in a couple of free breakfast vouchers if that’ll make you feel better.”

  Iris sighed. “Fine. But have someone bring over extra blankets as well. I don’t want to die of hypothermia.”

  Four hours later, she was wrapped up in two blankets, wearing her leggings, pajama pants, pullover, and parka. She clutched a mug of tea she’d just made and settled in to watch Persuasion on her laptop. After a day on the slopes, where she’d borrowed a pair of skis, ski boots, poles, and a helmet, she’d spent a couple of hours working on her grant proposal at a café downtown, but now she was pleasantly tired and didn’t even have the energy to read. It was snowing outside, a real mountain snowfall with thick, silent flakes that covered the access road in a fresh white blanket. She was lucky she could walk to the ski slope from her cabin; everyone who owned a vehicle would have to dig it out of the snow the following morning.

  She sighed appreciatively when Captain Wentworth appeared on the screen, and she put her fingers to her ear to press the earbud in, not wanting to miss a single word he uttered in that delectable English accent…

  From the corner of her eye, she saw movement. Iris turned to the window. A man stood there, looking in, his nose pressed to the glass.

  Irish shrieked, surging to her feet. Tea spilled from her mug, but she didn’t care—she was all alone here in the woods, and nobody would hear her scream. Her knees got tangled up in the cord of her earbuds, and the buds pulled painfully from her ears. She knocked over her laptop, which clattered to the floor, but she was already sprinting toward the kitchen, tripping over blankets.

  She needed to arm herself. If the man broke the window—or the door, it wasn’t exactly sturdy—she would be ready. She was smart and resourceful and she would not become the victim of some Swiss hillbilly mass murderer who preyed on innocent tourists.

  Casting her gaze around the kitchenette, she grabbed the frying pan, but it was a light, cheap variety, nothing like her trusty cast-iron skillet at home.

  Hurry, hurry. A voice inside her head told her she had seconds before the man attacked her. She could hit him with a chair. Throw it at him to unbalance him. Then she’d hit him over the head with the pan. And spray kitchen cleaner in his face, yes.

  The man knocked on the door. It rattled on its hinges.

  Iris whimpered but clutched the pan with one hand and the kitchen cleaner with the other. She was as ready as she could be.

  “Go away,” she screamed. “Or I’m calling the police.”

  “Iris,” a voice came from the other side. “Iris, it’s okay. It’s Finn. Finn Thornton.”

  Finn? What was he doing here?

  And how had he learned where she was?

  She dropped the pan. It bounced from the linoleum and landed on her toes. “Ow,” she cried. “Ow, crap.”

  “Are you okay? Come on, open the door, let me in.”

  Iris closed her eyes and counted to ten.

  It didn’t help. Her heart still thundered against her ribs, adrenaline rushing through her veins.

  “Iris?” Finn knocked again. “Please, let me in. It’s freezing out here.”

  In truth, it was freezing inside as well, and her breath fogged in front of her face as she gasped.

  With shaking hands, Iris pulled her phone from her pocket. It was nine o’clock here, so it would be early afternoon in Cambridge.

  Did you tell my parents where I am? she texted Samantha.

  The reply came instantly. I’m so sorry. Her friend added a crying emoji.

  Iris cursed and tucked the phone back into her parka. She had no idea how her parents had managed to pry the information out of Sam, but the damage was done. Her past was standing at the door, demanding entrance. She had no choice but to let him in.

  Four

  Finn

  Zermatt, Switzerland, December 20

  The door creaked open, and Finn caught a glimpse of Iris’ face through the crack.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  Finn was so cold, he considered shouldering his way inside just to get out of the frigid wind, but he clenched his teeth, stood back, and tried to appear as if he belonged on the dilapidated porch of this ramshackle cabin in Switzerland.

  “Hi, Iris, how are you?” He tried to smile his best smile, even though being in her presence was as painful as he’d imagined it would be.

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m great. Some lunatic just appeared at my window and scared me to death. I spilled tea all over myself, and my laptop is probably broken. Why are you
here?”

  Finn winced. “Look, I’m sorry. I tried knocking, but you didn’t hear me.” He gestured at his ears. “Probably had something to do with you watching…”

  Her chin lifted up an inch. “Persuasion.”

  She stared at him as though challenging him to comment on her choice. Finn wasn’t stupid enough to do that: when they’d been together, she’d made him watch the movie with her, so he remembered how much it meant to her.

  “So…can I come in?”

  Iris eyed him for a moment longer, then shivered. She was wearing an awful lot of clothes—why was she this cold? Finally, she stepped to the side and opened the door wider. He entered and got his first good look of the cabin.

  “Wow, this is…um.” He took in the tiny kitchen, the old couch, the dusty antlers on the wall. “Rustic?”

  Behind him, Iris closed the door, cutting off the cold wind that blew into the room. She snorted. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

  He turned to her, eyebrows raised. He wanted to ask so many questions: Why was she here alone? Why come all the way to Switzerland to stay in a cabin that was clearly well below any decent standard of living? But she stood several paces away from him, hugging herself, a frown twisting her delicate brows.

  Right. He was the one who was intruding, and he would have to do his best to explain his presence. He opened his mouth to speak, but Iris beat him to it.

  “What are you doing in Zermatt, Finn?”

  That question wasn’t too complicated. “Would you believe I was in the neighborhood?”

  Her scowl deepened; she clearly wasn’t impressed with his joke.

  Finn sighed and added, “I was in Lausanne on business when I saw your photos on Instagram.” It was a half-truth—he did still follow her on Instagram, even though she’d never followed him back. There was nothing to see on his profile anyway: he followed a grand total of twenty-four people, including her, his cousins, and Bill Gates, and never posted photos of his own. It was a good way of keeping up with her life, even though she’d been quiet online recently.