Chapter 137

Iris

The morning sun shines through the large windows of the dining room as we all gather for breakfast. Miles is feeling much better, and thankfully, his fever was completely gone when I checked on him this morning. He’s currently perched on my mother’s lap, happily devouring a stack of chocolate chip pancakes that the cook made especially for him.

It seems as though Miles’ brief bout of food poisoning last night—likely from the sandwich Arthur and I picked up for him on the way to the airport—has left him ravenous.

“Slow down, sweetie,” I laugh from across the table. “The pancakes aren’t going anywhere.”

Miles ignores me completely, too busy stuffing his face and basking in the attention my mother is lavishing on him. She seems completely enchanted by him, helping him cut his pancakes into bite-sized pieces and wiping chocolate from the corners of his mouth.

The sight nearly makes me burst into tears.

Is this what I missed growing up? A mother who would cut my food and clean my face? Who would look at me with such adoration?

It’s not just about me, though. I don’t even care at this point that I didn’t get to have this as a child. I’m just glad to see Miles being doted on by grandparents who love him—a dream that I’ve had for him since the moment I held him in my arms for the first time.

“He’s got quite the appetite,” my father comments with a chuckle. “Just like someone else I know.” He glances at Arthur, who is currently on his third helping of eggs and bacon.

Arthur smiles around a mouthful of bacon. “What can I say? Goes right to the muscles.”

“True enough,” my father agrees, pouring himself more coffee. “I remember when I was your age, I could eat an entire roast by myself after a good run.”

“You still can,” my mother quips without looking up from helping Miles with his juice. “I’ve seen you do it.”

We all laugh, and I find myself marveling at how… normal this all feels. Sitting around a table with my family—my real, biological family—sharing breakfast and jokes. It’s something I never thought I’d experience, something I’d long ago given up dreaming about.

I want to savor it until the end of my days.

Suddenly, the dining room door opens, and an elderly woman enters. I do a double take when I see her; it’s the same woman from last night, the one who stared at me so strangely in the courtyard before hurrying away.

She’s dressed more formally now, in a neat gray dress with a white collar, her silver hair pulled back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She stops in the doorway, hands folded neatly in front of her.

“Ah, Nora,” my mother says warmly. “Come join us.”

The woman hesitates, her eyes flicking to me briefly before she approaches the table.

“Iris, this is Nora,” my mother explains. “She’s been with our family for many years. She’s the family nanny.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Nora has been a trusted advisor and friend to our family for decades,” my father adds. “She helped raise both Caleb and… well, Selina.”

His voice trails off meaningfully, and for a moment, the table goes quiet as the implication sinks in. If I hadn’t been switched at birth, Nora would have been my nanny. Not Selina’s.

I can’t even believe that I would have had a nanny. At the orphanage, if the headmistress was busy—which she often was—it was usually the older children who cared for the younger ones.

My mother smiles and breaks the tension. “Nora actually helped deliver you, Iris. She held my hand the whole time and practically pushed the nurses out of the way to get to you when you finally popped out after a grueling eighteen hours of labor.”

I look at Nora in surprise, who nods her head politely. I almost want to ask if she had any idea that I was swapped, but I doubt it. No one knew. It’s just one of those things that happens sometimes; maternity wards get crowded. Mistakes happen.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” I say, standing and extending my hand to her. “Properly, I mean. I think we had a bit of an awkward moment last night in the courtyard.”

“Yes,” she says stiffly, briefly shaking my hand. “I apologize for staring. It was quite rude of me. My old eyes aren’t what they used to be, so I didn’t recognize you.”

“No worries,” I assure her with a smile. “I was the one wandering around in the middle of the night.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause, and I wonder if I’ve said something wrong. Nora doesn’t seem particularly warm toward me, although she smiles slightly at Miles when he looks up at her.

My mother beckons her closer. “Come have some breakfast, Nora. We’re having a family morning.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Nora says, although she does take a seat at the far end of the table when my father insists. Far away from me.

“You’re not intruding,” Caleb assures her. “You’re practically family.” He turns to me. “Nora was more of a mother to me than a nanny when we were growing up.”

Our mother gasps. “Caleb!”

My brother’s face reddens. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that you and Dad were often busy with your duties, but Nora was always there. I felt like I had two mothers at times.” He gives Nora a warm smile, which she returns. Sort of.

I nod, trying to imagine this stern woman caring for a young Caleb. It’s not hard to picture her ensuring he did his homework and ate his vegetables, but I wonder if she was affectionate too. Did she hug him when he fell and hurt himself? Did she tuck him in at night and read him stories?

Did she do those things for Selina, thinking she was me?

The thought brings up a strange mixture of emotions—jealousy, sadness, curiosity. I push them aside, though, and focus on being polite.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you, then,” I say to Nora. “I’m grateful for everything you did for my family.”

Nora gives me a small nod but says nothing more. Throughout the rest of breakfast, she speaks when spoken to, but otherwise remains quiet, occasionally stealing glances at me when she thinks I’m not looking.

I try not to let it bother me. She’s probably just shy, or perhaps feels a little guilty that I was swapped at birth. Or maybe she’s just not a very warm person in general. Not everyone has to be a ball of sunshine all the time, after all.

After breakfast, we say our goodbyes to my parents and Caleb. My mother hugs me tightly, whispering, “Think about what we discussed last night,” in my ear. I offer her a subtle nod and a smile as I pull back.

I’ve already got a lot of ideas in regards to last night’s discussion. I hardly slept, too busy thinking about all of the possibilities. I’m hoping to unveil some of my ideas at the end of my residency as part of my final presentation.

By the time we arrive, I’m buzzing to get to work. I hardly even wait for Arthur to park the car before I’m getting out and gathering my things.

Arthur sticks around briefly, helping me and Miles settle in. I’m not thrilled to see him go, but we both have duties to attend to—him more than me, what with a week’s worth of presidential responsibilities to catch up on.

We say goodbye at the door with a promise to see each other soon. I watch him go, trying not to think too hard about moving back in with him once this is all over—no more goodbyes, no more sleepovers.

Once Miles is settled with a snack and a movie, I hurry to my studio and pull out the largest canvas I have—a monster of a canvas spanning five and a half feet across and six feet tall. I lay out my paints and other supplies, roll up my sleeves, and throw open the windows so I don’t breathe in too many fumes.

And then I get to work.