Iris Read online

  “I know. Me too.” He tucked his finger under her chin and nudged it upward. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  She nodded and his lips descended on hers. A soft sweet touch that filled her heart to the brim. Life didn’t get any better.

  ***

  “It is so wonderful having little children around again.” Fiona Hart hung a blue and red handprint painting on the fridge with a couple of magnets.

  “I have to admit,” Lucy wiped her hands on her apron, “when their grandmother showed up at church with little Gavin in a suit and tie, and Emily in an outfit worthy of the Easter Parade on Fifth Avenue, I did not have high hopes for the church egg hunt.”

  Cindy snuck a spitzbuben from the nearby plate. “Didn’t Emily just look adorable in the matching shoes and purse? I did so love patent leather as a kid.”

  “Can’t say the same for your sisters.” Lucy pulled the bacon wrapped asparagus from the oven. “Your mother finally gave up on Sunday dress shoes.”

  Cindy took a deep whiff. “Another thing I absolutely love is that asparagus. It’s practically addicting.”

  Her grams chuckled. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard anyone say that about asparagus before.”

  “Probably because no one makes it taste quite as good as Lucy.”

  “That’s because it’s made with love.” The longtime housekeeper slid the trays onto the counter and reached for another. That woman had been loving them with food for decades. Cindy couldn’t imagine not having Lucy around, despite her crazy antics.

  “Well the hunt went much better than I expected.” Iris came through the kitchen door with Eric at her side. “I thought for sure the Queen was going to say something about getting their Easter clothes dirty or shoes scuffed, but nope. Not a peep. The woman was all smiles and polite.”

  Eric curled Iris into his side and smiled down at her. “You do realize one of these days you’re going to slip and call her the Queen to her face?”

  “Nah.” Iris flashed a playful smile. “I have years of experience suppressing my true feelings for stuffed shirts.”

  “Speaking of which,” Grams looked up from ripping lettuce, “where are Mr. and Mrs. Hughes and the children? Supper is almost ready.”

  “They stayed a little longer so the kids could have ice cream with some of their friends.” Eric showed no signs of letting Iris go. “Apparently grandparents are not subject to the no spoiling dinner rule.”

  “That’s absolutely correct.” Grams nodded.

  Eric leaned against the wall and drew Iris more closely against him.

  For the last few weeks Cindy had watched the bond between the two tighten. Because neither had full-time nine to five jobs, and Eric and the kids were still renting the Sycamore cabin, these two were the couple that Cindy saw more often than her sister or cousins. If she were honest with herself, as much as she loved her life, and she did, she couldn’t help but feel a teeny tiny bit of an emptiness deep down when she looked at the sparkle in her cousin’s eyes. Sometimes a warm cuddly kitten or tail-wagging puppy just didn’t cut it.

  “Okay,” Heather came in from the dining room, “table’s all set.”

  “And the drinks are on the buffet.” Jake came to stand behind his fiancée, letting his hands rest on her shoulders.

  Cindy didn’t miss the gentle way his fingers kneaded into what were no doubt very tired muscles, or the grateful smile directed up at him. The silent communication made her both want to smile with shared joy and pout at the same time. Since pouting hadn’t worked since she was two, she snatched another of her sister’s cookies.

  Clacking of doggy toenails clicked against the hardwood floors, announcing the General’s arrival. “I can smell that roast all the way on the porch. I am officially starved.”

  “Good.” Lucy slid the large pan out of the double oven. “As soon as Emily and Gavin arrive with their grandparents, you can carve.”

  Almost as if cued by the universe, the two children came scrambling in. As had been their ritual now since their uncle decided to make Lawford his new home base and the Hart House the heart of it, the two children split directions. Emily went first to Grams then the General, while Gavin did the opposite before the two barreled into their uncle. To any onlooker it appeared as if the main objective was to see if they could one day knock him over.

  The huge grin that always took over Eric’s face said he didn’t mind one blessed bit.

