Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
“Not to worry on that front,” Rosie said, breezing into the kitchen with a stack of dirty dishes. “Sam’s here for an early dinner, and he mentioned Hank’s challenged him to a game of checkers tonight.”
Joy made her hands light as she opened the top on the tub of sprinkles. “Perfect. Let Sam know what we’re planning and spread the word to all the tenants. I want this to be a birthday celebration he’ll remember.”
Hank massaged the back of his neck and headed toward Grandma Lou’s. After a full day of physical labor, he looked forward to sitting down and enjoying whatever homemade dish Bethany had cooked up today. He opened the door to its familiar jingle and squinted at the balloons taped to the counter.
“Surprise! Happy Birthday!” A slew of familiar faces came from behind the counter and the kitchen.
Hank stopped moving and paused in the doorway, stunned into silence. A happy birthday banner stretched across the back wall, and balloons in a variety of colors were taped to the walls. Sparkling streamers hung from the ceiling.
Hank nodded at Mitch, Patty, and Angel, and there was Sam, who grinned at him, his gold tooth flashing.
Tia and Tana grabbed his hands and tugged him toward the table in the center of the room.
Rosie, Travis, and Bethany stood to the side of the table, which held a giant chocolate cake on a white stand.
Other guests Hank recognized as frequent customers or those who owned businesses in the building clustered around the table with drinks in their hands.
Behind them, steam rose from a pasta bar set in the corner.
Hank looked at Bethany. “You did all this for me?”
Her eyes sparkled. “I had helpers. The girls and I wanted it to be a surprise. Happy birthday, Hank.”
Tia handed him a card. He studied the drawing. On the outside, someone had sketched a picture of a large bumblebee, which had been colored in with a yellow marker. The card read, “Hap-Bee Birthday.” Inside were the signatures of what must have been everyone who’d ever stepped foot in Grandma Lou’s.
“Do you like it?” Tana asked.
Hank couldn’t stop his smile. “I’ve never had a better card,” he said, and he meant it. “How’d you know I like bees?”
“Our mom drew it. We colored it,” said Tia.
“Come and make yourself a plate of pasta,” Bethany said, eyes shining. “But first, we have to sing happy birthday.” She lit a single large white candle in the middle of the cake. “C’mon, everyone. One, two, three . . .”
A chorus of voices rang out—some couldn’t carry a tune, but Hank thought it was the sweetest melody he’d ever heard.
“You must make a wish,” Rosie said.
Hank closed his eyes and wished. He wished Bethany would always look at him this way, her face soft and eyes glowing with affection. He wished all his friendships were honest and true, like the ones he’d made in Tremont. He wished the moment could last forever.
“Aren’t you going to blow out your candle?” Tana asked.
Hank opened his eyes and blew; the candle winked out. Bethany cut a large slice of the cake down the center and handed him the first piece. He forked a cream-filled bite into his mouth. “Wait—is this a giant whoopie pie?”
Bethany giggled and nodded, and the girls squealed, and the entire room erupted into laughter.
Then there were slaps on his back and pasta and cake to eat and presents to open.
Angel presented him with a black rose, Paula and Mitch gave him a homemade jar of spaghetti sauce with a bag of pasta, and Rosie had knitted him a pair of socks she said she’d started after he’d saved Tia’s life.
Travis and Bethany presented him with a small, narrow wrapped box on behalf of everyone in the restaurant.
He raised an eyebrow at Bethany. “What’s this?”
She shook her head like a magician who refuses to reveal her secrets. “I’m not spoiling the surprise. Open it and find out.”
So he did.
Inside the box were two tickets to tomorrow’s Cleveland Guardians’ baseball game—club seats. Travis snatched the construction worker hat from Hank’s head and replaced it with a Guardians’ ball cap.
“I don’t know what to say.” And Hank did not. But he tried to express his feelings anyway. “I’ve never had a celebration as nice as this one. Thank you, everyone.”
“Can I have your autograph?” a shy girl with brown pigtails asked, holding up a napkin.
He smiled. “Sure thing.” He set the napkin on the table and signed it with a flourish.
Later, after he’d collected himself enough to give a small speech, and jokes were made and the last piece of cake was eaten and the guests were leaving, Hank cornered Bethany in the kitchen.
She was stooped over the dishwasher. He cleared his throat.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a better birthday celebration.
Thanks for all you did to make it special. ”
She stood. “I’m so glad, Hank. But it was nothing. You deserve it for all the work you’ve been doing around this old place.”
He pulled her into his arms. “It was more than nothing. You made me a special cake. You remembered how much I like baseball. You bought me two tickets—I assume you won’t make me go on my own?”
She eyed him like a detective bent on solving a case. “As friends?”
“Of course.” Hank held his breath.
She must have decided in his favor because she tipped her head to the side like a little bird, smiled, and batted her eyelashes. “Oh my. Are you inviting me to a baseball game, Hank Haverill?”
“I am,” he drawled. “Is that a yes?”
“I’d never pass up a game of baseball.”
And that, Hank thought, was the icing on an already fabulous supernatural whoopie pie cake.