Cutler 04 - Midnight Whispers

too," I threatened.
    "All right." He finally smiled, seeing the determination in my face.
    When we re-entered, the band leader announced it was time for the birthday cake to be wheeled in. He asked everyone to return to his or her seat. The drum roll began again and then Leon rolled the cake down the center aisle. He and Mr. Nussbaum had baked an enormous white cake in the shape of a piano. All the keys were pink and there were sixteen candles on top.
    Mommy stepped up proudly beside the cake and smiled at me. Then the crowd of guests grew silent as Leon helped her light the candles.
    "Dawn," she called. I stepped up to the cake. The drummer began another long roll. I closed my eyes and fervently made my wish and then I blew with all my strength, putting out all sixteen candles.
    As soon as the candles were blown out, the band started to play "Happy Birthday to You," and Mommy began singing, all the guests and staff joining in with her. There were tears running down my cheeks, but even after the scene outside they were tears of great happiness. Everyone applauded. The balloons were released and the younger children, led by Jefferson, laughed and squealed as they rushed about trying to grab the dangling strings.
    "Happy birthday, honey," Mommy said, drawing me to her and kissing me.
    Before I could say thank you, Daddy was hugging me, too. Then came Aunt Trisha, Granddaddy Longchamp, Edwina, Aunt Bet, and finally Uncle Philip, who held on the longest and kissed me twice. I looked for Gavin, but he was well toward the rear, standing and smiling. I nodded at him, giving him a look that said, "You didn't get away with it, Gavin Longchamp." He understood and laughed.
    Pauline and my other school friends came up to congratulate me and then the waiters began to serve the cake. The tempo of the party slowed down as people had their dessert. Shortly after, our guests began to leave, all of them coming to the dais to say personal goodbyes and wish me a happy birthday one more time. No one but Gavin and I had witnessed the ugly scene between Daddy and Aunt Fern, so as far as everyone else was concerned, it had been a perfect evening.
    Even Grandmother Laura had enjoyed herself immensely and remained longer than I had anticipated she would. When Bronson had danced with me earlier, I had looked over and had seen Grandmother Laura smiling so softly, I could understand why she had been considered one of the prettiest women in Cutler's Cove. Beneath her heavy makeup lay the smile of a woman who thought herself a young girl again. Her eyes twinkled and her lips curved gently, lovingly.
    "She looks good," Bronson had said, when he caught the object of my gaze. "She's reliving her own Sweet Sixteen," he added with a note of melancholy.
    Now, he wheeled her off with the others after Mammy and I had kissed her good night. Mommy and I stood together and watched them go. She squeezed my hand and I saw her eyes well up with tears. Before either of us could utter a sad thought, however, we were inundated with well-wishers, including Aunt Bet, Richard and Melanie. Jefferson had, after all, behaved rather well and Richard had to tell us so. Of course, he took credit.
    "He knew he had to be a gentleman at my table," Richard bragged. With his stiff demeanor, his hoisted shoulders and habitually serious expression, he looked more like a little old man than a twelve-year-old boy. Melanie wasn't much different. She kissed me good night, but when she stepped back, I saw that her eyes shifted quickly to her father. Uncle Philip's gaze was locked on me instead of her.
    "Good night and once more Happy Birthday to the new princess of Cutler's Cove," he said, moving forward to embrace me and kiss me on the cheek.
    "I'm not a princess, Uncle Philip," I said. Some of my school friends who lingered behind were sure to tease me after hearing him pronounce my title.
    "Sure you are," he said. "Who else could be?" he added. I saw Melanie's eyes darken.
    "What about all the presents?" Jefferson asked. He had been circling the pile of gifts on the table all night, anxious to tear off the wrapping paper and discover something he could play with.
    "They will be brought to the house later," Mommy declared. "Go get your jacket."
    Disappointed, he rushed off. I searched the straggling crowd and found Gavin hovering near the doorway, talking to Ricky Smith and Warren Steine.
    "I'll be home in a little while, Mommy," I said. Perceptively, she looked toward