  “Easy,” the British grandmother said from the doorway before her husband cleared his throat, shook his head, and then smiled at his wife’s acquiescing sigh. Cindy supposed some day the poor woman would get used to her grandchildren’s lack of British sensibilities. Maybe.

  “Uncle Eric,” Emily practically bounced in place, “Mr. McIntyre said that maybe next weekend we could take a ride on the firetruck.”

  Eric’s gaze searched out Lily’s soon to be husband.

  “We’ve got a truck going in for annual servicing so it won’t be on duty, so to speak,” Cole confirmed.

  “Do I get to go too?” Lily sidled up beside him. Balancing a plate of some tasty confection in one hand, she inched up on her tippy-toes and kissed Cole smack on the lips.

  “Anytime,” the man practically purred.

  “I don’t know about the rest of you,” Cindy hopped off her stool, “but it’s getting awfully warm in here.”

  At least Iris had the decency to blush before giving Eric a gentle peck on the cheek and following him and the others to the dining room. Pretty soon the double tables with extra chairs wouldn’t be enough for the family if it continued to grow. Especially with the increasing tendency for all to descend on the lake, if not once a month, at least on key holidays.

  “It is getting a bit crowded, isn’t it?” Zinnia leaned in and whispered. “And is it me or do those two look ready to self combust?”

  With all the romance abounding in Hart Land, Cindy actually had to follow Zinnia’s glance to see which two her cousin was referring to. She had a point. With the children around, Iris and Eric seemed to rely more on furtive glances where the other newly joined couples freely indulged in stolen kisses, hand holding, and other low-keyed gestures of affection.

  Abandoning their master, Sarge and Lady each took a spot beside one of the two children. Cindy suspected it had more to do with the amount of food that found its way to the floor more than a sense of guardianship, but she could be wrong.

  The sound of a phone buzzing echoed in the crowded room. As folks meandered about pouring drinks and settling into seats, Eric glanced at his phone. The way his lips tightened into a flat line did not bode well.

  “Kurt can’t go?” Iris asked softly.

  “No.”

  Iris nodded. Apparently, they both knew something the others did not.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to skip the rest of the day,” he announced to the table.

  “Time to go back to work?” the General asked.

  Eric nodded. “Hopefully I won’t be gone more than a few days. Maybe a week.”

  The last words had Gavin’s head snapping up. “You’re going away?”

  “Remember,” Eric eased his way closer to his nephew, “we talked about this. I may have to go away from time to time because of my work.”

  The little boy’s lower lip quivered. “Can I come with you?”

  Eric drew the boy into a tight hug. “Not this time, champ. I need you to take care of Iris and Emily. I’m counting on you. Just like we talked about.”

  Cindy didn’t know about anyone else in the room, but her heart was hurting for the little man.

  “Our new family,” the little boy muttered before crawling into Iris’s lap. “I’ll take care of you, Aunt Iris, don’t you worry.”

  All eyes turned to Eric. No one missed the new use of ‘aunt’ before Iris’s name.

  “Well, we were going to make an official announcement after we had a chance to take care of a few more things, but since the cat is, what you might say
, out of the bag...” He reached for Iris’s hand and kissed the empty third finger of her left hand. “We’ll be shopping for a ring as soon as I get back.”

  Cheers erupted and chairs skidded across the wood floors as family jumped to their feet. Hugs and congratulations abounded. The sound of a champagne cork popping put a stop to all the celebratory banter.

  The General poured the first cup. “To the newest members of the Hart clan. Welcome Emily, Gavin and Eric.”

  “Thank you,” he said to the world, but smiled down on his fiancée.

  “And if you’ll have us,” the General offered another glass to the Queen who had surprisingly been the first to bolt around her seat and hug the newly engaged couple, “we’d be honored.”

  “The honor is all ours.” The Queen smiled down at her grandchildren and the happy couple.

