“I didn’t do much.” My voice was a little breathless, but I ignored that, too. “Just a call. Which was fair, since they wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.”
“No,” he said, releasing me from the hug, his eyes telling me how reluctantly he was doing it. “I mean thank you for understanding and helping me fix it. I was watching Billie talk about finding her bliss and wanting to kick your parents out, then I looked over at you.” He paused, wincing. “I thought if I told you, you’d either feel bad about what they said to her, or you’d be hurt I wanted them gone.”
He’d clearly been torn, so I gave him my best reassuring smile. “I’m glad you just came out and told me. If anyone understands about my parents and the trail of damage they can leave behind, it’s me.”
“You’ve never talked about your childhood much,” he said, softly. “Tell me something about it.”
It wasn’t that I deliberately avoided talking about it. It was just that my childhood was hardly an exciting topic of conversation. Plus, whatever had happened with my parents when I was young, it couldn’t compare to Finn losing his, so I hated to sound like I was whining about actually having parents. But Finn was asking, and I’d tell him pretty much anything he asked, so I searched back through my memory banks for something to share with him.
“From grades three through to six,” I said, hoping the memory didn’t still bother me, “my parents didn’t buy us a single school uniform. They said we were never in the same place long enough to justify it. If we moved on after four months, six months, they’d be continually buying new uniforms.”
Finn’s forehead crumpled up into a frown. “Didn’t the school insist?”
“They tried, but if they pushed too hard about it, we just moved along sooner. Usually, if the uniform was red, they’d send us to school in a red T-shirt and shorts—whatever we had that was closest. Sometimes the school would take pity on us and give Thomas and me a second hand uniform. At one school a few of my friends’ parents got together and organized full outfits for us—shorts and shirts for Thomas, dresses for me, shoes and socks, even ribbons in the school color for my hair.”
“What did your parents think?”
I shrugged. “They were grateful for the kindness, but they didn’t see the need.”
He reached out and ran a hand down my arm, then squeezed my hand. “You did, though.”
“Oh, yes,” I said on a humorless laugh. “Not only was I the new girl in class, but I was the new girl who wore something different than everyone else. Though it never lasted too long before we’d move somewhere new.”
He squeezed my hand again, offering his support all these years later. “Then it would start again.”
“Then it would start again,” I repeated.
“You’ve talked about your childhood before, but I’m starting to see why a stable career is so important to you.” His dark blue gaze was full of understanding, which meant the world to me.
“And why I love your appliances,” I pointed out.
He raised a lazy eyebrow. “My appliance?”
“Yes, your personal male appliance has a special place in my heart,” I said in an exasperated voice, but still laughed. “But I mean the household appliances. The coffeemaker and icemaker. My love for them knows no bounds.”
“Well, since we’re not the only ones home, it’s probably better that you don’t show your appreciation for my personal male appliance right now. So how about we make use of that icemaker and whip up a jug of iced tea?”
“Too early for mojitos?” I asked, hoping he’d say no.
“Yeah—” Then he blew out a long breath. “You know what? It’s the day after my birthday and it’s not been the best morning. I think it’s the perfect time for mojitos.”
“Excellent.” I jumped up. “You sit there, birthday boy, and I’ll make them.”
He looked up optimistically. “Did you realize it was my night to cook—also on the day after my birthday, and also on a day that’s not been the best?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Okay, I’ll cook dinner, but that’s the last time that line works until next year.”
“Fair enough,” he said, grinning, and I walked into the kitchen, feeling like I was walking on rainbows. There was some potential drama to come with my parents, and I didn’t know how it would pan out for Billie yet, but things were really good between Finn and me, and that was priceless.
Scarlett
A couple of hours later my parents knocked on the back door. “Scarlett, are you around?” my mother called out.
I was in the kitchen, cooking the rice for dinner. “Come on in,” I said over my shoulder.
They appeared in the archway, both fidgeting with their clothes.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, hoping this was just about Thomas’s call, not something new for Finn to freak out over.
My father cleared his throat. “We want to run something by you.”
Trying to look innocent, I turned the burner down, wiped my hand on the towel, and turned to face them. “Okay.”
“We had a call from Thomas today and he said he’d very much like to see us. Suggested we set up the tent in his backyard for a while so we could catch up properly. We haven’t seen him as much as we’d meant to since we arrived back in Sydney.”
“That sounds nice for all of you,” I said, hoping my expression had the proper mix of sadness for me and happiness for them.
“We told him we’d check with you first,” my father said.
“You did?” This was new. They normally moved where the wind took them.
My mother took my hands in hers. “We wouldn’t want to leave you in the lurch.”
My brain scrambled to understand what sort of lurch they’d be leaving me in, but came up empty. “How would you be doing that?”
“Well, you’re pretty much running a household here, you and Finn. You have two girls, a house, even a dog, and you’re so young. We’ve been trying to help around the edges, and even though Thomas was insistent, we won’t go if you need us to stay.”
I had a household? Huh.
“That’s very sweet of you,” I said, genuinely touched they’d been helping in their own way, despite them probably meaning the talk with Billie. “Thank you. But we’ll be fine here, I promise.”
My mother frowned, looking from one of my eyes to the other and back again, as if she could see through them and find out if I was telling the truth or not. Then she smiled and nodded. “I think you will be.”
My father hugged me. “But you call us anytime and we’ll come straight back. Promise?”
“Promise,” I said and hugged them both. No matter how much I’d wished my childhood had been different in some aspects, my parents had good hearts and I was lucky to have them. “Do you have time for a quick cup of tea before you go?”
They smiled at each other, then my mother said, “We’d love one.”
Chapter Fifteen
Scarlett
At five minutes to ten on Monday morning, Billie walked through the front door of Ferguson and Johns law firm in one of my best pantsuits. Her hair was smooth and glossy, the ends curved slightly forward as they sat against her cheeks. I’d said I’d try to get her an interview for my job on the reception desk—which I was still covering until we found a replacement—and Ms. Ferguson had agreed to see her on short notice.
Billie and I had chosen the pantsuit before I left, just in case I managed to get her an appointment today. It fitted her reasonably well—she was taller than me, but smaller in the chest, so the top wasn’t perfect but it gave her enough coverage.
I turned to Andrea and introduced her to Billie, then said, “I’ll be back in a few.” I’d already told her about the promotion and Billie’s interview, so she’d known I’d be in and out this morning.