“It was,” I confirm. “A cat is probably a better fit for her than a dog.”
“Let’s hope she doesn’t send it to an early grave as well,” Mom grumbles. “She was letting it lick butter off a plate when I got there this morning.”
“Rafe says cats are more likely to stop eating when they’re full.” I start putting ingredients on the counter while I wait for the fresh pot of coffee to brew.
“Fingers crossed,” she says, while greasing the cake pans she brought. “Kids off to school okay?”
“Yup. They both love their new teachers and are eager to go. It’s funny, I remember hating school at Sofie’s age. Nicky used to love school too.”
“You just had trouble sitting still,” Mom says, smiling wistfully. “You were always more interested in learning through exploration than from books.”
We work in silence for a while, surprisingly in sync as we put together the batter for Rafe’s favorite; Black Forest cake. When Mom slides the pans in the oven, I pour us a coffee.
“Dad still doing okay?” I ask when we sit down at the kitchen table while waiting for the cakes to bake.
“He is. I still can’t quite believe that since the last appointment this past week, he hardly has any tremor left. He certainly walks a lot steadier. According to him, his mind is less muddled too, although I suspect that may be wishful thinking. It’s not like his mind was ever that clear.”
I chuckle along with her, amazed and thrilled with the easy camaraderie we’ve developed. I never would’ve thought Mom and I could be like this. I still catch her observing when Rafe and I are in the room, but I figure she needs time to adjust to the idea of us together. We, in turn, try to be respectful in the way we interact. I’m sure it’ll take my parents a little longer to adjust than it did the kids.
“Did I hear him mention something about the Florida Keys the other day in the doctor’s office?”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Now that he’s doing better, he’s determined to drive the RV down right after Christmas and spend the winter down there.”
I smile at her. “So he’s not done traveling yet after all. Are you okay with that?”
“Considering his first choice was Alaska during that same time period, I’d say absolutely. I’d rather be roasting on a beach somewhere than get frostbite traipsing through the wilderness.”
The doorbell rings just as Mom pulls the pans from the oven, and I run to open the front door to the delivery guys.
After the kids left on the bus and Rafe drove off, Lisa helped me move the old couch out. Good thing both of us have decent upper body strength, because that thing was heavy. It’s out behind the garage for now, until we can haul it to the dump. Lisa ended up taking Lilo and Stitch over to the clinic for the day, so they wouldn’t be underfoot, and I pushed the other furniture out of the way to make room.
“Looks good,” Mom says, admiring the couch as I close the front door. “I’m sure Rafe will love it.”
I sit down, running my hands over the tan leather. “Come try it,” I encourage Mom, who sinks down beside me.
“Comfy.”
“Right?”
“It’s big,” she notes.
“I know. It’ll fit us all.”
I’m surprised when she blindly grabs my hand, her eyes staring off in the distance.
“With room to grow,” she says softly.
Mom and I have finished putting together some appetizers when I hear Rafe’s truck door slam shut. The kids are already opening the front door by the time I come out of the kitchen.
“Happy birthday, Daddy!” Spencer yells at his customary volume and latches himself onto one of Rafe’s long legs. Sofie takes up the other side with her arms wrapping around his hips.
“I already had my birthday, guys,” he corrects them, somewhat bemused. His eyes find me, before drifting over my shoulder into the living room, taking in the balloons and streamers the kids helped us put up after school.
“We got you a new couch,” Sofie shares and he glances down, stroking a hand over her hair.
“I see that, Pipsqueak.”
His eyes come back to me as he untangles himself from the kids and steps up to me, wrapping an arm around the small of my back, tugging me close.
“Happy birthday,” I barely get the words out, as his mouth is already closing over mine.
His kiss has my bare toes curl on the cool hardwood under my feet, and is barely appropriate in front of the kids. When he lifts his head I’m almost swaying on my feet. “Thank you, Sweets,” he mumbles, and I have to grab on to his shoulders for stability.
A soft chuckle belonging to my dad behind me slams me crudely back to earth.
Fuck—my parents. So much for being careful.
However, when I turn, Dad is wearing a grin, but it’s my Mom’s soft eyes that hit me.
Rafe
To say I was surprised when I walked in the door would be an understatement.
Not only had my birthday already passed, but I never really considered it a big deal, simply another year older.
I’ve certainly never had anyone go to this kind of trouble before. Of course, we’ve always made sure the kids’ birthdays were special, but adult birthdays were usually just marked with a card, a cake, and maybe a small gift. Taz definitely raised the bar this year.
I don’t doubt this is all her doing, and I’m moved at her efforts to make it special. What’s even better is she managed to involve everyone, including her mother.
I’d been even more surprised when Meredith and Andrew, Brent and Kathleen with the kids, and even Lisa and her partner, Beth, showed up fifteen minutes later.
Dinner had been served buffet style, with bodies all over the house and yard. All to the great delight of Lilo and Stitch, who were in constant motion looking for attention or spilled food.
“What’s this I hear from Kathleen, you’re thinking of renovating the upstairs?” Brent asks, when we’re having coffee and cake.
I wince when I see Ed’s head snap up. Shit. I haven’t had a chance to inform my in-laws of my plans yet. It was their house for decades before I bought it, and I would’ve liked to have broached the subject with a little more care.
“Thinking about it,” I confirm. “Just playing around with the layout.”
“Got something to show us?” Ed pipes up, and I scrutinize him for any disapproval, but all I see is curiosity.
“I’ll grab the sketch,” Taz says from behind me, putting her cool hand to my neck.
I showed her my new plans a few days ago. I turn to watch her walk from the kitchen and catch Sarah’s eyes, who’s standing by the sink and clearly overheard the exchange. She seems to catch herself and busies herself refilling coffee cups.
A few minutes later, all of us are bent over the rough drawings Taz put in the middle of the dining table.
“Of course I’ll get an architect to see if this is even feasible and do up a proper plan,” I offer apologetically, “but this is the gist of it.”
“I like it,” Brent announces, looking at the original layout versus the proposed one. “It’s a more economic use of space. Other than the plumbing that needs to be relayed—which is a good-sized job—it’s a matter of relocating walls and doors to end up with the same number of bedrooms but an additional bathroom.”