Page 15 of Born to Make You Smile

That Sunday morning, Iwas at the Brinley residence, setting up for Charlotte's twelfth birthday party. I’d helped her plan the day, and she’d been meticulous about the details. The theme waspink lemonade, and the backyard burst with pops of pink and yellow. There were balloons, jars of lemons, pink tablecloths, and, of course, plenty of sweet pink lemonade. I’d made the themed birthday cake, lemon scones, as well as a Tuscan turkey sausage and spinach pasta bake. I also arranged for pizza to be delivered later on.

We had several stations set up—one for candy, another for jewelry making, and one for cookie decorating. Charlotte also made sure she had a craft table and games organized for the younger children. Mostly, it would be Charlotte’s friends from school and their siblings in attendance, as well as family—Gavin's parents, his brother and sister, and their children, atleast the younger ones and those available and in town from school.

Gavin strolled into the backyard with a wide smile, wearing a buttoned-up white polo shirt, hands in the pockets of his tan pants. His presence made my cheeks burn. I likely resembled a ripe red bell pepper from his garden.

“Wow,” he said, glancing around at the table setup. “This looks incredible. You outdid yourself.”

“I can't take all the credit. It was the brainchild of your daughter. She’s amazing. She had to make sure every detail was in place and that everyone was looked after.”

His gaze dragged down my body. “By the way, you look gorgeous. You fit right in with the decor.”

Running my hands over my hips, I awkwardly fixed the skirt of my breezy floral print yellow dress. “Thanks.”

With a hum, he looked up at the peach tree, then took hold of a small barren branch. “Pity there are no peaches this year.”

“I know.” I shrugged, arranging the candy bins on the table in front of me.

“That chilly winter got the best of us. Ahh well, it happens. Hope you aren’t too disappointed.”

I pushed out a smile. “There’s always next year.”

Truthfully, I was disappointed as I used the fruit in my cooking, mostly Austrian desserts my mother used to make. While the recipes called for apricots, my mom substituted peaches from the Brinley tree. The peaches were the right size and had a gentle tartness. Perfect for baking.

Gavin ran a hand over his neck. “Will your gentleman friend be joining us today?”

While Ethan and I had been on several dates so far, a birthday party with family and children seemed a touch too serious for the budding status of our relationship.

“No, he won't,” I answered.

“Shame.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “I could really see him getting into that craft table over there. Have the children glue tissue scraps all over him and turn him into a human piñata. Then watch him get smacked with a stick repeatedly.”

“Gavin!” I scolded playfully. “That’s terrible!”

“It's all in good fun,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “He's so buff and tall, he wouldn't even feel the whacking.”

I shook my head, but I couldn't help but smile at the absurd visual.

***

The festivities were almost over, and Charlotte sat on a lawn chair on the grass, opening her gifts. Her brown hair, sleek and straight, spilled long down her back, and as per the theme of her party, she wore a pink T-shirt and a ruffled yellow skirt. She already looked like a young woman, growing up way too fast before my eyes.

Finally, she got to my present. She loved Peanuts—Snoopy and Woodstock in particular, so I hope she appreciated my gift.

“Yes!” Charlotte cheered, flailing her hands as she opened the bag. She pulled out the items one at a time: a hoodie and Converse sneakers with Snoopy and Woodstock on them. I’d found them both at a secondhand vintage store downtown for a fraction of the price.

“These shoes are amazing! Thank you, thank you!” She turned her head to Gavin. “Dad! Come look what Grace got me!”

He walked closer and glanced at the shoes Charlotte held up, his brows raised. “Very nice.”

Then he leaned in and whispered to me, his breath making the hairs on my neck twitch. “Thank you, love.”

I nodded, trying to ignore the unwelcome flush of tingly warmth his nearness brought to my body.

Gavin’s girlfriend, Michelle, walked by with her son, Hunter. Over the weeks, I had gotten to know Michelle. She was thirty-nine, a market researcher, and had been divorced for two years. She was nice, polished, a little quiet but friendly. I really hoped her son had fun. He and I did some painting together, but he didn't want to play with the others and clung to his mother most of the day.

Michelle put her hand on Gavin’s arm. “We’re gonna get going. But I'll call you tomorrow.”

“All right. I'll walk you out,” he said.

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