You Are Invited...

by Holly Jacobs

  Abbey started to cry. “Well, Aunt Mattie likes me. She likes all of us. Right, Aunt Mattie?”

  Mattie picked up the little girl and hugged her. “I like you very much.” And though it stuck in her craw to say it, she added, “So does your uncle.” She glanced at Mickey and Zoe and said, “I know your mom told you that your uncle is busy at the hospital. He’s around as much as he can be.”

  Zoe snorted. “Whatever.” She started to walk out of the kitchen, then turned around and snatched a muffin. “I think I’ll eat in my room.”

  Mickey hesitated, uncertain, and Abbey’s tears threatened again. Mattie found that her own feelings about Finn were somewhere between Zoe’s anger and Abbey’s hurt. But she quashed both extremes down and smiled at the kids. “Hey, check this out. Uncle Finn got you guys your favorites.”

  She set muffins on napkins for the kids and filled two glasses with milk. “There are bananas, too.”

  She joined them at the table and finally had a sip of coffee and looked longingly at the paper. By the time she got to it, the articles wouldn’t be news any longer. They’d be history.

  “Rumor has it the whole-wheat banana blueberry’s your favorite.” Finn took one and set it on a napkin, which he passed to her.

  Mattie would love to tell the man where he could put his muffins, but she focused on the two kids, both still clearly upset at the thought their uncle didn’t love them, so she forced a smile and said, “Yum. Let’s eat.”

  “So what is the plan for today?” Finn asked. “I don’t have to leave until after dinner. I thought maybe I could take you all out to do something. I don’t know anymore what kids consider fun other than video games.”

  “We only get two hours a week for video games, and it don’t start again till tomorrow, so no. But we’re eatin’ at Aunt Mattie’s mom and dad’s,” Abbey said.

  “After church,” the up-till-now silent Mickey added. “Her brothers come. Sometimes they get Aunt Mattie to give us bonus video time so we can play with them.”

  Mattie noticed that the kids had referred to her parents as Aunt Mattie’s mom and dad. They needed something better to call them. Grandma and Grandpa might be uncomfortable for them, though they had never had any grandparents. Bridget’s parents had passed away when Zoe was still small, and Alton’s parents had never shown any more interest in the kids than he had.

  Mattie glanced at the man across the table. No, Grandma and Grandpa wouldn’t work for the kids to call her folks. She’d have to come up with something else. “Uh-huh. Uncle Rich says that Guitar Hero is almost like playing a guitar for real and kids should have music lessons.” Abbey laughed as if Rich were brilliant. “I’m gonna learn to play a real guitar sometime, right, Aunt Mattie?”

  “And I’m gonna learn to play drums, right?” Mickey asked.

  It wasn’t the idea of drums and guitars being played badly that made her want to groan, but the idea of money she didn’t have to pay for lessons that did. She could take the money from the kids’ trust, but she didn’t want to do that. She knew she’d have no way to fund their college expenses without that financial cushion.

  Of course, Finn could afford any lessons the kids wanted.

  She felt guilty, but quickly dismissed the feeling. She’d think on that later. Right now she had to deal with Finn’s invitation that wasn’t really an invite, as much as a presumption. She’d like to tell him no. Just go home now and leave the kids to her. They were barely building a new routine and it didn’t need shaking up. But if he won his lawsuit, he’d be taking the kids so they should become more familiar with him. They needed to spend time with him in order for that to happen.

  “If your uncle wants to stay and have dinner with you—” she started to offer.

  Finn interrupted. “If I know anything about your mother, Mattie, I bet I can wrangle a dinner invitation from her, no problem at all. When we were kids, your aunt Mattie’s mother always used to cook as if she were feeding an army, not only her kids, but any friends they dragged home.”

  “You knew Aunt Mattie when she was a kid?” Mickey asked, as if the thought of Mattie as a child was incomprehensible.

  “Sure I did. Your mom and Mattie were best friends. They were over here together, or at Mattie’s together. Wherever you found one, odds are you’d find the other. And they were allllways in trouble.”

  “I seem to recall your uncle Finn getting in his fair share of trouble, as well,” she tried, hoping to deflect the kids from asking Finn to tell them about her, but she should have known it was hopeless. Oh, Zoe would have been too cool at eleven to ask, and if she hadn’t gone upstairs, she might have said something scathing to stop Finn. But Mickey and Abbey didn’t need to practice disinterest. They hadn’t reached prepubescent coolness yet.

  “What’d they do, Uncle Finn?” Mickey asked.

  Abbey climbed onto the stool next to him and nodded.

  Finn thought a moment, lost somewhere in the past. His glasses seemed to amplify that faraway look in his eyes as he remembered. He smiled as he pinpointed the memory he wanted to share. “Well, there was this time when they were maybe your guys’ age that they decided they were going to run away from home.”

  “We didn’t decide,” Mattie protested. “I decided I was running away and, kids, your mom was much too good a friend to let me go on my own, so she said she’d come with me because she was mad, too. Your uncle had stolen her share of the cookies, which she’d hidden in the pantry—”

  Finn grinned and looked proud as he told the kids, “Your mom thought she could hide stuff from me, but I was her older brother and I knew all her hiding places.”

