“You and Dad okay?”
She squeezed my cheek. Her fingers smelled like rum balls and gingerbread. “We’re always okay. He may be difficult to live with at times, but goodness knows, I’m no peach. There comes a time in your life when it’s easier to take the good with the bad, Finlay. Anything else is too much work. No man is perfect. The best we can do is settle for a good one. Now help me get all this out to the table before the brussels get cold.”
While my mother finished dressing the ham platter in greens, I scooped up the serving bowls and carried them to the dining room. Her Christmas linens were crisply pressed and snowy white, and even though I knew my children would inevitably spill juice cups and smear their sticky fingers all over them before the end of the night, my mother would find a way to get them spotless in time for New Year’s.
I set the serving bowls gingerly in the center of the table, moving a few shimmering crystal goblets and glistening pieces of silverware to make room for the rest of the feast that was coming. In the next room, the TV clicked off, and Georgia and Vero wrangled the children. The doorbell rang.
“You expecting someone?” I asked my mother.
“Your sister invited a guest for dinner.”
“Seriously?” I couldn’t remember the last time Georgia had invited someone over to meet our parents. I hurried to the door, eager to beat my sister there and greet her mystery guest. As the door swung open, my tongue stuck in my throat.
Nick stood in the threshold, his left arm in a sling under his open coat and his right leaning on a crutch. He looked amazing in polished dress shoes, crisp khaki slacks, and a cashmere sweater that hugged him in all the right places. His face was freshly shaven, his hair recently cut.
A smile pinched the corners of his eyes. “It’s good to see you, Finn. You look great.”
“You, too.” I shook my head, struggling to unscramble my thoughts. “I mean, you look a lot better than the last time I saw you. In the hospital. What are you doing here?”
“Your sister invited me. Can I come in?” One side of his mouth kicked up, teasing out a dimple. “Or, if you want, we can hang here a little longer.” I followed his upward glance to a cluster of mistletoe my mother must have hung. My cheeks warmed as I stepped back from the door.
“Looking good, Detective!” Vero sprang out of nowhere, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“Merry Christmas, Vero. Do you mind?” He held out a gift bag, balancing precariously on his crutch. “I’m still getting the knack of this thing.”
“Presents? For me? You shouldn’t have!” Vero took the bag from him, shamelessly peeking inside.
“They’re for Delia and Zach,” he corrected her as she whisked them to the table. “And the wine is for your mom,” he said to me as I helped him maneuver over the threshold.
“You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to.” His crutch snagged the doorframe.
I reached up to steady him, catching him by the chest. “Careful, don’t fall.”
“Trying not to.” His voice was a low rumble through the soft warm wool of his sweater, and a spark of mischief lit in his eyes. “Just dinner,” he reminded me.
“Right.” We did an awkward dance as he balanced on one leg and I moved around him to help him out of his coat. Keenly aware of the rattle of his crutch behind me, I led the way to the table.
“Nick!” Delia jumped down from her seat. My sister intercepted her, scooping her up before she could crash into Nick’s leg.
“Easy there, kiddo. He’s still got some healing to do, and we’d all like to see this guy back on the job.”
Nick ruffled her hair. “Brought you a present.” He jerked his chin toward the bag. “There’s a little something for your brother, too.”
My mother wiped her hands as she came out of the kitchen. She stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth falling open. “Nicholas! What happened to you? Georgia didn’t tell us you were hurt!”
“It’s nothing,” he assured her as she fussed over him. “Just a couple of scratches. I’ll be back on my feet in a few weeks. There’s something in the bag for you, too, Mrs. McDonnell.”
“Please, call me Susan,” she insisted. I was just grateful she hadn’t asked him to call her Mom.
I took my sister forcefully by the elbow, hauling Georgia out of the room. The kitchen doors swung closed behind us. I set the wine down too hard as I rounded on her. “What are you doing?”