Elsa nodded knowingly. She hadn’t wanted to say it for Alyssa but was grateful she’d added it herself. It carried so much truth and united them together: the Remington, Potter, and Grimson girls, together till the end.
The icing house on Zachery’s cake came out better than Elsa could have ever imagined. She gaped at it, incredulous: at the beautiful pillars on the front porch and the Atlantic Ocean that rushed up along the beach and the surrounding woods, her heart surging.
Nancy gaped at it with disbelief. “You should go on that reality TV show about cake decorating.”
Elsa laughed. “No way.”
“She doesn’t want to be famous,” Alyssa teased. “It would go to her head, anyway.”
Elsa blushed, placed a cover over the cake, and added it to the back of the fridge to make sure it remained fresh for the party. At that moment, there was a knock on the door.Ah! Bruce. Just in time.
Bruce Holland, Elsa’s boyfriend from the previous year or so (since his assistance helping her with the extortion case against her husband), was just about the most handsome man Elsa had ever laid her eyes on. He stood in the doorway with a bouquet of flowers in his hands and a look of captivation playing out across his face.
“What’s that on your lip?” he asked instead of saying hello.
Elsa reached up to take a little piece of green icing from her bottom lip. “Oh, it’s just…”
But before she could tell him, he pressed his lips over hers, kissing her with reckless abandon, right there in the doorway of the house she’d grown up in. When he leaned back, his smile widened as he whispered, “Yum. Icing. The best part of the cake.”
Elsa laughed and smacked him playfully across the upper arm. “I just finished decorating the cake. Want to see?”
Bruce followed her into the kitchen, where Nancy cleaned Zach’s hands of peas, and Lucy finished her lunch, smacking her lips playfully. Elsa allowed Bruce just a moment’s peek beneath the cake protector, then snapped it closed, saying, “Tomorrow, you can see it for real.”
“Tomorrow! The big day.” Bruce turned and told Zach in mock seriousness, “You only turn two once in your life, Zachery. Remember to enjoy it.”
Alyssa laughed joyously as she took Lucy in her arms and headed out of the kitchen, muttering about “another diaper change.”
“Are you about ready to hit the road?” Bruce asked Elsa.
“Where are you three off to?” Nancy asked.
“My siblings and I planned a barbecue at my place,” Bruce explained. “Elsa and Zachery have begrudgingly agreed to come.”
“He’s really twisting my arm to go eat barbecue chicken and drink wine in the sun,” Elsa said, rolling her eyes. “You told everyone that Zach’s coming, right? It’s okay with them?”
“The more, the merrier,” Bruce told her. “Besides, he’s such a charmer. I should be the one to tell him not to come since he steals my thunder.”
“Goodness, I guess that means it’ll just be Alyssa, Lucy, and I in the house tonight!” Nancy said. “Hopefully, I can rope Alyssa into a movie night. Popcorn. Wine. A chick flick.”
“Sounds great, Grandma!” Alyssa called from the stairs.
Out front, Nancy waved as Elsa sat in the passenger seat of Bruce’s car. Zach babbled behind them, strapped in his car seat. Bruce explained that they just had to pick up a few things at the grocery store, including more coal for the barbecue. Elsa was reminded of long-ago days with Aiden when they’d had similar parties and had to run last-minute errands to make sure everything was ready.
By five that evening, Bruce’s sister and brother had both arrived with their spouses and were sitting around the bonfire out back at Bruce’s place, enjoying each other's light banter. Max played in an enclosed pen off to the side, away from the smoke of the fire. Bruce’s sister, Francine, was a textile artist with long flowing hair. Compared to Bruce, the criminal lawyer, she couldn’t have been more different. Their other brother, Rick, worked in marketing for a technology company.
“It makes me so happy to talk to a working artist,” Elsa told Francine as she warmed her hands over the fire. “My youngest daughter has been studying art at NYU. It’s a world I don’t understand, especially when it comes to building a career.”
Francine nodded. “My art is a little bit different, I suppose.”
“Why? Because it’s actually needed?” Elsa asked, immediately cursing herself for how dark she sounded.
“I suppose so. But to say that the world needs some art and doesn’t need other art? I think that, in and of itself, is inherently wrong. People have always found ways to express themselves, to experience their emotions and understand the world around them. Your daughter’s work is very important in its own right. Remember that.” Francine told her.
Elsa gazed at the fire, her stomach stirring with shame. “I hope you don’t think I don’t believe in my daughter’s art.”
“Of course not,” Francine assured her.
“Who wants hot dogs? Hamburgers? Chicken?” Bruce hollered out from the barbecue, slicing through the tension that Elsa, herself, had built.