Page 72 of The Surprise
“Beth, this is my sister, Helen,” Abigail says. “She’s in town, visiting. Isn’t that a great surprise?” I’ve never seen Ethan’s mother being sarcastic, so I’m not totally sure, but she almost looks like she means that it’snotgreat.
“Nice to meet you,” Helen says. “A friend of Izzy’s from school?”
“And Ethan’s too,” Gabe says.
My cheeks heat up, and I hope no one notices. “Yeah,” I say. “We’re both on the school paper.”
Izzy rolls her eyes. “I just joined and I’m clueless. Beth’s the best photographer ever. She’s been helping me out some.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you weren’t really counting on Ethan for the cake.” Helen pokes what’s left of it. “This is. . .” She snorts. “I mean, it’s probably better than what I could make, but.” She looks at Ethan. “I have the decency to know what I can and can’t do. I’d have bought one.”
“Listen,” Ethan says. “I’ve seen Mom bake a million times. I figured, how hard could it be?”
“Hard,” Helen says. “Impossible, if you don’t know all the things people who bake assume you know. Like how to measure the flour, how to tell when it’s baked—all ovens bake differently, apparently—and what happens when you’re at elevation.” She tsks. “Rookie mistake, kid.”
“What kind of cake is that?” Emery asks. “Angel’s what?”
“It’s an angel food cake,” Abigail says, “but you slice and layer it. I’ve been craving strawberries, so I did those when I saw some decent ones at the market. But you can also do chocolate.”
“You chose strawberries instead of chocolate?” Maren curls her lip. “Why?”
“Because her mother taught her not to be rude,” Helen says. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you asked why you should keep your mouth shut when you have nothing helpful to say.”
Ethan laughs out loud. “I love you, Aunt Helen. Please never leave.”
Helen wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Love you, too.”
Abigail carefully places eighteen pristine red candles in the cake, and then she lights them with the grace of a head waiter at a five-star restaurant. She lifts one hand, and as if her kids have some kind of communication device the rest of us don’t, they all start singing.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Beth, happy birthday to you.” On the second happy birthday, Emery, Maren, and Helen have caught up. Which is kind of too bad, because Maren cannotcarry a tune.
But it still feels nice.
So many people. Two cakes, even if one isn’t exactly picture perfect. When I blow the candles out, I’m fighting back tears. And before Abigail can slice it, I stop her. “Can you get a photo of both cakes?”
“I must have misheard you,” Whitney says. “There’s no way you want to rememberthat one.” She pokes at it.
“Careful,” Izzy says. “Last time we touched it, there was a landslide.”
“A cake slide,” Maren says.
“Precisely.” Izzy smirks.
Roscoe looks at it expectantly, but it holds.
“I did mean that one,” I say. “It may not be a work of art, but I want to eat both, and I want to have a photo with both. I’ve never had two cakes before.”
“I have,” Gabe says. “Lots of times.” He holds up his small hand. “Once, when I wanted a Pokémon cakeanda Ben Ten one. And once when I loved chocolate and strawberry and couldn’t pick.”
“And last year, you had three parties,” Whitney says. “One at the restaurant, one with family, and that one with your friends.”
“Only cause Dad died and everyone was all sad, so Mom kept saying I could have one more. And I only got cake at the first one.”
Talk about a conversation doorstop.
“Anyway,” Ethan says, “we all hope your birthday is great.” He hands me a plate with a slice of each kind of cake. Even though the chocolate piece is kinda mushy, I eat both of them with a smile.
Izzy ducks into her room after that and pops back out with a gift that she probably could have brought to school, but I’m glad she didn’t. It’s almost two feet tall, and probably eighteen inches wide. It’s also totally flat, so I’m guessing it’s a framed poster or something.
