Finn guided her forward with the gentle attentiveness of someone handling precious cargo. "Doc agreed she could finish recovering at home, provided she rests and takes her medication on schedule." His gaze met Caroline's over Ellen's head, conveying silent concern and something that might have been a request for alliance.
She nodded, understanding. "The stairs might be challenging," she said, gesturing toward the narrow staircase atthe back of the shop that led to the apartment. “Let me help you.”
"Nonsense," Ellen replied, though her gaze tracked to the steps with momentary trepidation. "I've climbed those stairs in evening gowns, snowstorms, and after one two many glasses of eggnog at the Christmas street party."
Despite her brave words, she still leaned more heavily on Finn's arm as they made their way through the shop.
Caroline followed a step behind, ready to offer additional support if needed. At the base of the stairs, Ellen paused, gathering her strength. Finn waited patiently, his hand steady beneath her elbow. Caroline noted how comfortable they were together - the ease of long association evident in their synchronized movements and the absence of unnecessary words.
"One step at a time," he encouraged quietly, shifting his grip to provide better support as Ellen began the climb.
Caroline watched, concern deepening as her aunt placed one hand on the banister, its wood worn smooth by decades of similar touches. Each step seemed to require deliberate concentration, Ellen's breath coming a bit quicker with the effort. Finn matched his pace perfectly to hers, never rushing, never hovering too much, finding that delicate balance between assistance and respect for independence.
"I recall," Ellen said between careful steps, "that you once carried Amy McCarthy's grandmother up these very stairs when her arthritis was acting up before Amy's final fitting."
Finn chuckled. "Woman weighed about ninety pounds soaking wet. And she insisted on bringing lucky oranges for everyone, which weighed more than she did."
"She threw one at you when you tried to help her," Ellen continued, pausing to catch her breath on the small landinghalfway up. "Said young men should ask permission before touching Irish grandmothers."
"Hit me right between the eyes," he confirmed. "I still have the scar."
"You do not," Ellen scoffed, resuming her climb.
Caroline followed them up the stairs, listening to their comfortable banter with a strange ache in her chest. Even though Ellen was technically her family, her aunt and Finn enjoyed a relationship that had evidently evolved organically over decades, rooted in mutual respect and genuine affection. Her own connection to Ellen felt so thin and feeble by comparison.
They reached the apartment, and Finn guided Ellen through the doorway without missing a beat, navigating the familiar space with the confidence of someone who had been there countless times before. He knew exactly where to pause so she could catch her breath, precisely how to angle through the space to give her the most support while requiring the least effort.
He guided Ellen to her favorite armchair by the window - a faded teal piece that had clearly been selected for comfort rather than style. She sank into it with a small sigh, her eyes closing briefly as she settled against the cushions.
"Tea," she said, opening her eyes again. "I've been dreaming of proper tea since that hospital dishwater in styrofoam cups.”
"Already on it," Finn replied, moving toward the sink. He filled the lighthouse-shaped teakettle and placed it on the stove, then reached unerringly for the cabinet where Ellen stored her collection of mismatched teacups.
Caroline stood awkwardly near the doorway, uncertain of her role in this well-established routine. She moved toward Ellen, crouching beside the chair to meet her at eye level.
"Can I get you anything? A blanket? Something to eat?"
Ellen's hand found hers, the skin paper-thin but her grip surprisingly firm. "Just having you here is enough, dear. Though I wouldn't say no to a scone from the tin, if there are any left."
"I'll check," Caroline said, rising and moving toward the kitchen area where Finn was arranging cups on a tray. She reached for the tin on the counter just as he did, their hands colliding briefly before she pulled back.
"Sorry," they said in unison, then exchanged awkward glances.
"You know where things are better than I do," Caroline acknowledged, stepping back to give him space.
Finn nodded, opening the tin to reveal several fruit scones. "Margaret Morgan brings these by every week," he explained as he arranged two on a small plate. His large frame should have seemed out of place in the feminine space, but instead he fit seamlessly, as if the apartment had expanded to accommodate him through long habit.
The teakettle whistled, and he removed it from the heat, pouring steaming water into a blue ceramic teapot.
"I'm not a sailboat taking on water, Finn," Ellen called from her chair, clearly reading the concern in his furrowed brow. "Stop looking like you're about to call the harbormaster for emergency assistance."
His expression relaxed into a smile. "Just making sure all systems are seaworthy before I leave you in your niece's capable hands."
"Caroline may be many wonderful things, but I doubt she knows how to make a decent cup of tea," Ellen replied with a wink in Caroline's direction. "City girls have coffee running through their veins. They think tea comes in bags with little paper tags."
"I'll have you know I make excellent tea," Caroline protested, falling into the easy banter despite herself. "Though I do use an electric kettle with temperature settings."
"Sacrilege," Ellen declared, but her eyes twinkled with amusement.