  Mickey’s chest puffed out. “I know Abbey’s places, too.”

  “So what happened to you and Mom?” Zoe asked from the doorway.

  Mattie wasn’t sure when she’d come back, but Zoe was obviously as engaged with Finn’s remembrances as her siblings.

  Knowing there was no escape, Mattie admitted, “Well, we didn’t make it any farther than Mrs. Rose’s house. We showed up, suitcases in hand, and asked if we could stay in the backyard, and she offered us a room. Your mom always thought that Mrs. Rose got the idea of opening her house as a bed-and-breakfast because of us. She showed us to one of the rooms. We didn’t know it then, but after she tucked us in, she called our moms to let them know where we were. She didn’t want them to worry, but she did want us to. When we came down the next morning, she told us that the whole town spent the night looking for us and that for some reason Finn spent his night making Bridget cookies and Ray and Rich had returned all my hostage dolls. Then she asked where we were going to go? I said California, and your mom, she started crying, but said she’d come.”

  “Mom cried?” Mickey asked, as if the idea was foreign to him.

  Mattie couldn’t help remembering holding Bridget as she cried at the thought of leaving her children. I can face this cancer and the inevitable outcome head-on, but the idea of not being here for my kids? Her tears had flowed. Knowing you’ll be here, standing in for me, helps. You were always my other half, Mattie.

  If that were true, if she and Bridget were really two halves of a whole, Mattie knew Bridget had been the better half.

  “What was next, Aunt Mattie?” Abbey asked.

  “I couldn’t stand to see your mother cry, and if my brothers hadn’t stolen my dolls, I wouldn’t have left, so we packed our suitcases, left Mrs. Rose all our money for the room and went home.”

  �
��How much did you leave her?” Zoe asked.

  Mattie smiled at the memory. “Three dollars and two cents...in change.”

  “No one let on that they’d known where we were until we were in our teens. We’d thought we’d pulled something over on them. And might I add that if you ever feel you need to run away, you have my permission to run...as far as Mrs. Rose’s. But no farther. Though, if you feel so bad that running away seems like an option, I’d rather you come talk to me...” She looked at Finn, who’d started this whole storytelling moment, and added, “Or your uncle. If you’re that upset, we’d try to help you fix whatever was bothering you.”

  “Yeah, if Mickey ate my cookies, I’d be mad. But he don’t know all my hiding places. Not my best, most secret one.” Abbey shot her brother a smug-sister look that Mattie recognized because she’d sent a similar look to her brothers more than once.

  “Bet I can find it,” Mickey hollered and took off toward the stairs.

  “There’s no time for that this morning. Go change your pants for church, Mick, or we’ll be late.” More screaming ensued, but Mattie ignored it, turned to Finn and asked, “Are you coming with us?”

  Finn smiled and nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Of course he wouldn’t.

  Mattie glanced one more time at her still-unread paper. She should probably cancel her subscription, but she wouldn’t. Having the paper delivered seemed like a bit of optimism, as if she believed things would calm down enough that she’d read again.

  She glanced at Finn, who appeared supremely pleased with himself.

  And right now she could use all the optimism she could get.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  FINN WONDERED WHY he’d invited himself along to the Keiths’ house. Ever since he’d spoken to Rich this morning he’d felt...guilty.

  That was odd because he knew his decision was for the best.

  The best for everyone.

  He made difficult decisions on a daily basis. That was part of a surgeon’s job description. He didn’t understand why he felt bad about this one.

  He’d sat by Mattie and the kids at church, then asked them to stop at JoAnn Rose’s B and B before heading to her parents’ house. The Keiths’ home was only a few blocks from where he’d grown up. He often traveled the short distance, taking Bridget to the Keiths’, or picking her up.

  Once, when his mom and dad went to a family wedding in Wisconsin, he and Bridget had stayed at the Keiths’. He’d maintained that at fifteen, he was old enough to stay at his house alone, but his mother disagreed.

  He’d been truly awful, if he recalled correctly. He thought he was way too cool to hang out with his twelve-year-old sister, her friend and her friend’s even younger brothers. He suspected he’d worn his attitude on his sleeve, but Mattie’s parents had never commented on it.

  So many memories were here in Valley Ridge, even at his sister’s best friend’s house.

  Mattie opened the door and the kids pushed past him, calling out, “Ray and Rich?” as they burst into the house and started searching for Mattie’s brothers.

  Their excitement was evident, and Finn felt unexpectedly jealous. The kids had never been that excited to see him.

  “Video games, remember?” Mattie said, as if she’d known what he was thinking.

  Before he could respond, Mattie’s mother swept into the room. Mrs. Keith hadn’t changed at all since they were kids. The fact that Mattie was adopted was well-known in town. But she was in every way a part of the Keith family, except for the fact that she didn’t look like her mom or the rest of her family. She fit here. He could see her unwind in a way he’d yet to notice anywhere else.

  “Finn Wallace, it’s good to have you back in our home,” Mrs. Keith said. “Welcome.”

  He extended a bottle of wine. “It’s from Colton’s,” he said.

