Chapter Fifteen #2
I gave her biceps a squeeze. “We’ll get things all sorted.
It will be fine.” She gave me a big hug and hustled off to the ladies’ room to splash cold water on her face, I assumed, as I made my way back to the table.
Gilda and Anders, heck, the whole group, were waiting for me to sit.
I gave them a flimsy smile. “Everything is fine with Chloe. Bert’s fine.
There’s just been a little mix-up with your party, Gilda. ”
The happiness faded from her face. “What kind of mix-up?” Gilda asked while the rest of the table was as quiet as mice.
“Well, it seems the day after your birthday they’re double-booked and a wedding reception needs the hall. But we get it tomorrow afternoon!”
I did my best to be cheery, but the perky balloon went kind of flat. Gilda bit down on the inside of her cheek, a move I knew meant she was quite upset. “I realize the guest list will be smaller, but we’ll have a great time just the same.”
“Of course we will,” Anders chimed in, followed by every adult there assuring her that it would all be fabulous.
No cake, no DJ, and no friends. Ugh, what a kick in the shins for Gilda.
She nodded gently, worked up a smile, and assured us that it was cool.
I knew her well enough to know she was greatly disappointed, but she was handling it with maturity and grace.
My little girl was truly growing up. I hugged her to me.
“It will be the best birthday party ever.” Anders and I exchanged looks.
There was a lot to be done in a short amount of time.
“If you will order me a muffin and a coffee, I have to step outside to make a call.”
Chloe exited the bathroom looking calmer and headed toward us.
“Yes, of course, go make your call,” I told Anders.
He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and left his seat.
He motioned to Arne and Alfred as he passed them on his way to the door.
They both rose in tandem to follow him out into the cold.
“So, who wants muffins?” Chloe asked, her voice shaky.
Gilda ordered then Kimmie, opting for hot chocolate and a muffin while the rest of us got coffee or hot tea with our baked treat.
The table was alive with party ideas. Gilda was subdued but tried her best. I kept an eye on Anders, talking to his bodyguards as well as someone on the phone.
Within minutes, they were back inside, the guardians at their own table, and Anders sitting beside me.
“I had to hurry and check if my surprise for Gilda could come tomorrow as well as reply to a notice from home,” he whispered into my ear as coffee, tea, and cocoa were served. “They assure me it can be made to happen.”
“Is everything okay at home?”
“Yes, it will progress without me at the moment,” he stiffly assured me, so I let it go. It sounded as if he might have to return to the situation in some manner soon but that was none of my business.
“Good, I’m glad.” He gave my thigh a squeeze under the table. “And I’m happy her present will be delivered early, even though you didn’t have to go to that kind of trouble.”
“It was no trouble. It was my pleasure. Don’t worry. We’ll make sure her party is talked about for years to come.”
He was so sweet. I hoped we could pull together a party worthy of the young woman who had handled this disappointment with such dignity. Katie was surely proud of her. I knew I was.
***
After being assured that Arne knew how to crossfade with the best of ?stermon’s well-known DJs, they took Anders back to his dog as the caroling get-together broke up.
Truth be told, the abrupt change of plans had thrown everyone into either a turmoil of worry—me—or a funk—Gilda—so the ho-ho-ho vibe was deeply chilled.
Gilda was quiet on the way home, and I’d not pushed her too hard to communicate.
I’d let her settle in and check on her before bed.
Tomorrow was going to be frantic, so I decided to just close the shop for the day.
Probably if I were as dedicated as some, I would go in to finish working on the few jobs that remained, but I was too damn tired.
I’d reach out on the morrow to let folks know to come in the following day.
The list of things to get ready for the party would take all day.
Once we were home, Gilda went to her room, quietly closing the door and turning up some BSX2 to drown her sorrows.
While she had been all stiff upper lip in public, I knew she was sad.
Granted, she was three days away from official teendom, which many would say meant childish things like tears and fits of pique should be left behind.
I personally felt that thirteen was still childhood, late, yes, but a thirteen-year-old was far from an adult.
Even if they themselves felt they were grown up.
So I suspected she was hiding some tears in private.
I made myself a cup of coffee and took it to the living room and pulled my ratty old laptop from under the coffee table.
Sipping my umpteenth cup of the day, I worked on a to-do list for tomorrow.
I might need help. The baking and treat prep was going to be large.
I texted Anders as an older BSX2 song “Shiny Sugar Cake” floated around the house.
