“My birthday isn’t until Tuesday.”
“Open the damn present,” she said, a mischievous grin plastered on her face. Gavin wandered into the kitchen with a stack of mail.
“Something came for you, Cricket,” he said, handing me a fat manila envelope with my name and the inn’s address written in my father’s familiar chicken scrawl.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Gavin, did you know that it’s Cricket’s birthday next week?” Liz said. “She’s going to be eighteen years old.”
“Is that so?” Gavin said. “I’ll have to make a cake. Chocolate with a raspberry filling okay?”
“Yum. Thanks, Gavin,” I said as I worked at the knot of lace that was binding my gift. Gavin turned on the teakettle and sorted through his bills, not knowing how relieved I was that I was going to have a birthday cake—a chocolate one, with raspberry filling! I needed something to replace the tradition Jules and I had started five years ago.
Ever since Jules came to Rosewood, we did pajama birthdays. On our birthdays, Jules and I always brought each other waffles with strawberries and whipped cream in bed. And the breakfast tray was always adorned with Lulu, a stuffed pig we’d bought when Nina took us to FAO Schwarz in New York.
We were way past the age of stuffed animals, and neither of us was a stuffed animal kind of girl, but we both loved this pig. There was only one left in the store, and we’d fought over who would get to buy her, or “adopt” her, as Jules insisted. Nina suggested we split the cost and have joint custody. So every birthday we traded her back and forth. Whoever had Lulu in her possession had to take care of her and give the other “mother” monthly reports on her well-being. Lulu has thrived this spring, Jules had written in one note. She continues to be fuzzy and friendly and has developed a passion for Bruce Springsteen.
Lulu has experienced her first crush, I wrote to Jules the next year. On a stuffed giraffe in our attic. He’s a little old for her, I think, but these sorts of urges are natural in a young pig.
The teakettle whistled. Gavin poured the water and dunked the teabag.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Liz said, using kitchen sheers to cut the ribbon.
“I love watching people receive gifts,” Gavin said as he blew on his tea. It was some weird medicinal tea, and its bitter aroma filled the room. “Go on, open it.”
Very slowly, I unwrapped the tissue paper, which smelled faintly like perfume, and lifted up a delicate, minuscule black lace thong.
I crumpled it in my hand, hiding it from Gavin. Liz squealed with glee.
“You set me up, Liz,” Gavin said, shielding his eyes and walking back into the living room. “That’s not nice.”
“Didn’t want to rob an old man of a thrill,” she said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.
“Liz!” My face was burning up. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Do I have to explain?” she asked, cackling. “Don’t act like such an innocent. We share a wall. A very thin wall. I know what you’re up to at night, and I can’t stand the thought of you shagging in your cotton knickers.”
“How do you know I wear cotton underwear?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, what do you wear, then?” Liz asked. I stared at the table. The only underwear I owned were cotton. Mrs. Levander told us other materials led to yeast infections. “Just as I thought. Well, not anymore. Cotton knickers are for little girls, and you, my dear, are about to become a woman.”
Thirty-three
ZACK AND I WERE AT THE BEACH when I finally opened the manila envelope from Dad. I couldn’t wait until next week, but there was something about opening a birthday present alone that was just sad. Half the fun is someone watching.
“Let’s see what you got,” Zack said. Inside was a birthday card with a sparkly fairy on it, something more appropriate for an eight-year-old. But I didn’t mind that. Dad still thought I loved girlie-girl stuff, and I smiled thinking of him searching the card aisle in CVS for something he thought was glittery enough for me. It was signed Dad and Polly, each in their own handwriting. There was also a note that said Alexi was having a sixth birthday party at their house, and if I wanted to come home for the party, they’d pay my way.
“‘Alexi wants to spend more time with his new big sister,’” I read aloud to Zack. “Yeah right.