Page 38 of The Christmas Mittens
“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’snormal 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, thatisgross.” 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.
Chapter Sixteen
Wednesday, December 23
As I toted the last platter of crispy rice and marshmallow treats into the fire hall, the sound system fired up, scaring me so badly I nearly fumbled over a hundred sticky squares to the floor.
I shot a tired look at Arne at the DJ table and got a wince. “Sorry,” he shouted across the rapidly filling space. Both bay doors and the walls were festooned with pink and blue streamers left over from a baby shower last week. When you were strapped for time, you used what was lying around and since Bert had given us clearance to use whatever we found, we took him at his word. Bert felt as bad about the mix-up as Chloe and had been here since the morning with her assisting in any way they could. I’d felt a pang of pride when I saw Gilda and Chloe hugging after we’d arrived around eleven. The morning had been hectic, to say the least. Thankfully, we had Anders around for extra hands. He’d made pans and pans of crispy rice cereal bars while Gilda and I worked on the cake.
Not to be too prideful, but it was one magnificent cake. Four—yes four—layers of rich vanilla cake with sky blue icing between each thin cake. Then, the pièce de résistance, the blue fishes Gilda had drawn on with blue icing from a tube. More like several little tubes, but hey, blue cake with blue fish. Hoon would be tickled if he even knew it existed.
Now, it was just the final touches before the guests showed up in twenty minutes. Food kept pouring in. The Woolverines had gotten wind of the situation, and now there were crockpots sitting on the long folding tables along the wall that rested against the garage where the fire engines gleamed in their bays. Macaroni and cheese, meatballs, pulled pork, and some hot Buffalo chicken dip from Meredith so you knew it would singe your eyelashes. Bags of chips, buns, and condiments, along with napkins, paper plates, disposable cups, and flatware, were placed with the food. One smaller table held all kinds of baked goods, from Anders’ crispy rice cereal bars to peanut butter no-bakes to a huge dish of brownies that encircled the birthday cake sitting on Katie’s raised cake dish.
Della was still at my house. She was sleeping off the aftereffects of scarfing down a baggie of dog cookies that had hit the floor in the chaos of all the baking and marshmallow treat construction. Thankfully, she had only torn open the bag and not swallowed any of the plastic, but she had made fast work of those little cookies. I’m not even sure she chewed. Also, she would have been cold down on the cement floor and under people’s feet so napping on our sofa as she digested the ten treats she had inhaled before Anders had swept her up seemed a good place for an excitable dog with a full tummy.
“I love this song!” Gilda and Kimmie, the lone teen at the party other than the birthday girl, squealed aloud. My head started bopping as “Dynamite” by BTS, another K-pop band she listens to, flowed from the speakers in the corners. I liked it a lot too.As did Anders, it seemed, since he started singing along while delivering a crockpot of scalloped potatoes courtesy of Franny, who was making her way into the fire hall. I smiled at his enjoyment of the tune and then moved around the table to make way for him. The boughs of the huge fir tree, covered with lights and candy canes, brushed my backside.
“You do enjoy K-pop, huh?” I asked and got a bob of dark curls. He placed the pot down, turned to me, and gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the lips.
“I’m so enjoying this. Being here with you and Gilda and with new friends who don’t mind that I’m some foreigner with a funny accent,” he confided so I kissed him back just because I wanted to. “Back home, this would be impossible.”
“I’m glad you found your way to Grouse Falls where we happily accept all funny foreigners.” He chuckled softly. A cold gust announced more guests. Pastor Pete and Nigel hustled in, looking cold and windblown, carrying an orange bundt cake.
“We’re late. We’re sorry. The cake was taking forever to cool. I finally had to stand outside with it so it would chill enough for the glaze,” Nigel informed us while Pete did a pretty good impression of his partner outside in the cold while holding up a cake like it was an offering to a cake god. We all chuckled. Though it was not the party that Gilda and I had planned for, it was looking to be a nice gathering. I wished more of her friends could be here for her, but she would record things and send them to them. There was certainly enough food to feed a carload of young people! It was touching how many had heard about the flub and showed up with food and love for my daughter. Small towns had lots of problems, but they also had lots of good things going for them.
