Chapter 12: The Birthday

Trevor's mother lived in a brick colonial in Squirrel Hill with a flagpole and a wreath on the door.

Forty guests stood on her lawn under a white tent, drinking champagne at two in the afternoon.

"Sixty looks wonderful on her," a woman said as we walked past.

Cade squeezed my fingers.

I wore Jo's green dress again, and he wore a dark jacket he had bought for a funeral.

We hadn't planned a single word.

We had planned to stand next to each other and let Trevor do the rest.

He was by the bar in a navy blazer, glass in hand, already flushed.

Candice stood three feet from him in a white dress, not touching him, with her arms crossed.

She looked at me once and looked away.

"There she is," Trevor's mother said.

She came across the lawn with her arms open, a trim woman with silver hair and pearls, and kissed the air beside my cheeks.

"You poor darling. You look so well. And this is Cade." She gave him a long look. "I hear you've been so helpful."

"Happy birthday," Cade said.

"Thank you, dear," she said gaily. "Go and have a drink, both of you."

We went.

For an hour I smiled and shook hands and was the sweet confused girl.

Trevor watched from across the lawn, watching Cade's hand at my back, watching Cade lean down to say something in my ear.

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