“You don’t really hang out with the other parents, do you?” he said with a frown of realization. “Is that because you work so much? You and Quinley were always friends, weren’t you? Her son is Biyen’s age, I thought.”
He didn’t recall that she and Quinley had been rivals for his affections?
“People around here all have something to say about something. I can’t be bothered trying to straighten them out. I keep my distance and they keep theirs.”
“What kinds of things are they talking about?” he asked with suspicion.
“You staying in my house. Nolan staying on my lawn.”
“Oh for fu—” He stopped himself from swearing and glanced at the kids. “Really? Why didn’t you say something?”
“I did,” she assured him with a blithe bat of her lashes. “That’s why they send their kids here without setting foot on my lawn.”
“Oh?” His mouth twitched. “I’m not actually surprised by that. What happened?” He folded his arms, enjoying this, she could tell.
“I might have had a teeny-weeny tantrum at a bake sale my first year back. Not my best day,” she admitted, wrinkling her nose in self-disgust. “I mean, if certain people didn’t have gossip, they wouldn’t have anything at all, right? I should feel sorry for them. Instead, I set fire to a few bridges over a couple of remarks that weren’t untrue, just hypocritical. Hypercritical, in my opinion. Then I paid for the cake I had thrown on the floor and left.”
He was trying to stifle his laughter with his fist. “How have I never heard about this?”
“Because Quinley Banks knows I’m a crazy bitch who will murder a cake if she talks smack about me again.”
“Oh shi—eesh.” His shoulders were shaking.
“The boys play sometimes, but we keep to our corners.”
“And you don’t let her come to his party because you’re worried she’ll retaliate? Throw Biyen’s cake on the grass?”
“I paid a lot for the vegan, T-rex decal that I had to fix myself because they spelled his name wrong. Again.”
Over at the porch, laughter went up and Biyen said, “We can’t.”
“Of course, you can,” Gramps insisted, leaning forward in his chair to point at the little packages of jelly beans. “Take the black ones out and put the rest in the goody bags.”
“You can have this one,” Imogen said helpfully. “I counted. It’s extra.” She held up a package that Sophie knew held half a dozen jelly beans. “It has a black one.”
“I don’t like the other colors, only the black ones. Fetch the scissors, Biyen.” Gramps was having as much fun as the kids with this performance. “We’ll nip the corner off each of these and I’ll take the black one. I’ll eat them before the kids get here. No one will ever know.”
“No!” The kids were all giggling. “They’ll fall out.”
“So?”
“You can’t have sugar, Gramps,” Biyen reminded him.
“You came back for Art, didn’t you?” Logan said.
While she’d been grinning at the shenanigans on the porch, he’d been watching her. A sense of transparency had her folding her arms.
“He was missing Mom as much as I was. I thought I’d visit for a week or so, but I could see how much he’d aged.” A tiny tremor entered her voice as she accepted her grandfather would not be here forever. “I came pretty close to quitting when Tiffany started turning this place upside down, though. Gramps or no Gramps. Then Em showed up and she’s been such a good friend, I couldn’t abandon her.”
“Yeah, Em’s pretty great.”
“But I’m worried about Gramps. He’s been… I thought it was grief over your dad, but he’s… I don’t know. Tired, I guess. Can I ask you a favor?”
“Of course.” He sobered with concern.
“I’m going to make him a doctor appointment. He always says he doesn’t want to put me out, because I’m always busy with work and Biyen. Maybe if you said you were going over to Bella Bella anyway? Then he wouldn’t have an excuse not to go.”
“Done,” he assured her.
“Thanks. Oh. Here we go.” She nodded at the kids walking up the driveway, all carrying wrapped gifts. “Fasten your seatbelt and put your tray table up.”
*
The chaos of sugar-saturated children reigned for two hours.
Logan helped get hot dogs into them, then sparked a tantrum in Storm when he wouldn’t let her have a bite of his.
“I put hot mustard on it,” he argued, but no, he had betrayed her with his selfishness. He would not be forgiven. Ever.
“Umm-umma,” she cried pitifully and reached for Emma.
“Poor thing. Come sit with me. Look, I brought your cereal,” she said of the toasted O’s she produced from the diaper bag.
Storm settled between Emma’s legs on a blanket and chased spilled O’s while everyone sang “Happy Birthday” to Biyen and his cake was served.
The kids all sat on the grass to eat while they watched Biyen open his presents. They were a predictable assortment of LEGO kits and dinosaurs, books and a stuffed spirit bear that the Kiwi kids had picked up while away on their cruise.
“Cooper. Imogen,” Emma called softly, waving them closer.
