Page 36 of Cash

Crap. I had a week to learn how to bake a cake.

I used to shoot bad guys for a living; one would think something as simple as baking wouldn’t send me into a spiral of despair.

Yet here we are.

The infamous Lore fretting over some flour and sugar.

Sugar.

I was allowing Cara to eat way too much sugar.

“I have an idea,” I started. “I’ll make cupcakes for you to take to school to share with your friends and we’ll have the cake for our celebration.”

Cara stopped and tipped her head back to stare up at me. “Why would I give my friends a cupcake on my birthday? It’s not their birthday. Shouldn’t they all be bringing me a cupcake?”

Um.

Shit.

I quickly scrolled through my limited arsenal of parenting comebacks and found I didn’t have an answer that would not scar her or make her emotionally unavailable or screw her up in general.

Think fast!

“Because it’s a nice thing to do. And that way everyone can have a cupcake to help you celebrate.”

There.

That wasn’t great but it wasn’t horrible.

“Do I have to be nice? I love cupcakes and you’re making special birthday cupcakes. I think because it’s my birthday, I shouldn’t have to be nice and share.”

I actually agreed with her, but I was a scarred, emotionally unavailable, cold-hearted bitch so of course I wanted to hoard all the cupcakes.

“Yes, sweet pea, you have to be nice.”

I couldn’t be sure but it sure did look like she was trying to come up with a new and valid argument to get all the cupcakes. But before she could fully work through the problem Mr. Stevens came out of his house with a smile.

“Harper. Cara. How are you two lovely ladies doing this afternoon?” he politely asked.

“My birthday’s next week, Mr. Stevens,” Cara told him and I had to physically restrain myself from scooping her up and running back to the house so I could issue another safety lesson about giving out too much personal information.

“Well hot diggity dog!” Mr. Stevens exclaimed with more exuberance than necessary. “A birthday. That’s exciting. Is Lolo making you a cake?”

Cara beamed a wide smile that was so sweet and dazzling I vowed to spend the next week learning how to be the best cake baker in Maryland.

“And cupcakes, but I have to share those with my class because Lolo says I have to be nice.”

Mr. Stevens being approximately a hundred years old—okay, that’s a slight over-exaggeration but the man was getting up there in age—and having children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren didn’t miss the dejection in Cara’s tone.

“Never did understand why I had to share treats on my birthday,” he returned. “But your Lolo’s right, it’s the nice thing to do.” Cara’s ‘I told you so’ eyes slid to me before they went back to our neighbor. “Amy and Rocco will be here this weekend. I bet I can talk Mrs. Stevens into making an early batch of cupcakes for you.”

No. No. No. I didn’t need to be shown up by an old woman who could bake cupcakes better than I could a week before I wanted to give something special to Cara.

“Yay! I love Rocco.”

Mr. Stevens smiled. I cringed.

Rocco was Mr. Stevens’ eight-year-old grandson and the kid had way too much charm for a child. Cara had a crush, a big one. But she also adored Amy who was sweet and shy. Mrs. Stevens just loved all the neighborhood kids and spoiled them.