His mom looked between them with a blinding smile, then noticed Chance and Rowen still lurking behind Matty’s legs. “Girls, this is your Uncle Sebastian.”
Neither girl budged. All Seb could see behind Matty’s muscular thighs—When had that happened? Back in high school he was gangly—was a swatch of yellow hair on one side and black hair, same shade as his own, he noted, on the other. Matty turned and squatted down to talk to the little girls. “What’s going on? You told me just last week you FaceTimed with your Uncle Seb and that you were looking forward to his visit.”
Chance bucked up and took a few careful steps forward, staring up at Sebastian with a cautious squint. “Hello.”
Taking a cue from Matty, he knelt and smiled at her. “Hi. I haven’t seen you in person for a while. I’m glad to see you again.” He held out his hand, and after a pause she gingerly shook it with her little plump fingers. With her curly yellow hair and full pink cheeks, she looked like his sister. As Chance darted back to Matty, Sebastian looked up at his mother and asked, “Is Steph at the shop?”
After his dad passed, his mother had poured all their savings into Chesnut Collectibles and Ceramics. That gamble had nearly bankrupted the family. But somehow, with them all pulling together and Sebastian sending almost every dime he made their way, the shop survived and now was holding its own. “Yes, but I just texted her that you arrived. She’ll be home soon.”
Staying on his knees, he looked at Rowen, who was still entrenched in the safe spot behind Matty’s left knee. She reminded him so much of his father that it ached.
“Hello, Rowen. Do you remember saying hi to me on your mommy’s phone?”
Taking one careful step sideways, and hugging herself, she fixed him with her solemn eyes and shook her head no.
Looking embarrassed, Matty offered, “She’s always shy with strangers, but give her a little while. I’m sure she’ll warm up to you in no time.”
Sebastian stood back up, thinking it was odd for Matty to be apologizing for Stephanie’s kids. Besides, he figured the girls being shy around a strange man was pretty normal little kid behavior. They wouldn’t necessarily connect a tiny image on a cell phone with a three-dimensional five-foot-eleven man.
His mom took his jacket and insisted they all follow her into the kitchen, where she’d been preparing dinner. The girls were tasked with tearing the lettuce for the salad. They were about to clamber up on the counter stools and dig in when Matty said, “Hands….” The casual one-word reminder and the way the girls scampered to the powder room to wash up bubbled over with familiarity.
Sebastian leaned against the refrigerator and watched his mom rub the chicken’s skin with piquant herbs and sweet paprika. Matty pushed up the sleeves of a well-worn heather-gray RISD hoodie, took a bag of potatoes out of the pantry and the peeler from a drawer, and set to work peeling directly over the waste pail.
The sheer domesticity of the scene made Seb furrow his brow. What was going on? When had his mother adopted his high school ex into the family? When he and Matty had started fooling around, Seb hadn’t even been out to his parents. Matty had only been introduced as a friend. Stephanie, with her big-sister radar, had figured out more was going on. Mercifully she’d only teased a little and had been kind when it ended. From the beginning, Matty had been clear that he was only interested in some casual fun. They’d been involved from the start of senior year till Christmas—and then it was over. Matty had offered continued friendship but Seb managed to avoid him with excuses of schoolwork and college prep. Then Seb had gone on to New York University, and Matty’d been accepted into the Rhode Island School of Design, and they hadn’t seen each other again until ten minutes ago.
Although clearly that didn’t hold true for the rest of Seb’s family….
Chance and Rowen returned to work on the lettuce. He approached the girls and asked if he could help but Chance lifted her chin and said, “We got it.”
Both Mom and Matty laughed and his mother suggested, “There are plenty of potatoes.”
But before Seb could say anything, Matty shot that idea down with a teasing tone. “Yeah, but only one peeler.” He and Seb’s mother exchanged another comfortable glance.
Seb leaned back again against the cool surface of the stainless refrigerator door, fighting the unfamiliar feeling of uselessness. At work people clamored for him in a consistent buzz. He wore his Bluetooth earbud so much that it felt odd right now not to be wearing it.
