“I want cake! Mommy cake!”
My mother is quick to interrupt. “Colette, come to Grandmother.”
“Cake! Cake! Cake!” Her little eyes sparkle and two dimples punctuate her cheeks as she cheers for cake.
Happiness rises in my chest with every pump of her cute little fist over her head.
“How about this…” I go to her and kneel, putting my hands on her tiny waist. She puts her hands on the tops of my shoulders, her dark eyes suddenly serious. “I’ll make you a special cupcake with a purple monster and a big three on it.”
“I’m four now.”
“This isn’t a birthday cake.” I smooth my fingers in her hair, moving a cluster of silky brunette curls behind her ear. “It’s a special cake, and I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”
“You won’t spend the night?”
My heart sinks with her question, but I can’t spend another night in my mother’s house. I just can’t.
“I have to fix this house for us. Remember? We’re going to live upstairs. And I’ll be over first thing tomorrow with your cupcake.”
I carry her to the door where my mother waits, disapproval lining her thin lips. “Church tomorrow. I expect you to be there.”
“I will.” I give Coco another hug, taking a deep inhale of her sweet little girl scent. “Go with Granny now.”
“Grandmother.” My mother corrects me. “Come, Colette.”
“Let’s go, Granny!” Coco wiggles out of my arms to the floor then hops out like a kangaroo.
Tabby snorts behind me, and my mother’s eyes narrow. “We’ll finish this tomorrow.”
With that she strides out, and I push the door closed behind them, resting my forehead against the glass.
“I swear, if that little girl were any less stubborn, I’d be worried about her,” Tabby says from behind me.
I watch them a few seconds longer—my mother trying unsuccessfully to hold Coco’s hand while they walk the four blocks to her house, the old house where I grew up.
“She’ll be okay a little while longer,” I say, feeling like my heart is hopping away from me, batting at her grandmother’s hand with every bounce.
“Old battle axe. I guess you survived living with her.”
“She wasn’t like this before Minnie died.” My voice is quiet, repeating a memory.
“Says who.” It’s not a question. It’s a skeptical retort from my bestie.
“Aunt Agnes. She said my mother used to know how to have fun.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“To be honest, I’ve never believed it either.” I don’t even remember my older sister.
“You’re too independent for her. She can’t handle it. She almost lost her mind when you took up with Jackson Cane so young—”
Cutting my eyes, I stop that line of conversation. “We don’t talk about him.”
“We should.” Tabby studies my face. “He’s the only guy you were ever serious about.”
He said he’d come back, and he never did…
Exhaling deeply, I return to my phallic creation. “Ancient history. Now let’s finish this thing before it’s too late.”