CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Gideon and I don’t manage to organize a second date. We keep meaning to, but I’m swept up in preparations for Lisset’s birthday party. Usually, I keep her birthday a low-key affair. In the past, she’s invited a friend or two over for a movie and sleepover, but this year, I somehow ended up agreeing to a big birthday bash. Partly due to Lisset hauling out some impressive logic when she informed me we ought to celebrate that she’s reading again. And partly because Gideon has turned me into a soft and sappy woman who’s saying yes to too many things.
Now I have eight girls coming to my house today to celebrate Lisset turning nine. At least the weather’s on our side, which was my greatest worry, considering I’ve hired a bounce castle for the day. It’s a little windy but shaping up to be a lovely hot Saturday. I’m thankful Lisset’s birthday falls in June and not in freezing January.
I have roughly an hour before the girls start arriving. Everything is under control. The chocolate cake came out rich and moist. The decorations are up, thanks to Gideon dropping by yesterday and volunteering to hang up streamers and balloons. He even bought Lisset a personalized pink neon sign bearing her name, which she has declared her favorite decoration of all time.
The bounce castle should be arriving any minute and the professional fairy entertainer is scheduled to appear halfway through the party.
I head to Lisset’s bedroom to check on her. She’s in her pink party dress and brushing her hair at her dressing table.
“Want me to braid your hair?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I want to wear it loose. Can you help me with my clips?”
“Sure.”
I use the mini claw clips to pin the front pieces of her hair back from her face. A knot forms in my throat as I stare at her beautiful face in the dressing room mirror.
“You look so grown up,” I say to her. “Like a young lady.”
She beams, pleased. “Thanks, Mom.”
I smooth my hands over my forest green sundress. Now that we’ve tipped over into summer, I’m wearing dresses more often. I like the way I feel in them. I like the way Gideon’s face lights up when he sees me wearing one. The way his gaze keeps straying to my legs.
His parting comment— I’ve got a thing for you —has slipped under my skin and I hear the echo of it every day. He’s everything I thought I never wanted in a man and now he’s an all-consuming craving I can’t shrug off.
I’ve got a thing for him too .
We’re building up to something, the archetypal snowball rolling down the mountain, gathering size and momentum.
My phone rings. I answer, and when it sinks in what the man on the other end of the line is saying, my heart drops.
“What do you mean you’re canceling the bounce castle?”
“I’m sorry, but the high winds make it too dangerous to set up.”
“What wind?” I ask, even as I peer out Lisset’s window and glimpse some of the younger trees on the street bending and swaying. “Can’t you just peg it more securely?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Panic squeezes my chest. “You can’t cancel on me!”
“We’ll give you a full refund,” the man assures me.
I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger and squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t care about the refund.” Not true, but I’m making a point. “What I do care about is the fact that I have eight girls coming over in an hour for a birthday party. What am I going to do?”
“This is not our fault,” he informs me stiffly.
It’s no one’s fault. Why didn’t I check the weather? Why didn’t these people check the weather? Why didn’t the weather just behave for one day?
I hang up the phone and open my eyes to find Lisset’s anxious face peering up at me.
I find a smile for her. “It’s okay, honey. We’ll hang out inside the house. And remember, we still have the special fairy coming.”
“Okay, Mom.”
The trust in her voice causes a spasm of anxiety in my stomach. I drag in a breath. It’s okay. I’ve got this. The fairy entertainer is only booked for an hour, but maybe I can ask her to extend her time. It’ll stretch an already tight budget, but at this point I don’t care how much extra I have to pay. As long as I can erase that disappointed look on my daughter’s face.
The girls start arriving from noon onwards. They head to the living room where I’ve set up drinks and snacks. I overhear them admiring each other’s dresses. Hopefully, the opening of the presents will occupy them for a while.
At one-thirty, the doorbell rings. Relief rushes through me. The fairy entertainer is here. I open the front door and stare at the person standing on my front porch. Lisset wanted a fairy, but the person in front of me is dressed head to toe in black. A black tank top, black tulle skirt, and straight, jet black hair. Even her lipstick is black. She’s also leaning into the raccoon look with the heavy application of dark gray eyeshadow.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
She pops her bubblegum. “I’m Tasia. The fairy you asked for.”
“No,” I tell her firmly. “You’re at the wrong house.”
“Don’t think so.” She glances at the pretty colorful balloons I’ve tied to the mailbox outside. “This looks like a birthday girl’s house.” She consults her phone. “The birthday girl is Lisset, right?”
“Yes.” Dismay spikes inside me. “But I requested a fairy. Why are you dressed like that?”
Tasia looks bored. “I’m a goth fairy.”
I shake my head. “There’s no such thing.”
Now she looks affronted. “Of course there is. I’m part of a new generation of unconventional party entertainers.”
I’m still shaking my head. No, this can’t be happening. I’m trapped in someone else’s nightmare. “I don’t want an unconventional fairy,” I get out. “My nine-year-old daughter wants a conventional fairy.”
