Page 19

“Isn’t that a line from a movie?”

Audrey lightly slapped her arm. “Stop changing the subject!”

“Okay, sorry.” Iris peered around the room. A queen-sized bed draped in a delicate canopy took up most of the back wall, while an antique vanity stood primly near the window. Two eye-catching abstract paintings with squiggly lines of bright poppy red and electric blue hung at either side of the bed. The contrast between the striking art and the dainty furniture gave the room an eclectic vibe that made Iris fairly certain Audrey had been the lead decorator. She supposed that wasn’t surprising, given that as a travel photographer, Evette was out of the country for weeks—sometimes months—at a time.

“Hey!” Audrey waved a hand in front of Iris’ face to bring her attention back to the situation at hand.

“I love these pieces.” Iris gestured to the paintings. “Are they new?”

“They were at Mass MoCA on a temporary exhibition, but I asked for them back in exchange for some new ones. Iris.” She fixed her with a gentle stare. “What’s really going on?”

Iris knew that Audrey was expecting the whole truth, that she was asking her to dig into the deepest, most honest parts of herself. Not because Audrey was nosy (which she was), but because that’s what best friends did. Especially best friends who shared as deep and foundational of a bond as they did.

They had been through pretty much everything together since the moment they’d met as high school freshmen in Hartford almost half their lifetimes ago. Thirteen years of Audrey picking Iris up off the floor whenever she experienced a bout of health anxiety, or was scared because of her father, or the time the boy from her Intro to Anthropology class dropped her for someone new right after she’d confessed she loved him. And she had been there for Audrey just as often, especially after Audrey’s mother died from a long illness while they were still teenagers.

Audrey moved in with Iris and her mom when the girls were just sixteen, and she came with them when they moved an hour away to Martenshire not long after. Audrey could have lived with her dad instead, but he had a second family in Portland, and she had wanted to remain in the northeast for college. She ended up staying with Iris and her mother for two years before leaving to dorm at Smith. Then, as soon as she graduated, she rented the room above the pizza parlor where she waitressed at the time. The restaurant was barely a five-minute drive from Iris’ mother’s house.

Audrey met her future wife at that very restaurant, when Evette visited to take some photos for her book on New England family-run restaurants. The rest, as they say, was history.

A pang of guilt hit Iris squarely in the chest as their long friendship played out in her mind. Audrey deserved the truth. But how could Iris explain something she didn’t fully understand herself?

Iris plopped down on the bed, crossing her legs beneath her. “Blair’s just new to town and had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving. Why is it so weird that I invited him?”

A smile played across Audrey’s lips as she sat down facing her. “That’s not the weird part,” she said, reaching for Iris’ hand. “What’s weird is that Blair looks like he wants to flee the country, while Gabriel seems a second away from walloping him over the head.”

Iris let out a snort of laughter, but she quickly sobered. “I’m thinking of asking Blair if he wants to live with us for a little while. As long as it’s alright with Gabriel, obviously.” She glanced over to find Audrey gaping at her as though she’d lost her mind. “What? He’s living under a bridge.”

“How do you know you can trust him, though? You’ve spent, what, two hours with him? Three? I mean I get it, he’s cute, but⁠—”

“I’m not asking him to stay with us because he’s cute!” Iris interjected, stung by the accusation.

“Okay, then, why are you doing it?”

Iris frowned down at their intertwined hands. “I can’t just leave him out in the cold,” she said at last. She may not know the specifics of Blair’s predicament, but he was clearly in need of a safe place to stay. Couldn’t Audrey of all people appreciate how meaningful it was to be offered a home when you no longer had one?

Audrey nodded slowly, her eyes a little unfocused as she considered this. “But what about Gabriel?” she asked. “Has Blair offended him in some way?”

Iris shook her head. “He won’t tell me why he doesn’t like Blair. They hardly know each other.”

“Huh. Well,” Audrey said, her expression brightening, “Blair can’t be all that bad. He told me that my painting on the staircase was ‘mesmerizing’. I take that as evidence of his high moral caliber.” She squeezed Iris’ hand. “As long as you’re sure.”

Iris nodded slowly, still trying to decide that for herself.

“So, Blair.” Iris’ mother dipped her stuffing-piled fork into a pool of gravy and chewed thoughtfully before commencing her interrogation. “What is it you do for a living?”

Five heads turned in Blair’s direction. He fiddled with the napkin on his lap. Iris noticed he’d been pushing around small piles of food on his plate without actually eating much of anything. He hadn’t even touched his rosemary potatoes.

“Well, I…” For a moment, the table was silent apart from the clatter of knives and forks. Then Blair cleared his throat, sounding more confident than before. “Actually, I’m planning on opening my own apothecary.”

“Really?” Iris’ mother heaped some more mashed potatoes onto her plate before offering the bowl to Gabriel. He refused, a glint of mischief in his dark eyes as he leaned across the table toward Blair.

“I’m not sure what time you’re from, but apothecaries haven’t been in fashion for about three hundred years,” he said tauntingly.

Iris shot him an irritated look, which he ignored. A hint of red colored Blair’s throat.

“That sounds interesting,” Iris’ mom said, seeming not to have noticed the bitter shift in the air. “What exactly does⁠—”

“Oh, is it that time already?” Iris peered down at her wrist before remembering she hadn’t worn a watch. “We actually have to get going soon.”