Page 71 of The Surprise
“Right. Better to eat it while it’s still standing upright,” I say. “Let’s do it.”
“We have to sing first,” Gabe says. “And we need candles.”
It takes three kids opening at least fifteen drawers before candles are located, and they don’t match. “It’s fine,” I say. “Really.”
“Where’s Amanda?” Izzy asks. “She doesn’t eat much cake, but she loves parties.”
“She had to meet a contractor,” Maren says. “That’s why she said we could come over.”
I forgot they’re living at Amanda Saddler’s now.
“Contractor? Do you mean the tile guy?” Emery asks.
“Sure, whatever,” Maren says.
How strange to have a mom who’s always changing her career. First an influencer, then a cookie shop owner, and now she’s meeting tile guys. I wonder whether Maren and Emery like it or hate it, but I don’t ask. Generally speaking, I try not to ask questions about things when I have no idea what the answer might be.
“Alright, here we go.” Izzy starts poking candles into the cake, but the structural integrity of the cake wasn’t ever that great, and apparently it wasn’t really up to taking additional damage. When she pushes the fourth candle in, it splits, the lower, saggier one third shearing off and falling onto the floor with a splat.
“Um.” Gabe tilts his head sideways and scrunches up his nose. “That looks gross. I don’t want any.”
“Hey, now,” Ethan says. “That’s not very nice. It’s a great chocolate cake.”
Roscoe sees his shot and snags a huge chunk.
“Wait, that’s chocolate,” Emery says. “Dogs can’t have chocolate.”
No one told Roscoe that fact, because that cup-sized chunk is already gone, and he’s darting toward it, going for more. Ethan leaps into the fray to stop him, and I’m a little worried he’s about to lose a finger.
The front door opens, and Abigail and someone who looks a little like her, but somehow scarier, step through the door, both of them holding bags. “Good afternoon.” Abigail’s eyes swivel back and forth, taking in all the kids and the dog and the ruined cake. Just then, another soggy chunk of it gives up and falls.
Onto Ethan’s head.
He shoves it off and says a not-very-nice word. Then his eyes widen. He stands up slowly, his hands both turned palm out. “Things are fine, but the cake I made did not turn out very well, and Roscoe was eating it, which is bad, because dogs can’t have chocolate.” He looks more like a toddler than I have ever seen him look.
I should not be smiling.
No one else is.
Until Abigail starts laughing.
The woman next to her is looking at her like she’s insane.
When they see their mother laughing, Izzy, Whitney, and Gabe start laughing too. Ethan gets a beleaguered look on his face, like he’s the long-suffering butt of a lot of jokes. “I’ll just go take a shower.”
“Well, you could do that.” Abigail wipes her eyes. “But then you’d miss the birthday song and the cutting of the actual birthday cake.”
“What are you talking about?” Ethan practically juts his bottom lip out. “I already messed that up. See?” He points at his head. “I’m wearing it.”
Abigail ducks out of the room, into the area that used to be a corner, and reappears, carrying a huge, fluffy, white cake. “I made this last night and left it out there so we’d have room in the inside fridge.”
“Ooh,” Izzy says. “I love the Angel’s Delight cake.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
Abigail sets it on the counter.
“Yeah, what is it?” the woman asks.
