She switches off the oven, sliding the array of crispy mozzarella sticks and pizza bagels onto a platter.
Back up at the pool, Hunter helps her serve the lunch onto Frozen-themed paper plates, arranging them all on the long, folding banquet table that Becky rented for the party. The children eat, lured from the pool by fried food, while the grown-ups drink and mingle in the sun.
After lunch, Hunter initiates Pin the Nose on Olaf—Jade Patel wins by a landslide—followed by cookie decorating and, finally, the pi?ata. When Emma Duffy is the one to knock out the biggest surge of candy, Stella’s face crumples, reddening, her bottom lip quivering. From across the pool, Molly sees what’s about to happen. She rushes to her daughter, opening her arms just as the tears begin to fall. She smooths the back of her long, blond braid.
“It’s okay, Stell,” she soothes. “You’ll have another turn.”
“There … are … no … more … turns,” Stella sobs, the coarse material of her costume scratchy against Molly’s neck.
Molly glances at the pi?ata and sees that her daughter is right—it’s been thoroughly smashed. A dozen five-and six-year-olds scavenge its contents on the grass below.
Guests are beginning to stare, and Molly can sense that Stella, convulsing in her arms, is on the verge of a full-blown meltdown. She scans the scene for Hunter, but he’s over by the bar chatting with the Patels, oblivious.
“Hey, Stell.” Molly uses her thumbs to swipe the tears from her daughter’s cheeks. “How about opening a present?”
At this, Stella stops crying. The trembling subsides. “A present?” Her tearstained, ocean eyes bloom. “I thought I had to wait till everyone goes home.”
“How about you pick just one to open right now?”
Stella sniffles and nods, and Molly helps her to her feet, triumphant. It’s already one thirty; the party ends in half an hour. She’s almost to the finish line.
Stella runs to the pile of presents and, of course, selects the biggest. The one Sabrina brought. Or Caitlin. Or whoever the hell she is.
“All right, guys.” Molly stands, clearing her throat. “The birthday girl is going to open one present. Then we’ll have cake!”
The kids begin to gather around Stella, whose expression is now happy and buoyant. A passing storm. Phew, Molly thinks.
“This is from Sabrina and Jake,” Molly announces as Stella tears into the paper with the ferocity of a wild animal. Or a six-year-old.
“Whoa, cool!” Stella’s smile widens as she flings away the last of the wrapping. “Look, Mommy, it’s the Frozen karaoke machine! Jade has this!”
Molly didn’t know that a Frozen karaoke machine existed.
“All Jake,” Sabrina calls out, tipping her head in his direction.
He winks, and Molly feels a squeeze around her heart.
“I love it,” Stella chirps. “Thank you, Sabrina and Jake!” She turns to Molly. “Mommy, can I try it now?”
“Not now, baby. Later we can.”
“Just one song? Just ‘Let It Go’？ Please?” Stella’s expression is desperate, borderline unhinged. Molly doesn’t typically indulge Stella’s tantrums, but she knows that the threat of a public meltdown is still very much present in her child’s exhausted, overstimulated state. Twenty more minutes until everyone goes home.
“You don’t even need a plug, Mrs. O’Neil,” Jade chimes brightly. “It’s battery operated, and it comes with the batteries.”
Molly’s mother appears, squatting beside her granddaughter. “I think the birthday girl is allowed to perform one song on her birthday.”
“Yay!” Stella claps her hands. “Mommy, Nana says I can.”
“Wait, Stell, the machine has to be attached to a TV so you can see the lyrics on the screen. There’s no TV up here. Later, okay?”
Stella scrunches her nose. “What are lyrics?”
“They’re the words to the song,” says Jade, the brightest six-year-old Molly has ever encountered. “But you already know them, Stella.”
“I already know them,” Stella repeats.
“Are you sure?” Molly studies her daughter’s face for signs of apprehension, but she just nods excitedly.
Molly’s mother unpacks the karaoke machine from its box and proceeds to set it up. “Moo.” She lowers her voice. “I’ve been trying to find a moment with you all afternoon. Is Jake Danner at this party, or am I officially losing it in my advanced age?”