The lights on the tree were on, softly blinking, and I found myself singing along to the slow song detailing a bad breakup with a sour cake that opened the boys up to finding their shiny sugar cake girl.
Sure, it was kind of hokey, but I’d grown to really like some of the band’s songs.
I sent Anders a message around eleven to ask for his help.
He assured me he would be here with bells on at nine sharp to help however he could.
When asked if he wanted me to come get him, he said no, he would drive the camper since it needed gas.
Was he planning on leaving soon? Was that message from home calling him back?
I wanted to ask. Badly. But I replied I would see him at nine and thanked him profusely yet again.
He replied with a dozen or so kissy faces and cake emojis before signing off.
A yawn surprised me just as Gilda’s door creaked open. She pit-patted out to the kitchen in her fleece jammies and opened the fridge.
“There’s some vanilla almond milk for pancakes in there if you want some,” I called over my shoulder.
“Cool.” She puttered about and then came out to join me, handing me a store-bought cookie and a small glass of milk.
“Is it wrong to be mad at Chloe for messing up my party?” She sat on the edge of the sofa, eyes on the cookie in her hand, shoulders bowed.
“I know like…that I should be forgiving. Pastor Pete would say so and that’s right, right? ”
Oh boy. This was the kind of deep discussion that really needed that parenting manual that should be handed out when you take your newborn home. Sure, it would be a book the size of my Subaru but so worth the backache to carry into the house.
“I think it’s perfectly fine to feel a little resentment over Chloe’s mistake. You’ve been super excited about your party for months and having everything changed is bound to make you feel things and not all good things. We all have darker emotions, and it’s okay to feel them.”
“Timmy can’t even come now,” she confessed with a sigh. I rubbed her rounded back.
“Oh, that’s a bummer. I didn’t know he was even coming.”
“Yeah, well, he told me on the last day of school when we were having lunch.” She picked a chocolate chip from her cookie and ate it.
“Do you eat lunch together now?” I nonchalantly asked. I’d known she and her girlfriends had been lunch buddies for years, but was Timmy now part of the clique?
“Sort of. Just since we stopped at the coffee shop that night for coffee and a muffin.” She shrugged as if it were nothing, but if my memory of junior high was still viable then sitting with someone at lunch was a pretty big thing.
Of course that might have changed. I was a veritable dinosaur, just ask my child.
“So I asked him if he wanted to come, and he was totally good for coming. He’d be back that morning from seeing his dad in Ohio, but now he can’t come because he’s in Ohio until the morning of the twenty-sixth, which sucks really badly, and it’s all Chloe’s fault.
It makes me mad, but then I feel bad for being mad because she was really upset and crying, and I like Chloe.
She taught me how to do a seed stitch. And…
and I know Pastor Pete would tell me it was not Christlike to be petty about something like a dumb party, which is right too, but I really feel upset, then I feel bad for being mad. ”
“Aw, baby, life is such a tough road sometimes.” I slid my arm around her shoulders.
She sagged into my side, so I wiggled closer to hold her tighter.
“I’m not a really religious man—your mother was much more devout than I am—but I think even Jesus got mad at times.
Didn’t he lose his cool and fling tables around and yell at merchants to hit the dusty trail? ”
“Sure, yeah, but that was something important. He wasn’t being catty over a stupid birthday party.”
“True, but he also probably could have not lost his temper, but he did, and I figure if Jesus can lose his cool and feel big feelings then so can you.” She curled up tight just as she used to do as a toddler when a bad dream scared her.
“Also, it’s normal to be disappointed. I am, and it isn’t even my birthday.
So feel all those emotions as you should then you can let them go.
Tomorrow will be a super-busy day. Anders and Della will be here to help us make the most incredible cake ever baked. ”
“Can it be light blue with fish like Hoon’s hoodies?” she asked as she brought her cookie up for a nibble, head still on my shoulder.
“Sure, it can be whatever you want it to be. Heck, we can even put real fish on it if you want.”
“Eww, Dad, that is gross.” She scoffed lightly, but I heard the suppressed giggle.
“So totally gross. Do you want to help with the revamped plans?” I patted the laptop which had now gone black.
“Okay, yeah, I guess.”
I pressed a kiss on her soft brown hair then we set about planning the best hurry-up party that Grouse Falls would ever witness. Tales would be told of this fete for decades, I was sure. Nothing said epic last-minute shindig like a blue fish layer cake.