“It’s good to challenge norms and stereotypes,” Tasia replies. “Your girl is never too young to learn.”
I glare at her. “All I wanted today was a fairy, not a lecture.”
“Chill. She’ll get her fairy. I’ve even got wings.” Tasia reaches into an oversized bag hanging from her shoulder and pulls out black wings that look like they belong on an avenging angel. They also look like they’d scare the life out of every single girl present. No one wants Maleficent at a children’s party. I’d be buried under bills for all the therapist fees afterward.
“Look, this isn’t going to work,” I say to the...whatever it is. “You’re too scary for the kids.”
“Seriously?”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
With a muttered expletive, the black-clad fairy storms into a battered car and roars off down the street.
I don’t know how long I simply stand there in the entryway. I’m the person who anticipates complications and prepares for setbacks, but I’ve dropped the ball with Lisset’s party. I have no contingency plan.
“Mom, where’s the fairy?” Lisset asks.
I close the front door and turn to face her. “The fairy didn’t work out, Lis.”
Disappointment, followed by alarm, chases across her face. “But I want a fairy!”
“I know.” I swallow. “I could raid my wardrobe and try to be one.”
Lisset gives a vehement head shake. “No.”
I’m not offended. We both know I’m not fairy material.
“What about Auntie Tess?” she asks, hope flaring across her face.
If anyone could pull it off, it’ll be Tess. She’s that mix of fun and zany that the kids will respond to, but she and Aaron are spending today at a spa after a crazy few weeks of deadlines. They deserve this break. I know my sister, though. If I call her, she’ll drop everything and rush over to help me, but they’re already taking Lisset out to dinner tonight and then having her sleep over. I can’t ask her to give up her day as well.
“Auntie Tess is away for the day,” I tell Lisset. “She won’t be able to help us.”
Tears fill Lisset’s eyes. We’ve been planning this party for weeks and she was so looking forward to it. Now, we have no bounce castle and no fairy entertainer. My chest tightens. I have to fix this.
“We can play pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, Duck, Duck, Goose,” I suggest.
“Mom, we’re too old for those games.”
My shoulders sag a bit. “Okay.”
I rack my brain for more ideas. I’m a problem solver. I can do this. I solve problems at work all the time. But those problems suddenly seem straightforward compared to the one facing me now. My daughter’s huge dark eyes stare at me expectantly, waiting to see what rabbit I can pull out of a hat.
But there’s no rabbit. I’m out of magic tricks.
“I’ll think of something,” I reassure her.
She nods, but I’m not sure she believes me as she wanders dolefully down the hallway to rejoin the rest of the girls in the living room.
I know what’s going through her mind, because she’s explained this scenario to me numerous times. If the girls leave the party and complain to everyone how bored they were, that’ll be the death knell for any future parties for Lisset. At least for a long while. The world of school is particularly brutal. A lame party is not easily forgiven.
I’m still standing frozen in the entryway, my mind spinning in every direction except a constructive one, when the doorbell rings.
Gideon stands on my porch, looking puzzled. “Did a goth fairy just leave your house?”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Yes.”
“I thought for a moment I was hallucinating.”
“No hallucination. Just my present nightmare.”
He holds up a gift-wrapped package. “I have a present for the birthday girl.”
I look at the present, then at him, then back at the present. My brain can’t seem to decide what to do. “Do you want to give it to her?”
“Not if it’s a bad time.”
“She’s having a party.”
He tilts his head at the balloons on the mailbox. “That was my guess. How’s it going so far?”
“Well, the bounce castle was cancelled because it’s too windy to set up. The party entertainer I hired turned out to be a terrifying dark fairy strung out on nihilism. Lisset is so disappointed, and I don’t know what to do with nine bored kids for the next couple of hours.”
“Let me help.”
I frown at him. “How?”
I mean, the man doesn’t have kids. He has no nieces or nephews. What experience would he have in rescuing a children’s birthday party?
“Step aside, Your Skepticalness. You clearly aren’t aware of my many hidden talents.”
When I still stand there, staring at him in astonishment, he places his hands on my shoulders and gently moves me to the side so he can step past me into the entryway.
“Let’s do this,” he says, striding down the hallway.
The take-charge vibe he’s giving off is oddly appealing. It shouldn’t be and somewhere inside me there’s a feminist squawking her outrage, but her voice is becoming dimmer and dimmer as I trail after Gideon in my new favorite game called Follow the Leader .
I’m still unsure if this party is going to be a complete disaster or if Gideon will somehow save the day, but I’m willing to give him a chance.
Lisset’s face lights up the instant she sees him. “Gideon!”
“Birthday girl!” He high-fives her and hands over his present. “You can open it later.”
She promptly ignores his advice and rips off the wrapping paper. “An American Girl doll!” she squeals. “Gideon, thank you! Thank you!” She throws her arms around his waist and hugs him tightly.
Eight girls stare awestruck at a very attractive Gideon before shifting their gazes to a very expensive doll.
“Ladies,” Gideon acknowledges. “Are you ready to party?”
A chorus of enthusiastic cheers follows his question.
