Page 46 of Home for the Holidays

“Well, they aren’t. You’ve said it yourself.”

Iris decided to take a chance and stood up from the table. “Would you like help?” she asked as she walked over to the kitchen island, twisting her hands the entire time. She had no idea why she was nervous, but seeing Heidi in the light of day was definitely affecting her. “I’m a great sous-chef.”

“Oh?” Heidi twirled around. “I’d love the help.” She quickly instructed Iris on what to grab from the refrigerator. The more she occupied her mind, the less she would think about everything that was going on.

Actually, that was a lie. She couldn’t stop thinking at all, but she was at least hopeful that she wouldn’t have to be the center of attention if she was helping. “Is this one of your specialties?” she asked Heidi.

Heidi cracked each one of the eggs expertly with one hand into a large mixing bowl. “It is. One of the first breakfast items I learned when I was in Paris.” She started to whisk the mixture she’d created with the eggs, cream, vanilla, and spices. “Making it always reminds me of those days.”

“You must have had a special time there.”

“Oh, it was fabulous. Being there made me feel exotic, like I wasn’t from the Middle of Nowhere, USA, any longer. The people, the food, the sights, the sounds. Everything about it was an awakening for me.” The way she spoke about Paris made Iris want to jump on a plane and head there immediately. “And the food? I’ll never get over the food. Oh, and thewine.” She laughed. “Stanley and I used to drink way too much when we were there. And we were happy being what each other needed at the time.”

“Still, it sounds like you miss it.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Heidi stopped mixing the ingredients in the bowl and looked across the kitchen, a dreamy expression on her face. “I think I miss the freedom. Does that make sense?” She looked at Iris for a beat, two, three, before she shook her head and started mixing again. “Anyway.” Another moment of silence passed. “He didn’t make it home?” Her question was whisper soft. The rest of the family definitely didn’t hear it; they kept talking and laughing in the breakfast nook.

“Nope,” she answered, smiling the entire time. “Looks like you did a very good thing, my dear.”

“I should have been a matchmaker instead of a pastry chef.” Heidi chuckled. “Okay, here, you need to help with this.” She reached around her, hand on the small of Iris’s back.

When Heidi placed the bacon in front of her and motioned toward two parchment-lined baking sheets, Iris said, softly, “I love when you touch me.”

She heard Heidi breathe in deeply. “You’re so easy to touch,” she whispered, her expression softening.

A few seconds passed before Iris finally asked, “What did you want me to do?”

“Oh, yeah.” Heidi shook her head. “Place the bacon like this on the pan, and then we need to bake it.”

“Got it, boss.”

Heidi nudged her playfully before she froze. “Oh, this is my favorite song. Alexa, turn it up.” Suddenly, Frank Sinatra’s version of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”was blaring through the kitchen. Heidi knew every word and sang along with him. Her voice was beautiful.

Of course, she could sing. Everything about her was perfect.

Except the part where she was still Iris’s best friend’s mom.

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

Breakfast was a rousing success. If there was one meal Heidi excelled at, it was breakfast. Obviously—or else the café would have been a dinner joint.

After everyone cleaned up the kitchen—everyone except Zac, who still wasn’t home—they all did exactly as she had predicted and retreated to different corners of the house to take a nap. So far, this Christmas Eve was shaping up to be a real laid-back affair. Heidi was largely okay with it since she was sure, eventually, something was going to hit the fan. It was only a matter of time.

On her way to her bedroom, she stopped briefly at the bottom of the steps to Zac’s attic room, where Iris had gone. The pull to go up there and talk to her was so strong. And why not? She was allowed to talk to her son’s alleged girlfriend, right? There were no rules she was breaking by engaging in conversation. There were noruleseither way. Unwritten ones, maybe. And if they were unwritten, how was she expected to know about them?

“Well, that’s a massive rationalization,” she whispered to herself. She shook her head and continued into her bedroom. She stopped, though when she saw herself in the mirror on the wall next to her bedroom door. No makeup, hair a mess, glasses smudged, pajamas still on. She looked awful. Why would she even want to go up there and be anywhere near Iris, who looked like she belonged in a magazine? She was the epitome of New York City: thin, tall, gorgeous. And there Heidi was, fifty-three years old, probably the heaviest she’d ever been thanks to perimenopause, and tired.

No, not tired. She looked flat-outexhausted, and nothing she did seemed to help. Not coming to terms with her sexuality. Not sleeping with Sandy. Not hours of swiping on Bumble.

Except that wasn’t true, was it? Something had started to help awaken her soul, and as much as it freaked her out to admit, she knew deep down what it was. Iris had made her want to keep going, even though she shouldn’t. Iris made her want to find out more, made her want to feel alive again.

“Fuck it,” she said softly as she turned and headed up the stairs to the attic bedroom, each step creaking as she climbed. Iris was lying on the bed, glasses on, reading a book. The smile that came to her face was enough of a reason for Heidi to throw caution to the wind. “Hey,” she said.

Iris didn’t say a word as Heidi approached. Instead, she scooted over and patted the spot next to her. Heidi situated herself on the bed, on what was usually her side, even if she hadn’t regularly shared a bed in years, and stared at Iris, who had removed her glasses and turned toward her. Every fiber in Heidi’s being wanted to kiss this woman, sink deep into her, until there was no definition to where she ended and Iris began.

“If Zac comes home—”

“I don’t care what he says,” Iris said softly. “I had to take the brunt of the questions this morning. He owes me.”

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