“It’s a Bennett tradition.”
Claire looked around.
Luke’s aunt stood near the refrigerator with her mouth slightly open.
His elderly grandmother Ruth looked uncomfortable.
Two cousins had stopped smiling.
No one seemed to know where to look.
Claire turned back toward Diane.
“She is five.”
“And?”
“And she told you she didn’t want anyone touching her cake.”
Diane rolled her eyes.
“She is a child.”
“Exactly.”
Claire grabbed a clean dish towel and wet it under the faucet.
Ellie was still crying.
Claire carefully cleaned her daughter’s face.
“You’re okay, sweetheart. Look at me.”
Ellie’s eyelids fluttered.
Claire wiped another patch of frosting from beneath her eye.
“Can you see?”
Ellie nodded.
“My cake.”
Claire’s chest tightened.
The beautiful pink cake was destroyed.
One side had collapsed.
Several candles lay sideways in the frosting.
There was an imprint where Ellie’s face had struck the top layer.
“We’ll get another one.”
“I wanted that one.”
“I know.”
Diane sighed loudly.
“Claire, please do not teach her to behave like a victim because somebody played a harmless birthday prank.”
Claire looked at her.
Something inside her went completely still.
“Do not speak to her.”
Diane blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“I said do not speak to my daughter right now.”
“You are in my house.”
“And that gives you permission to put your hands on her?”
“Oh, stop being dramatic.”
Claire stood.
Ellie clung to her waist.
Diane continued.
“Luke had this done at every birthday until he was ten.”
Claire stared at her.
“And you think that makes it normal?”
“He survived.”
“That is not the standard I use for parenting.”
Diane’s mouth tightened.
The atmosphere in the kitchen changed.
This was no longer an awkward disagreement everyone hoped would dissolve into laughter.
Claire knew that expression.
She had seen it whenever Diane discovered someone was not going to surrender simply because she expected them to.
“Mommy,” Ellie whispered.
Claire immediately looked down.
“I want to go home.”
That ended the discussion.
“Okay.”
Diane stared at them.
“What?”
Claire lifted Ellie into her arms.
Her daughter’s wet, frosting-streaked cheek pressed against her shoulder.
“We’re leaving.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“We’re leaving.”
“Guests are still arriving.”
“Then you can explain why the birthday girl isn’t here.”
Diane stepped around the island.
“You will not turn my granddaughter’s birthday into one of your performances.”