His mom had neatly tied the chicken’s legs, the girls had most of the lettuce torn into a large teak salad bowl, and Matty was some sort of potato ninja because the white shapes in the bowl of water near him had grown exponentially.
“Why the water?” Seb asked. His cooking skills were limited. He usually ate the catered food at the events and there were always leftovers.
“Keeps them from turning brown,” Matty answered. “Maybe you could start slicing these up? Ma likes ’em about half an inch thick.”
Ma? What the hell?
Sebastian squelched his momentary disorientation with the relief that at least the appropriate utensils were where they’d always been kept. After pulling out a cutting board and sharp knife, he sliced with a little more force than necessary.
Rowen looked up at the thwack of the knife against the board. “Knives are danger.”
“That’s right, Row. Only for grown-ups,” Matt said.
“I can use a plastic knife in school,” Chance piped up.
His mother and Matty shared another one of those private smiles and Seb feared he’d fallen into another dimension—one where he’d come home to find he and Matty were siblings. That led to an instant squick given the memory of intimacies they’d shared.
Seb pushed aside the small stack he’d made to grab another potato. “So, Chance, you’re in kindergarten now?” he asked. She nodded. “What about you, Rowen? You’re in preschool?”
Rowen glanced at her sister, her grandmother, and finally at Matty, who nodded at her with a closed-lip smile. “Yes.”
“Do you like school?”
“Yes.”
Sebastian sighed and sliced through another couple of potatoes.
“Row, why not show Uncle Seb the drawing you did of Rudolph?” At Matty’s suggestion Rowen lit up. She raised her arms to allow Matty to help her off the tall stool and skipped out of the kitchen.
“She likes to draw,” Matty told him.
“Steph sends me photos of the kids’ artwork,” he replied with a clipped voice. He goddamn knew his niece liked to draw.
The attitude must have come across because Matty ducked his chin. “I didn’t mean—”
A small voice said, “Here.” Seb looked down at the green construction paper with the reindeer drawn in crayon, sporting a red pom-pom glued where his nose would be. Rowen tugged at Seb’s jeans until he kneeled for a closer look. “They were mean to him. But then his nose glowed and he made sure Santa got presents to all the boys and girls.”
Chance took the opportunity to contribute. “The other reindeer fly with magic reindeer food but Rudolph is special. He was born that way.”
“Born that way,” Seb repeated, fighting to keep from looking up at Matty while thinking what that phrase represented in his own teenage years.
The chicken, surrounded by the potatoes and a pile of sliced carrots, was placed in the oven to roast. They were all heading back to the living room, and Seb had been trying to find a nonawkward way to ask if Matty lived with them, when a yell sounded from the hallway.
“Sebby…. Don’t make me come looking for you!”
Stephanie. He greeted his older sister in the foyer with a swooping hug. “It’s so good to see you!”
It wasn’t until he was with her again that Seb let himself admit how much he missed her. Four years apart in age, they’d been close as children.
“It was weird not seeing the red truck,” he said quietly, arm still around her.
Tucking a blond curl behind her ear, Ste
phanie tightened the hug and then let Seb go so she could find a spot for her jacket on the now crowded coatrack. “Yeah. I’m still not used to it.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you and Mom….” He crossed his arms. “But you know I’ve been saving like crazy so that the girls have a good college fund and there’ll be money for Mom when she retires.”
Stephanie’s gaze grew soft. “Hey, kid, it’s okay. We’ve been fine. Quit worrying.” As Sebastian studied the changes the years had wrought in her, he thought his sister was more beautiful than ever, with her golden hair and milky complexion, along with the Chesnut cheekbones they had in common. She was nearly the same height as Seb and had a bearing that would have been as comfortable in a palace as it was in this artsy small town.
