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“Who the hell is that?” Katie says.
We’re both resting back against the table, surveying the damage in progress in the flower beds. I follow her gaze to where Summer and Jack are talking, drinking beers straight from the bottle, Summer picking a leaf out of his hair.
“Summer, I told you about her.”
“Summer…your protégée?”
“Yes. My protégée, if you must. She doesn’t need protection, though. Not from me.”
She shoots me a look, a very Katie look with one eyebrow raised. “She’s very relaxed around Jack.”
In her ear, I whisper. “It’s not how it looks. She’s helping me out.”
“Helping you how?”
“It’s because of Bronwyn.” I tilt my head toward her, and she does the same, so our temples are almost touching. “You know how Bronwyn always says Jack was unfaithful to her?”
“Sort of.”
“Okay, well, she did, and lately her and him…they spend so much time together…”
“Who?”
“Bronwyn and Jack.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Like,spendingtime together?”
“Yes, exactly like that. Anyway, Summer is a new friend of mine, and I thought if Bronwyn sees them together like this, she’ll back off. So this is a strategy, you see? It’s a pre-emptive strike. Maybe not pre-emptive now that I think of it, but it’s a strike. A fatal blow to the possibilities. Because Bronwyn would hate that.” I tug at Katie’s sleeve and tilt my head toward Bronwyn to make my point, as inwait till you see her face!But unlike yesterday, Bronwyn doesn’t seem to notice the scene playing out in front of her, or care, or if she does, she hides it well. Maybe she’s given up. Maybe she’s realized it’s a hopeless cause, and she’s moved on. She wouldn’t be heartbroken about it since obviously she doesn’t have one.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Katie says.
“Nope, no idea. Help me with the cake?”
We slip in the kitchen and get out the frozen ice cream cake which I turn over and pop out onto a plate, cover with sprinkles, and I’m about to stick sparkler candles into it when the children erupt into a loudHappy Birthday!
I turn to Katie. “What?” We both rush to the window and when I see it, I am not as surprised as I should be. In fact, I wonder why I didn’t anticipate it.
In the garden are two waiters pushing a trolley with an enormous, multi-tiered cake, and if it wasn’t for the candle in the shape of an eight crowning the whole edifice, you’d think this was a wedding cake for a party of five hundred.
Hip hip hip hooray!
I slide the ice cream cake into the trash and throw the plate into the sink where it breaks into shards.
Outside, one of the waiters—Where did they come from?—is taking photos of Jack and Bronwyn and Charlie, with Bronwyn holding the knife to cut the cake. For once I’m glad I’m not included. I don’t think I could resist snatching that knife from her cold fingers and driving it right into her heart. If I could find it.
“Wow. That’s a heck of a cake,” Katie whispers, her arm around my shoulders.
I sigh. “Well, if we’re doing surprises, then we should get her bike.” I go straight to Jack. “Can you get the bike?”
Jack tears himself away from the little group and Bronwyn raises one arm toward me. “Laura! Sweetheart, come and get some cake!”
“That’s okay, thanks,” I mutter.
“Oh but you must! It’s fabulous! Come and take a photo with me!”