“All right, then, everyone in the dining room.”
The girls are intrigued enough to traipse obediently into the dining room. I follow more slowly. Who is this man? He doesn’t appear hesitant or unsure of himself, acting as though commandeering children’s birthday parties is part of his everyday skillset.
“Take a seat.”
They each take a seat at the table.
“Anyone have any food allergies?” he asks.
“I’m allergic to peanuts,” one girl pipes up.
“Got it,” Gideon says. “Anyone else?”
They all shake their heads.
“Good. Our first game will be a MasterChef blindfold tasting challenge.” He waits for the round of excited murmurs to die down before he looks at me. “The girls will need to be blindfolded. Do you have any scarves?”
I raise my eyebrows at him. Did he seriously ask me that? Scarves are my absolute favorite fashion accessory.
“I’ll have you know I’m a scarf girl all the way,” I tell him.
His eyes hold mine for a fraction of a second, then one corner of his mouth tips up into a grin and he winks at me. That wink slides right into my stomach, stirring up all kinds of sensations there.
Oh.
I refuse to allow my imagination to follow whatever path his mind has evidently decided to travel.
“My assistant will fetch the scarves,” Gideon declares, “as well as paper and pens for everyone.”
There’s silence while we all wait in anticipation.
Gideon looks pointedly at me. “Assistant?”
My eyes widen. “Me?”
“Correct.”
“But—”
“Chop, chop. We don’t have all day.”
Lisset and the girls explode into giggles. Gideon’s mischievous expression tells me he’s enjoying playing his part to the hilt.
I execute a slightly sarcastic curtsy. “Your lowly assistant is here to do your bidding...sir.”
I return with paper, pens, and scarves, and dump them onto the table. The girls will have fun sorting through them and buying us time to organize food samples.
In the kitchen, I ask Gideon, “What do you have in mind?”
“We’ll do two tastings—a savory and a sweet one. I’m thinking five food items in each category. Kids this age can be fussy, so we’ll choose foods that won’t gross them out. We’ll make it challenging, so no easy-to-guess foods like bananas or apples, but nothing too difficult either.”
My mind is buzzing. “It’s a great idea. I also have prizes for the winners.”
I’d bought a bunch of cheap, fun toys I know the girls will be delighted to win. Pretty keychains they can hang off their backpacks, scrunchies, sparkly hair clips, and fragrant erasers.
We quickly debate the various food options. For savory, we settle on Doritos, pickles, celery, carrot, and feta cheese. Sweet items will include Skittles, dried dates, kiwi fruit, nectarines, and licorice.
We move comfortably around one another in the kitchen as we cut the food up into bite-sized pieces and place them into reusable paper cups. Gideon is relaxed and teasing, and we end up laughing a lot while working alongside one another.
Once the food prep is done, I blindfold the girls, who are still chatting away. They inform me this is the first time they’ve done a tasting challenge at a birthday party. Lisset’s face shines with happiness when the girls compliment her on such a cool idea. I have a feeling they’ll be talking about this for weeks.
When the girls are all blindfolded, Gideon brings out nine cups of pickles on a tray. We place a cup in front of each blindfolded girl, warn them not to say out loud the answer, and instruct them to go ahead and taste the sample. If they don’t like it, they can spit it out in a tissue. Gideon and I grin at one another as we watch the girls’ reactions after tasting the food. We remove the cups, and all of them write down what they think the food was. Then it’s on to the next round.
Every single one of them loves the challenge of trying to guess what they’re eating based on taste and texture alone. There are lots of spluttering sounds and shrieks, as well as dramatic yucks and yums , which is exactly what you’re aiming for in a successful taste test.
After the tasting challenge, Gideon rigs up a Mission Impossible-style obstacle course in the hallway. He uses masking tape to hold in place various colored strings at different angles, and gives the girls their mission in a deep, stern voice. After they complete the mission, he hands them a prize.
His imagination and enthusiasm enthrall me. Gideon is fully committed to ensuring Lisset has the best possible birthday party.
The girls, including Lisset, are ecstatic. They’ve all fallen a little bit in love with Gideon. I have a feeling Lisset will place him on a pedestal for a long time after this.
“Is that your mom’s boyfriend?” one of the girls whispers to Lisset.
I don’t hear her answer, but I know Gideon heard the question. His only response was a small smile.
The rest of the time flies by. Once the girls have all left and Tess arrives to pick up Lisset, who tells her this was the best party she’s ever had, Gideon insists on staying to help clean up. I tell him he doesn’t have to, that he’s already done so much, but he stands firm, and I’m too worn out to argue with him. In truth, I’m grateful for his help.
“You really saved me today,” I say to Gideon after we’ve cleared away all the party stuff and the house is reasonably tidy. “How can I thank you for all your help?”
He pushes in the last of the dining room chairs and slowly straightens. “I have one request.”
His dangerously soft voice and the look in his eyes should have warned me, but I was in a post-party haze and too full of gratitude for all he’d done for us.
“Name it,” I tell him.
“I want you to play the blindfold tasting challenge with me.”