She wore a familiar knit JoosTricot gray and red striped turtleneck over skinny black jeans that brought a smile to his face. Over the years, he’d been able to gift her couture samples that Lacey passed to him, saying My curves aren’t going to squeeze into this. Someone might as well enjoy it. Given Steph’s appreciation for fine clothes and shoes, he’d loved being able to give her that little bit of luxury, a far cry from when even diapers were a stretch.
She glanced toward the interior of the house. “Is Matt here?”
Seb nodded and then blurted out what had been eating at him. “Are you two…? I mean… he said he was gay when we… back in high school. But…?”
The bark of a laugh she gave could have been heard back in New York City. “No. Absolutely not. He still plays for your team.” She twirled her hair, a habit so familiar it tightened Seb’s heart. “We’re best friends.”
“Does he live here?”
She’d been easing into the main living space but upon hearing his question, Stephanie stopped in her tracks. “No. He lives in his parents’ old house. They moved to Florida and he took it over. He just visits. A lot.” Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”
An all-grown-up Matthew Starr practically living with them for the duration of this visit? No. No problem at all.
Chapter Two
Matthew
DINNER at the Chesnut household was a comfortable mess with the occasional meltdown. Usually it was one of the kids, though sometimes Stephanie would lose it. Steph was a strong, opinionated woman—qualities that were part of the reason why Matt valued her friendship—and she had an equally iron-willed mother. Their different roles in the shop played to their individual strengths. But when they clashed, Matt would distract the girls and let the women hash it out.
This evening, food was pushed around plates as the adults engaged in stilted spurts of polite conversation. Chance and Rowen remained virtually silent. Until Steph decided enough was enough.
“Eff this,” she blurted. “Why is everyone acting like Sebby’s some sort of royal visitor?”
“Stephie, not in front of the girls.”
Stephanie looked sheepish. “It was just the first letter.” She swore all the time but tried to control it in front of her daughters. Matt found it amusing. He avoided cursing, a leftover from his upbringing because his parents were big on decorum. Even in art school he’d unconsciously monitored his language. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a sly grin and found himself distracted by the sexy stubble on Baz’s cheeks.
“It’s okay,” Baz said. “I’ve been away awhile and it does feel weird. I’m sorry about that.” He stared at his plate, looking self-conscious, idly pushing a lone potato slice around.
Rowen shifted in her seat. “Uncle Seb is a prince? Do you live in a castle?”
Matt fought the crazy urge to agree with her—the man did look regal, with his upright posture, impeccable table manners, and imperial stare. It was odd how different Steph and Baz looked, one so fair and the other dark. Both siblings had similar eye color, although Steph’s were bluer and warmer. Unless it was the dark hair that made Baz’s eyes seem cooler.
Turning to Chance, Baz placed his silverware on the table. Was there an etiquette rule about not talking while waving around cutlery? If so, then Matt would have failed—his table manners had never quite met his mother’s standards. “No, honey, I live in New York City. Remember the photos you’ve seen?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I know phones shouldn’t be out during meals but just this time….” Since nobody in the Chesnut house had that particular rule, Matt didn’t know to whom Baz was apologizing as he scrolled to some photos, then rose and bent over Rowen and Chance to show them. The girls stared intently.
“Mommy, can we go there?” Chance asked. Of course, there was nowhere that Chance learned about that she didn’t want to visit.
“Yes. I’m sure we can one day. The thing is that your uncle travels a lot for work. So even though he lives there, he’s not always home. We’d have to find time to go when he’s there.”
Wait for it, Matt thought.
Sure enough, Chance responded with, “Why?”
Steph glanced at her mother. “Well, it would be rude to visit when he’s not there.”
“Is that why you said that Uncle Seb needed to get his ass here?”
Matt choked back a laugh. Cheryl covered her mouth with her hand, Steph turned red, and poor Baz looked like he wanted to fall into a hole. Ah, I love these kids. Taking pity on the rest of the table, he spoke up. “Chance, that’s not a polite word. And I’m sure your Uncle Seb wanted to visit but he couldn’t. Sometimes grownups can’t always do what they want to do.”
“Why?”
