“Don’t apologize.”
The woman looked at her.
“This machine is confusing.”
“It is.”
Pearl pointed.
“Start here.”
She remembered Marianne.
She did not touch the mouse.
She let the woman do it.
One line at a time.
That felt important.
Meanwhile, preparations for Evelyn’s birthday continued.
Howard ordered food.
Denise handled decorations.
Pearl kept reminding both of them not to turn St. Matthew’s fellowship hall into a wedding reception.
“Mom is eighty.”
Denise said:
“Exactly.”
“She deserves beautiful.”
“She deserves comfortable.”
“We can have both.”
“Not if you put gold chair covers in a church basement.”
“They’re champagne.”
“They’re shiny beige.”
Eventually, Denise surrendered.
Blue tablecloths.
Cream napkins.
Small vases with forget-me-nots.
No balloons shaped like the number eighty because Pearl said they looked like a medical warning.
Howard arranged a slideshow.
Pearl collected photographs.
That became unexpectedly emotional.
Evelyn at seventeen.
Evelyn holding baby Pearl.
Evelyn and her husband Richard standing beside their first used Plymouth.
Evelyn in the church kitchen wearing an apron that said PRAY HARD, COOK HARDER.
Evelyn at Pearl’s wedding.
Evelyn holding her first grandchild.
Evelyn at seventy-nine, kneeling beside a flower bed even though everyone told her not to kneel anymore.
Pearl sat at her kitchen table sorting pictures.
The invitations had seemed like a small part of the birthday.
Now she understood why she had cared so much.
The celebration was not merely a party.
It was evidence.
Eighty years existed behind Evelyn Bennett.
Pearl wanted the details treated carefully.
On April 12, Pearl woke before six.
She barely slept.
At seven, she loaded her car.
Extra invitations.
Tape.
Scissors.
Flowers.
Two extension cords.
Emergency stain remover.
Three pens.
A sewing kit.
Howard laughed when he saw the supplies.
“You planning a birthday or disaster response?”
“With this family?”
“Fair.”
The fellowship hall slowly transformed.
Blue tablecloths.
Cream runners.
Small flowers.
Photographs along one wall.
A cake with pale blue frosting.
Pearl placed one invitation inside a simple wooden frame near the guest book.
Denise noticed.
“You framed it.”
“Yes.”
“That is extremely sentimental.”
“I learned from Mom.”
By one-thirty, guests began arriving.
Several held the invitations.
That pleased Pearl more than she expected.
Mrs. Jenkins walked in with hers tucked inside a Bible.
“I kept it.”
Pearl smiled.
“You were supposed to use it and throw it away.”
“No.”
Mrs. Jenkins looked at the little flowers.
“It reminded me of your mother.”
At 1:57, Howard received the message.
“They’re pulling in.”
Everyone quieted.
Evelyn believed Pearl was taking her to lunch.
Denise had arranged for one of Evelyn’s friends to drive her to the church under the excuse of dropping off donated clothing.
Pearl waited near the entrance.
Footsteps approached.
Then Evelyn appeared.
Gray hair freshly curled.
Blue cardigan.
Small purse on one arm.
The moment she saw the room, she stopped.
Fifty people stood.
“Surprise!”
Evelyn froze.
Then immediately started crying.
Of course.
Pearl laughed through her own tears.
Evelyn covered her mouth.
“Oh, you children.”
Howard hugged her.
Denise hugged her.
Then Pearl.
Evelyn held Pearl longer.
“You did this?”
“All of us.”
Evelyn looked around.
Her eyes landed on the framed invitation near the guest book.
She walked toward it.
Pearl’s heartbeat changed.
Evelyn picked it up.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she touched one of the small blue flowers.
“Forget-me-nots.”