  Whoever said fairytales didn’t come true had never been around the Hart family. If Cindy were any happier for her cousin, she’d be the one to self combust. One by one the Hart granddaughters were finding their own Prince Charming in the most unexpected of places, and falling hard.

  Yep. Cindy took a sip of the Champagne. Maybe some day one of those kittens or puppies would come with her own prince.

  ***

  So glad you could join Iris and Eric on their adventure in HART LAND. If you've read my books before, thanks for indulging while I repeat myself but Ratings and Reviews are so very important to an author's livelihood. Many of you have read my explanation of how authors (yes me too!) love to see Star Ratings. The only catch is that we have no idea what you think of a book if it's not reviewed. And yes, every book in a series needs reviews—LOTS of reviews. It’s not my intention to lecture – but many readers are unaware of the importance of reviews to an author’s career or how easy they are to write. So if you enjoyed reading IRIS please take a second to let others know what fun it is spending time in Hart Land. Reading reviews –even if they're only two words—can make an author’s day. It certainly helps mine!

  For those of you who have not read a previous book by me and have no idea why authors keep asking you as a reader to take a few minutes to leave even a two word review, here's more explanation of reviews in this crazy business.

  Reviews (not just ratings) help authors qualify for advertising opportunities and help other readers make purchasing decisions. Without triple digit reviews, an author may miss out on valuable advertising opportunities. And with only "star ratings" the author has little chance of participating in certain promotions. Which means fewer sales offered to my favorite readers!

  Another reason to take a minute and leave a review is that often a few kind words left in a review can make a huge difference to an author and their muse. Recently new to reviewing fans have left a few words after reading a similar letter and they were tonic to a tired muse! LOL Seriously. Star ratings simply do not have the same impact to thank or encourage an author when the writing gets tough.

  So please consider taking a moment to write even a handful of words. Writing a review only takes a few minutes of your time. It doesn’t have to be a lengthy book report, just a few words expressing what you enjoyed most about the story. Easy Peasy!

  Please continue to rate the books as you read, but take an extra moment and pop over to the review section and leave a few words too!

  Most of all - Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed IRIS and turn the page for an excerpt from HYACINTH.

  Chris Keniston

  ***

  Turn the page for more on HYACINTH!

  From Lily’s Recipe Box

  MANDEL BREAD (similar to biscotti)

  What you’ll need:

  1 stick salted butter

  ¾ cup sugar

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  2 eggs

  2 cups flour

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  1 cup chocolate chips

  Cinnamon

  Dash of almond extract (optional – Lily uses a capful of extract which is about ¼ teaspoon)

  ½ c sliced almonds (optional)

  Instructions:

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

  Cream butter & sugar.

  Add eggs and extract.

  Mix well.

  Add flour, baking powder.

  Mix in chocolate chips and almonds.

  Dough will be sticky.

  Dust cookie sheet and your fingers with flour and form dough into 3 logs.

  Sprinkle top of logs with cinnamon.

  Bake 35 minutes or until golden brown.

  Cool about 15 minutes.

  Cut each log into slices on the diagonal and place the slices on the cookie sheet.

  Bake again an additional 15-17 minutes until desired crispness.

  (These are yummy with morning coffee)

  Enjoy!

  Chapter Excerpt - Hyacinth

  Find a nice quiet place, he’d said. Leave the modern world behind, he’d said. You’ll get more work done, he’d said. I know the perfect place, retired Marine Colonel Francis Stewart had insisted. At least Alan Stewart’s grandfather had been right about something; Lake Lawford was one of the most beautiful and peaceful places he’d ever been.

  Too bad it wasn’t doing a dang thing for his productivity. At this point, Alan was so far behind he could see his own shadow. Not even the dummy in the middle of the room was helping. Weaving his fingers together, he stretched his arms, the cracking of knuckles filling the air. Now if only the sound of fingers tapping on the keyboard could do the same. Staring at the screen he shook his head. Why was this suddenly so difficult? For almost a month he’d been holed up in this cabin searching for his mojo. Actually, twenty-nine days, fourteen hours and, he glanced at the lower corner of the laptop screen, twenty minutes, but who was counting.