Baz answered, “I had to work.”
“Do you do art like Uncle Matt?” Chance asked.
“No, Uncle Seb has a different job. He sort of… plans parties,” Cheryl said.
“Would you plan my next birthday party, Uncle Seb? I’m going to be six.”
Matt stifled his laugh at Baz’s deer-in-the-headlights look, but Steph saved him. “The parties he plans are all grown-up parties. You wouldn’t like one of those.”
“They aren’t exactly parties,” Baz said. “More like big meetings.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “Lots of grown-ups talking.”
Chance looked disappointed, but before she could say something more, Baz turned to Matt. “I remember you were always into art.”
“Oh, Matthew is our best-selling artist at the shop.” Cheryl jumped in before Matt could say anything. “Especially at this time of year. His ceramic figurines fly off the shelves and the website. He’s become collectible. And for those who can’t afford to spend for an original, he puts out a select-numbered series from a single mold and folks go nuts.”
Matt found it disconcerting to be on the receiving end of Baz’s assessing gaze. “I look forward to seeing your work.”
“At the shop tomorrow,” Stephanie promised, but then she snapped her fingers and rose. “Wait. I’m being stupid. We have—wait a sec.”
She came back to the table with two of Matt’s ceramic holiday figurines—a young reindeer in a glade and a decorated Christmas tree with a miniature train set surrounding its base. He’d spent days on that one—it was intricate work. He’d gifted it to Cheryl for letting him be part of her family, not adding that it was for being the mother he wished he’d had.
“Oh wow,” Baz uttered. His brows rose, and he gave each piece a lengthy perusal. Baz’s finger followed the microthin wire that held a small bird above the young reindeer’s nose. It was that whimsy that made these nonreproducible sculptures special. The numbered versions were also detailed, but this one-of-a-kind had a floating component fixed by wire. The three-inch gleaming emerald tree was dotted with red and gold and blue ‘lights,’ and a delicate silver star graced its top. The toy train surrounding it was detailed down to its miniature windows, with an old-fashioned black engine and a red caboose. It had taxed Matt’s patience to place the brown ties across the curving tracks.
“Matty—these are amazing!”
A blush heated Matt’s face at the unexpected attention.
“I�
��ve never seen anything like it.” Baz’s eyes locked with his. They stayed like that for a long moment until Rowen knocked over her milk and Baz nabbed the figurines off the table and handed them to his mother to return to safety.
Overturned glasses were nothing new, but Rowen started to cry. Matt put a hand on her shoulder as Steph wiped up the mess. “Hey… remember the rule? We don’t need to cry over spilt water—”
“Or milk,” she answered by rote.
Picking Rowen up, Matt settled her against his chest. She’d already stopped crying but snuggled into his shoulder for comfort as Matt patted her back. Across the table, Baz was observing him with his arms crossed. Matt raised his eyebrow in question but Baz turned away as if caught doing something he shouldn’t.
Sebastian
SEB was not surprised to discover that the girls wouldn’t go to bed until Matty read them two stories each. His mother had asked if they’d like Uncle Seb to read to them also, but they’d both ducked their heads and run to Matty. Fighting a sulk, Seb followed them upstairs but then turned toward his old bedroom to unpack.
All that remained of his childhood space was his old double bed. The room had been transformed into an arts and crafts room for the girls. A low, long table with a roll of paper pulled across the entire surface sat opposite the bed, where his desk had once been. Cups with crayons and markers were clipped to the table’s sides, while pint-size benches were tucked beneath. The wall itself was a veritable art gallery.
His mother entered and sat next to him on the bed, running her fingers across the comforter—the same blue plaid one he’d left behind ten years ago. He leaned to rest his head against her shoulder as her hand came up to pet his hair. “Thank you for coming home,” she said softly.
It was hard to blame his blurry vision on the fireplace ashes up here. “I should have come sooner.”
“You’re busy. Always traveling somewhere. From when you were a little boy you always seemed to be searching for something.”
Santa's Last Gift Page 2