  “Now, Finn, you didn’t have to bring anything.” She gestured to the sofa. “Have a seat,” Mrs. Keith suggested.

  He’d always liked the Keiths’ house. It had been built in the same era as the house he’d grown up in—sometime in the early twentieth century. In the front was a huge living area that opened into a dining room, which then connected to a kitchen separated only by a large island with bar stools lining it.

  The afternoon was a blur of noise, good food, family and friends.

  And though the Keiths tried to include Finn, he still felt out of place. When he offered to help, he was told to sit and relax, which was hard to do as he watched everyone else work together. Mattie set the table without asking or being asked. Her brothers brought out serving dishes at their mother’s direction.

  They sat down to eat, and the family talked to each other and over each other as they shared various stories from the past week. Afterward, they all cleared the table with the same synchronization that easily made him feel in the way.

  He did manage to carry a few things to the sink, but ended up relegated to the couch. The kids had disappeared again with Rich and Ray as they had indeed talked Mattie into bonus video game time.

  Rich wasn’t gone long. He came up and claimed the spot next to Finn. “I lost Guitar Hero,” he said woefully.

  “Lost it tragically,” Ray said as he joined them, grinning.

  “I think you and Mattie need to consider getting the kids real lessons,” Rich added. “They’re really good.”

  “And getting better,” Ray chimed in.

  Finn felt uncomfortable when he noticed that Rich talked as if he and Mattie were a team when it came to the kids. “I’ll make sure I ask her about it. I’m not sure how she’ll feel. If they have lessons, they’ll have to practice. Loudly and often. Mattie should have the final word on that.”

  “Do you remember when Mattie and Bridget joined the school band?” Ray asked.

  “Trumpet and the tuba,” Rich said.

  Finn shook his head. “Nothing could be heard over those practice sessions.” Even his mom had suggested that Bridget go and practice at Mattie’s on more than one occasion. “I don’t think I was ever so glad as the night Bridget announced they were quitting band and trying out for the cheerleading squad. I thought it would be better.”

  “I never imagined V. R. H. S. We are the very best,” Rich said in a high voice, “could be worse than trumpet and tuba duets, but it was.”

  Finn cracked up. “You’re right—it was.”

  “Maybe even worse,” Ray said. “Mattie’s supposed cartwheel gave me a black eye.”

  “What’s going on?” Mattie asked as she approached the men suspiciously. “You boys look way too amused.”

  “We were reminiscing,” Rich said innocently.

  Mattie shot them all a sweeping look. “About?”

  Finn looked at Rich, who looked at Ray. As if they’d timed it, they stood. “V.R.H.S. We are the very best. V.R.H.S. Better than all the rest.” Their clapping was not even close to being in unison, but Finn thought that was what made their performance so utterly perfect.

  The entire Keith clan was watching the show, including his nieces and nephew. Even Zoe was laughing. “What was that?” she asked.

  “That was our reenactment of the time your mom and Aunt Mattie were cheerleaders.”

  “You were a cheerleader?” Zoe’s tone was incredulous.

  Mattie nodded. “But it didn’t last. Your mom and I joined the marching band, but neither of us were very good, so we tried cheering and—”

  “They were even
worse,” Rich said.

  “You can say that again,” Ray teased. “Worse than worse.”

  “The girls weren’t that bad,” Mrs. Keith said staunchly, though Finn thought he saw a glint of humor in her eye.

  Obviously Ray saw it as well because he tsked his mother, brushing one forefinger against the other. “Mom, lying in front of your kids...I’m ashamed.”

  “I said that bad,” Mrs. Keith repeated. “I didn’t say they weren’t bad at all. But I’m sure there were worse things than their cheering.”

  “Like what?” Rich asked.

  “Gerry, help me,” she pleaded with her husband.

  Mr. Keith laughed, his hands resting on his potbelly. “You dug the hole, dear.”

  “Mom, come on,” Mattie encouraged. “There had to be something worse than our cheering.”

  Suddenly, Mrs. Keith’s face lit up. “Yes, sweetie, there was. That time all three of you got the chicken pox. I don’t think I would have survived having to say don’t scratch that one more time. And let’s not even start on how many oatmeal baths I gave you.”

  “Really, Mom, that’s the best you can do?” Mattie asked. “Chicken pox? The only thing worse than our cheering was chicken pox?”

  Mrs. Keith kissed Mattie’s cheek. “Sorry, dear.”

  “Aunt Mattie, you do a cheer,” Abbey begged.

  Mattie shook her head, her blond hair flying back and forth across her shoulders. “No way.”

  The kids hounded her, and then her brothers got into it, too, and Finn simply sat back and watched the scene with a wistful feeling. There had been a time when his family had gathered and laughed together.

  His family hadn’t been nearly as boisterous as Mattie’s. Looking back, he, his parents and Bridget were all basically nerds. The four of them were more apt to spend a Sunday afternoon quietly reading books than teasing each other. But they’d done it together. To be honest, the most noise that emanated from their Sunday dinners might be a rousing debate. His mother and father had loved taking opposing viewpoints on a topic and arguing it into the ground. Pretty much any current subject would do.