  Lifting his hands to his arms to rub away a chill, he turned his attention to the fireplace and the intricate structure of logs and kindling waiting to be lit. Not something folks raised in the south learned to build. For the last month temperatures had fooled everyone into believing summer had come early to New England. Not once had it occurred to him to light a fire; he’d done little more than admire the pile of logs. Until now. Today he wondered if Mother Nature was off her meds again.

  Since nothing else was working, pushing his seat away from the small desk, Alan crossed the room, shook his head at poor Harvey taped to the chair, and hunched down in front of the old stone fireplace. Somewhere there had to be matches. It took a few seconds to realize that the lovely foot-long hand-painted box to the right of the carved mantle held the matches he needed. It took another moment to discover that the underside of the box was the strike plate. Maybe he’d buy the cabin owner a lighter gun. Not as pretty, but much more practical. Any man who had ever lit a barbecue knew that.

  Only two attempts and gloating in his caveman success, he held the lit stick to the crumpled newspaper stuffed under the logs with the kindling. It only took a moment for the paper to catch. Who said back to nature wasn’t easy? Another second and the flames shot up like an erupting volcano. The surprise of it all knocked Alan back on his haunches. Well, flat on his backside, but who was he going to tell?

  Shoving upright, he returned to his makeshift desk. Maybe once he warmed up he could get some work done. The snap and crackle of the newly lit fire was like a mesmerizing melody. Already the heat filled the room and warmed his bones. Rubbing his hands together, he laid his fingers on the keys eager to feel the words come to life.

  Unfortunately, the only thing coming to life was the smoke in the chimney. Like tendrils in a horror flick, gray waves filled the room. Now what? Shoving his chair back he jumped to his feet, bolted across the room, and stared at the smoking fireplace. He should’ve just raised the thermostat. Vaguely remembering having seen a fire extinguisher under the kitchen sink, he pivoted in that direction and from the corner of his eye spotted a large framed lettering propped prominently on the mantle. OPEN the flue before starting a fire. Of course. But who in heaven’s na
me wants to stick their arm up a raging fire to open a flue.

  To the right a stand of iron utensils held one potentially helpful piece. Suddenly the crook end of a poker made sense. It had nothing to do with pushing and moving logs, it was all about idiots like him who forgot to open the flue. By the time he located the metal lever and pushed it to the opposite position, he might as well have been standing by San Francisco Bay on a foggy fall day. Even though the fireplace now sucked smoke up the chimney, it did nothing for the blanket of smoke hovering in the tiny cabin’s living room.

  Freezing cold or not, he had no choice. He opened one window, then the other, and waving his arms madly, opened the front door wide. All he needed now was for some neighbor to call Hart House and report he’d set the place on fire. Grabbing his notebook and the nearby magazine, he did his best to dissipate the cloud of smoke. So focused skyward on his efforts, he almost missed the big tan streak dashing from the porch through the front door and past his ankles until it almost knocked him over and darted down the narrow hall. Quickly, panic licked at his racing heart. What the heck was that? He’d spent more than one afternoon sitting on the front porch and had yet to see anything approach the cabin. He’d spotted a couple of deer up the hillside in the trees, but none of them had been young.

  Though now that he thought about it, wasn’t spring the time for all new critters. Could it have been a baby deer that flew past him? Wouldn’t he look silly calling animal control over a baby fawn. Shaking his head, he walked down the hall, hesitating a moment by the kitchen to grab a broom. Just in case. The only open door led to his room. A space too small for anything to hide. Actually, he expected to find the scared and nervous fawn huddling in a corner. When the room looked completely untouched, that meant one thing—whatever had come inside was under the bed.