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“You said nine,” I remind her. “It’s already nine fifteen.”
“Yeah, well, all that yoga isn’t going to do itself,” she yawns as we head back toward the house. “What are you worried about, anyway? Everything is fine.”
“You said nine,” I repeat.
“Sure did,” she shrugs. “Oh, shit… Can we go back? I left my purse at the cabin.”
I don’t even answer her. I wonder if she did that on purpose. She knows that she made me late, and that I hate to be late, and that the stupid bouncy house is supposed to be delivered at nine thirty.
We pull into the driveway right behind the delivery guy, who gives me a polite salute when he swings down from the cab of the semi. Eyebrows raised, he glances around the front lawns, taking it all in.
“Looks like quite a party,” he observes, then clams up when he sees my expression.
“Only the best for the little prince,” Didi smiles at him as she exits the truck.
He smiles at her automatically, then seems to pause and squint. Distractedly taking the clipboard back from me, he strolls over to her.
“Little prince?” he repeats. “Birthday party for your son?”
Didi smiles shyly and tucks her hair behind her ear, flirting shamelessly. She looks fit and tan, with a natural glow to her skin. After all that yoga and clean living, I guess she has reached peak Didi experience. She’s kind of gorgeous.
“Oh, not my son,” she answers. “The new doctor in town, in about twenty-five years. Just as soon as he grows up.”
“Grows up, that’s a good one,” the driver smiles.
“So are you set up? You are ready to go?” I call out, trying to redirect their attention to the task at hand.
What is it with people? Am I the only person in town who takes this birthday party seriously?
“Why don’t you let me take care of this,” Didi suggests, shrugging. “I’ll make sure the tent gets set up, okay? Next to the petting zoo? And the carousel?”
“Well… uf you are sure…” I mutter, but they are already back to gazing at each other. “Didi? You got this?”
She waves a hand in my direction, pushing me away like a professional mime.
“Totally under control!”
Fine, whatever. I turn around and start walking quickly up the driveway, looking left and right to check out that everything is more or less where it should be. No one is arriving until one, but it takes a long time to set these things up. Sturgill insisted we invite the entire town, so it has turned into a bit of a carnival. We made a list of all the things that we could put into Jackson’s third birthday party, in his wildest dreams... then did everything on the list.
It might be a little much.
But, like everything else about marriage and motherhood, I am expecting this to turn out better than expected.
It might’ve been insanity that made me say yes to Sturgill in the first place, but it’s been like walking through a dream ever since. As soon as he said “marry me” I felt a circle close in on itself. Leaving Willowdale was necessary, and I still believe that, but coming back home was inevitable. And coming back home to find that’s where I had left my heart all along was miraculous.
Sturgill doesn’t fully appreciate it when I use words like miraculous, but that’s just too bad.
As I walk through the front door into the grand foyer, Preston—Press—comes tearing across the gleaming wooden floors, his arms flung out jubilantly. I lean down to catch him, sweeping him up as he giggles and kicks his chubby little legs. He started walking right at a year old, so he has had a lot of practice. And I have had a lot of practice chasing him. Sturdy and resilient, he is the manifestation of the joy in my life. He is the embodiment of the best things that there are.
“Press!” Harriet calls after him, appearing at the other end of the hall.
Churning her arms, she trundles forward, breathless and red-faced.
“I’ve got him, Harriet,” I smile as he wriggles and tries to escape.
“Oh, I need to get him dressed!” she huffs. “I told Sturgill that he could take Press for his first pony ride before anybody gets here. I don’t want him to be disappointed.”
Gazing down into Press’s angelic face, I try to imagine what he’s going to think of the ponies. He loves animals, and I know he’s going to be dazzled by the big, shaggy ponies and their flamboyant saddles.
