Page 109 of Royally Benevolent

“Ah, okay, this is nice,” Mom said. “Look at that.”

She stepped back from her towering cake of perfection. Odette bought Mom a sugar sculpture of a dinosaur and a bird to use as a topper. They looked great.

“It’s lovely,” Odette cooed. “You did such a fab job.”

I know Odette wanted the pastry chef at the palace to make the cake, but Momalwaysmade our cakes—a tradition passed down to Theo. The minute she’d offered, Odette backed off. She knew which battles to pick. She never overstepped. Her graciousness was beyond her years.

“Okay, so do we have all we need?” Ingrid returned. “The falconer is ready.”

“Let’s do the cake, and then he can come on through,” Mom said.

“I can cue him once they get seated,” Ingrid offered. “He is actually kind of cute.”

Ah, to be twenty-one again!

Odette rolled her eyes. In terse French, she said, “Focus on the children.”

We packed the cake off, Odette startingBon Anniversairelike a goddamn angel. I first bristled at her beautiful voice when I heard her in the shower. It reminded me of Isla’s comforting pipes, but I could appreciate it now when she sang a song to Theo. It brought her joy. In turn, it broughtusjoy.

The children stared in amazement as Mom put the cake down. The adults tried to get them to sing along. They took their seats around the table as Theo blew out his candles. Everyone clapped and cooed over Mom’s handiwork—unable to believe she wasn’t a professional baker.

“The cake is just so good. You all were fortunate,” Odette said.

“I know,” I agreed. “For many reasons.”

It choked me up. I had a five-year-old, and this summer marked four years without Isla. But here he was with his friends, thriving.

I leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I need just a minute. If you can handle the falconer.”

She squeezed my hand. “Of course. Take your time. I get it. I’ll take a million pictures so you don’t miss anything.”

I escaped into the house, returning to a picture of Isla in whatOdette called “The Drawing Room,” which hung on a wall near the window. It was taken soon after Theo was born. She held him and looked down on his face so lovingly. Somehow, nothing had changed since that moment.

“You okay, sweetie?” Mom asked.

I turned to her in the doorway.

“I just needed a second.”

“Okay. This day is always so hard—the hardest, I know,” Mom said.

“I wish it got easier.”

“It has. Wy, you have handled it with much more joy every year. I know this year, the day you lost her, was hard, but this was so wonderful for Theo. I know it took courage to go through with it.”

“I feel terrible about that.”

“He is making core memories if you’d believe what Ingrid says,” Mom assured. “Sweetheart, he’s happy. That’s a testament to you. And, if allowed, I should point out Odette’s patience and willingness to take this whole thing on.”

“She’s amazing. She’s been so good to him. And us.”

“She loves Theo, but she’s been worried aboutyouall day. Theo having fun was a given. Kids are easy. She was worried about you. And you’re doing a great job.”

I looked back at the photo. “I miss her so much. She would have loved to plan every party with you.”

“I know. But sweetheart, she would love that Theo got this party and that so many people care about him.”

“I still feel guilty.”

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