Page 88 of Flake It Til You Make It

The birthday girl herself would be here any minute. She’d been thrilled when Taylor had stopped by her place and invited her for coffee. He hadn’t let on that he knew it was her birthday, hoping to preserve the surprise.

“Well, at least a quarter of these people are your family,” Taylor teased.

Rocco laughed. “True. But I had a number of people tell me they weren’t invited by me or you or eventhem, but the Secret Santa? He sent invitations out.”

“Do we even know if it’s ahe?” Taylor wondered.

“I don’t think we knowanything,” Rocco said. “And you’d be in more of a position to know than me.”

“If I know something,youknow something,” he said, nudging him.

Rocco had piled plates of cookies and scones on either side of the birthday cake he’d asked Joel McArthur to bake. Rebecca was manning the espresso machine, and they had a big bowl of punch, Nicoletta Moretti manning the drinks table, as well as two dispensers of hot chocolate and hot cider.

“She’s coming!” someone hissed. It might have been Enzo, or maybe Joel.

The crowd switched their expectant gaze to the door.

A minute later, it opened, framing Marjorie, her hair in riotous gray curls in a halo around her head and a bright red scarf wrapped around her neck.

“Surprise!” the crowd exclaimed.

She looked floored and thrilled and a little overwhelmed.

“What is this?” she said, exhaling sharply.

Taylor and Rocco walked over to her, gently guiding her to the table of honor where Rebecca had decorated one of the chairs with brightly colored streamers. “We heard it was your birthday,” Rocco said. “And we thought you might want to celebrate it properly.”

“I . . .yes,” she said, her eyes glimmering with tears. “How did you know?”

“A little bird told us. But you can thank the Secret Santa for making sure your party was so well-attended,” Rocco said. “He sent out a bunch of invites, and everyone came.”

“Probably wondering ifyou’rethe Secret Santa,” Taylor said with a knowing grin.

Marjorie’s smile was wide, even as a tear wound down her cheek. “Goodness, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. But this is . . .this is special. Thank you two. I’m all atwitter.”

“How about I get you some punch?” Rocco said. “And a piece of cake?”

“I made your favorite. Pumpkin spice with cream cheese frosting,” Joel said. “But before I cut it, we’ll have to sing. It’s tradition.”

Marjorie glowed. “I don’t know,” she demurred. “Aren’t I a little old for a birthday song?”

“Never,” Taylor said, reaching out and taking her hand, squeezing it.

It felt like the rafters of Jolly Java shook a little with the sound of the crowd singing Marjorie happy birthday, and if Rocco was being honest, his heart trembled, too.

Joel cut the cake, and after Rocco helped distribute it, Luca cornered him.

“This was a special thing to do,” he observed quietly. “And a pretty special community to come together to do it with.”

“You’d know, you’re part of a pretty special community yourself,” Rocco said as he picked up empty coffee cups and piled them in a bin.

Marjorie was holding court at her table, surrounded by Marlene, Mrs. Lil, and not surprisingly, Murphy Clark.

He’d brought her a present of her very own wooden gnome. And since Murphy’s waiting list for his custom carved gnomes was about three years at this point, it was even more special.

“Indigo Bayisspecial,” Luca agreed, referring to the small coastal Carolina town he and Oliver had settled in. “And your parents’ restaurant in San Francisco is special. Nonna’s, in Napa, is special. The food truck fleet Gabe and Ren have in LA is special. There’s so many special places you could have found a place in, and for awhile, I thought you’d made a mistake, not picking one of those and carving out your own place in one of them.”

Rocco knew his cousin had felt that way. Just as he’d known he’dhadto make his own.

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