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“Okay, then. See you later.”
Annie could feel Helen watching her leave.
* * *
Annie opened the window and sipped at her mug of coffee. She’d bought a coffee maker a few weeks back. Although Helen was happy to share what she made, Annie preferred her coffee to be as dark as mud. She’d picked up three unmatched mugs at the thrift store too. One, dark blue, advertised the mission trip of a local church. Another one was yellow with a pink daisy painted on the side, the handle painted to look like the stem. The one she was drinking out of now was green and large enough to hold a carafe. Plus, it had a picture of a tired-looking Tinkerbell. Annie related to the small, blonde, sassy pixie, even ifPeter Panwas not her favorite Disney movie.
Ashley was carefully making her way toward the garage, barefoot and still in her pink nightgown. She held something tightly in her arms.
“Morning,” Annie called out, surprised to see her, and even more surprised that Ashley was headed her way. She stopped a few steps from the open door.
“Hi,” Ashley said shyly. She looked back at the house and then to Annie again. “Do you want to see my party dress?”
“I do,” Annie said. “Is that it?”
Ashley unfurled the fabric in her arms and shook it out. The dress had long sleeves and a lacy white collar. The fabric of the body was red velvet, nearly the color of blood.
“Isn’t that pretty?” Annie said. “I love it.”
“Me too. Are you staying for my party?”
“Yes, ma’am. Is your birthday actually today?”
“Tomorrow,” Ashley said. “But Mommy said Saturday is better for a party.”
“She’s right. Your mom is very smart.”
“Mommy said the family is excited to meet you.”
Annie raised her eyebrows. “Did she? Who all is coming?”
“My aunt Sal. Uncle Colin, Mommy’s brother. My cousins, Stacey and Gina. And Grandpa Peter.” She considered for a moment. “And Daddy. Maybe.”
“How about your friends from school?”
“My ballet friend Annalisa is coming.”
“Ballet friends are good,” Annie said gently.
“Mommy said there’s waffles. That’s why I came out here.”
“And to show me your dress.”
Annie stepped inside to pull on a sweater, then closed the door behind her to walk with Ashley to the house, coffee still in hand.
“How do you get your hair so curly?” Ashley asked.
“Just how God made me,” Annie said. “When I was little like you, all I wanted was straight hair.”
“Mine only gets curly if I sleep in braids, but then it’s just a little bit, not like yours,” Ashley said. “Yours is real. You can put your finger inside the curl.”
Annie laughed as she opened the back door. “You could always sleep in curlers. That might work.”
“Curlers hurt my head!”
“Beauty and pain go hand in hand. Don’t they teach you that in ballet?” Annie teased.
“Morning,” Helen said, interrupting their conversation. “Ash, go put that dress in your room. If you get syrup on it, you can’t wear it.”
