Page 66 of Tattered Edges

“Well, don’t hold back, dear. Give me the highlights. You can save the good stuff for later. I’m free tonight if you want to grab a bite. Or maybe just a drink?”

She said the last part suggestively, waggling her eyebrows, eliciting another laugh from me.

“Yes to dinner. And a drink too, if you want. I have to stop by the pub anyway. But, before you get too excited, I should start with the bad news.”

“Oh. There’sbadnews?” she asked, her shoulders deflating. “Haven’t you had your fair share of that as of late?”

I was just about to answer when the front door opened, and an older woman walked in. I was quick to step out of her way, and was on the verge of welcoming her to the store, when Victoria beat me to the punch.

“Iris. Hi,” she greeted, her tone giving away her surprise.

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, her name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite figure out why. I was sure I’d never seen her before. She had a presence about her that was too poised to forget.

Her dark, brunette shoulder-length hair was styled in big, soft curls, and she wore only enough makeup to accentuate her best features.

Her hazel-blue eyes.

Her high cheekbones.

Her full lips.

She had on a beige trench coat she wore tied closed, but I noticed the crease in her navy slacks and the diamonds that draped around her neck. I was sure she was covering up a fabulous blouse or a killer cardigan, and the purse looped over her forearm was designer.

“Victoria, it’s good to see you,” she replied kindly.

Then her eyes were on me.

“And you…you must be her.”

The way she said it, almost in awe, made me anxious. Not because she made me uncomfortable, but because something told me I should know her, and I didn’t.

“My god, you’re lovely.”

I looked helplessly at Victoria, silently begging her to introduce us, but she didn’t. Worse, even, she took a step back and nodded at me, as if quietly insisting I was on my own.

Shifting my attention back on the strange woman once more, I conceded.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Not yet. My apologies for staring,” she said, a hum of amusement lacing her tone. She held out her hand for me to shake as she told me, “I’m Iris. Your aunt.”

Istaredatheras she stared at me.

Now that I knew who she was, I found myself trying to find my father in her. In spite of the fact that I kept his picture on the desk upstairs, I didn’t know his face well enough to spot any resemblance between the siblings.

The same could not be said of Iris.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, pressing a hand against her chest. “I don’t mean to be rude, but your eyes. I can’t stop looking at them. I’d know them anywhere, and I’ve missed them terribly.”

I forced a smile, suddenly feeling a bit guilty. Not that I had any reason to be—but this wasn’t the first time something about me made someone who lovedSawyer Blackstonesad.

I shrugged awkwardly, not sure how to respond.

“Um, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“No, I know. I’m so sorry about that. I meant to come earlier, but I had obligations at home, and I couldn’t get away. I’m not sure if anyone told you, but I live in Paris with my husband. We’ve got two boys. One of them still lives at home. But more on them later,” she said, waving her hand as if brushing the topic aside. “I’m thrilled to meet you. It’s been such a long time coming.”

Without thinking, I raised my eyebrows in surprise and muttered, “Wow, that’s a first.”

---