The wind from the west kept lifting the corners of the paper napkins, revealing the deep water stain on the cedar table I had spent three hours scrubbing the night before. Gloria adjusted her lace handkerchief against her collar, her eyes scanning the backyard before she frowned at the tray of ham sandwiches.
“They look dry, Marla,” she said, her voice dropping into that soft, warning drawl she used when neighbors were within earshot. “A forty-two dollar sheet cake is one thing, but people expect a moist crust on the bread. We cannot have the neighbors thinking we do not know how to host a simple birthday.”
I smoothed a blue napkin under a heavy glass paperweight, my fingers lingering on the cold glass. Adjusting my gold wedding band, I looked toward the side yard where the empty folding chairs stood in a neat semicircle near the garden beds.
“The bakery promised they were made this morning,” I said, keeping my words short.
“Well, promises do not keep the bread from turning to cardboard in the breeze,” Gloria said, patting her chest with her lace handkerchief. “And where is Ellie? The party started fifteen minutes ago, and she is usually the first one through the gate. She has always been like a second daughter to this family, but lately she seems so distracted.”
I looked at my watch, the hands pointing exactly to three o’clock, the metal casing warm from the sun. Ellie was my oldest friend, the one who had helped me pick out the yellow laminate for my kitchen counters, and she was never late for family milestones.
“She had a client meeting in Westlake,” I said, though I knew Ellie rarely worked on Saturdays. “She has been taking on more freelance design work lately to cover her studio rent.”
“On a hot Saturday in July?” Gloria raised her eyebrows, her gaze drifting toward the driveway. “Your husband has been working weekends too, from what I hear. It seems everyone is very busy with their accounts these days.”
“He has a backlog of commercial mowing contracts,” I said, the words feeling thin in my mouth.
