Chapter 14 - What Brook Said at the Cake Table
The backyard had gone too quiet for a birthday party. The bounce house blower kept humming behind us, and somebody's plastic fork scraped a paper plate and stopped. Maya stood a little behind her mom now, her hands twisted in the hem of that pink dress, looking at the grass like she wanted it to cover her. Brook hadn't moved. She kept staring at the table where the cake leaned, one tier slid sideways, pastel frosting smeared across the white cloth.
I felt Emma's fingers tighten around mine. She hadn't said anything since Maya spoke. She was watching Brook the way she'd watched her that afternoon when Brook said she'd ruined everything.
I didn't want to make a speech. I just turned enough so Brook had to look at me, and then at Emma.
"Tell her," I said. "Not me. Tell Emma what you just learned."
Brook blinked. "Daniel—"
"She's right here," I said. I kept my voice low. I could feel Sophie hovering near the chair by the cake table, watching her aunt. The two older men hadn't left their spot by the fence. "She needs to hear it from you."
Brook's mouth opened, then closed. She glanced toward the other adults, and I could see it cross her face — that quick calculation of what it would cost to say it out loud with everyone listening. Her cheeks went red under the sun. She shifted her weight in the grass, crossed her arms, then uncrossed them.
"I was trying to protect Sophie's day," she said, still to me.
"I know," I said. "Tell her."
For a second I thought she wouldn't do it. She looked at the ruined frosting, at Sophie, at Maya's mom. Then she let out a breath and bent down. Her knees pressed into the grass. She was suddenly eye level with Emma, coral top bright against all that green, white pants picking up damp.
It changed something in Emma. She pressed closer to my leg but she didn't look away.
Brook's voice came out thinner down there. "Emma," she said. She paused and swallowed. "Hey. Look at me for a sec, okay?"
Emma nodded, just barely.
"I didn't see you touch the cake," Brook said. The words came slow, like each one hurt. "I said you did. I blamed you because you were closest, and I was mad for Sophie. That wasn't right. You didn't do it."
Emma's grip on my hand loosened a little. She stared at Brook, checking her face.
"You mean I don't have to say sorry?" she whispered.
Brook shook her head. Her eyes were wet now. "No, honey. You don't. I'm the one who should say sorry. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm sorry I didn't listen."
Nobody moved. The tree shadows had stretched farther across the yard. A pink balloon by the table bobbed and tapped the cloth.
Then Sophie stepped forward. She'd been so quiet I'd almost forgotten how small she was in her birthday shirt, frosting still on her sleeve from earlier. She looked at her aunt kneeling in the grass, then at Emma.
She didn't ask permission. She just walked over and wrapped both arms around Emma's shoulders, hard enough that Emma stumbled a step into me.
"You can still cut the cake with me," Sophie said into Emma's ponytail. "The bottom's still good. Mom said we can cut the good side."
Emma looked up at me, uncertain. I nodded.
"Go on," I said quietly.
May you like
Brook stood up as the girls moved to the table. She brushed grass off her knees, her hands not quite steady. She didn't look at the adults. She looked at the back of Sophie's head, and then at Emma standing beside her, both of them staring at what was left of those pastel tiers.
Sophie picked up the plastic server with both hands. She held it out to Emma. Together they pressed it into the clean edge of the bottom layer, frosting folding over. Someone behind us laughed softly, relieved, and a chair scraped. The party started breathing again.
