Page 111 of My Merry Mistake
She leads him down the hall, and I pick up a carrot—not because I want it but because I need something to do with my hands.
“He seems nice,” Mom finally says.
“He is,” I say.
Eloise shoves a cucumber sandwich into her mouth.
“Where’d you meet?” Mom asks.
I don’t get a chance to answer, though, because Finn comes into the room, holding his phone up, clearly on a FaceTime call. “Oh, I have to show you what I made.” He walks over to the counter and picks up a wonky-looking cake. “It’s pumpkin with cream cheese frosting.”
“You made that?” I hear a voice say, along with several other voices overlapping in the background.
“That looks terrible!” the voice on the phone says.
“I know!” Finn grins. “But I tested it, and it still tastes amazing.”
It strikes me in that moment that Finn meant it when he said he doesn’t care about being the best—that perfect is the enemy of great. If I’d made that ridiculous-looking cake, I would’ve thrown it in the garbage. He put it on a plate and brought it to Thanksgiving.
And he’s proud of it. Joyful, even.
I can’t remember the last time I felt that kind of happiness. Even when I accomplish something important or finish a big project I’ve been working on, there’s no pausing to celebrate. No moment of reflection. Done? Great. On to the next.
I’ll start to work on things even before a project is finished.
Finn doesn’t suffer from that particular malady. He takes it all in stride, celebrating every success, being in the moment, not worrying about what’s coming next.
Even if it’s a cake that isn’t baked all the way through.
“Uncle Finn, I saw you hit your head!” a tiny voice says.
Eloise makes anawwwface.
Finn sets the cake down and shifts his grip on the phone. “You saw that?”
“Uh-huh,” the voice says. “Are you okay?”
“That must’ve been scary for you to watch,” he says. “But yes, I’m okay. I promise. Oh wait . . . there’s . . . something . . . happening . . .” He crosses his eyes, then uncrosses one of them, making it look like he has a lazy eye. “Wait. Is something wrong with my eyes? How do I look?” He tilts his head back and forth, turns the phone sideways, and makes a weird face. The voice on the other end bursts into laughter.
The oven timer goes off, and Finn looks up, like he’s just realized for the first time there are other people in the room. He fixes his face and the phone and looks back at the screen. “Oh, hey, Momma?—”
Eloise grins when he says this, probably because she thinks it’s adorable.
I force myself not to agree.
“I want to introduce you to the beautiful Hart women.” He turns the phone around. A woman on the screen smiles and waves.
Finn walks over to my mom, holding the phone up so they’re both in the frame. “This is Mrs. Hart?—”
Mom puts a hand on his arm. “Tammy.”
“Nope. It’s Mrs. Hart. Momma won’t like me calling you by your first name,” he says.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Mom says into the phone.
Why are my palms sweating?
“Thank you for taking in our boy,” Finn’s mom says. “He’s a lot,” she adds, laughing.
