“I have actual cupcakes for the adults to eat.” Emmie whisked out a tray.
My parents, tanned from their cruise, took pictures of their granddaughter while my sister wanted to know when her baby could open presents.
“I’m officially in my cool-aunt season,” Elizabeth declared.
Millie didn’t seem that interested in the presents, content to chase her friend around with the washcloth.
“You still salty Marius didn’t take over the practice?” my sister joked to my father.
“I am. To see my great-grandniece, I have to take a train all the way to New York City,” Aunt Frances declared.
“No, you don’t. We’re not even there that often,” I argued.
My dad snorted.
“What?” I asked, trying not to be testy.
“You weren’t going to take over my practice. I like having someone in this family who makes money. Pays for your aunt Frances.” He grinned at me and patted me on the back.
“Come. Make her open presents,” my sister begged me.
Millie was over in the cat food bowl, trying to eat the kibble.
Moose licked her face. He loved my daughter, but Princess, the white cat, was very much Millie’s cat.
The big Persian walked next to my daughter as she toddled around the yard, nudging her when she got off course.
My sister finally plopped down next to her niece and started to help her open the presents, with Grayson’s daughter also ripping at the fancy wrapping paper.
The first present…
“Why did you give her that?” I asked Elizabeth.
“What? It’s cute,” she said, holding up the cupcake stuffie with a two littleXs for the eyes. Grayson’s little girl grabbed at the stuffie with frosting fingers.
“We bought her books, dear. Don’t worry,” my mom said to me as my sister helped Millie unwrap what looked like a very noisy toy.
“Why don’t you unwrap one of mom’s presents?” I told my sister.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and handed Millie a flat package.
She promptly started chewing on it. Then, coaxed by Elizabeth, she was finally able to unwrap it.
“A murder-cupcake book?” I sighed.
“I made it myself!” My mom was giddy.
“Ooh!” Emmie had said we should sell those in the store.
“Murder Cupcake does pay the bills,” my dad joked.
It was a franchise now. Emmie did a brisk business during the holidays. The cupcake advent calendars were a popular item. Halloween was the second most profitable time.
“All she wants is the wrapping paper,” Elizabeth complained. “I should have just saved my money and wrapped an empty shoebox.”
“Scoot in for a photo,” my mom coaxed.
Emmie wrapped her arms around my waist.
