Within fifteen minutes, neighbors had improvised dessert from bakery cookies, ice cream, and a grocery-store pound cake somebody drove out to buy. The children relit twenty candles because sixty-five would have been ridiculous on the replacement dessert, and Lucy insisted Eleanor make a wish anyway. Eleanor did not close her eyes when she blew them out. She looked around at the people who stayed.
Her wish, if she had one, was not for peace. It was for clarity. The police arrived at 6:42 p.m. Sloan had indeed called them.
By then most of the party had ended naturally. Only family and a few close friends remained, helping stack chairs and collect glasses. Two patrol officers entered through the side gate, listened first to Eleanor, then to Harrison and Sloan, who had returned in a black Mercedes and were waiting near the driveway. Sloan wanted Eleanor arrested for destruction of property.
The older officer, Sergeant Paul Renner, looked at the blackened handbag on the paver, then at the smashed cake still partly visible beneath a trash bag near the patio edge. He did not look impressed with anyone. “Ma’am,” he said to Eleanor, “did you intentionally put her purse into the fire?” “Yes.”
“Did she give you permission to destroy it?” “No.” “Do you understand that can be criminal property damage?” “Yes.”
Harrison closed his eyes briefly. Sloan folded her arms and said, “Thank you.” Renner turned toward her. “And did you intentionally knock over Mrs. Whitmore’s birthday cake?”
“No.” Several people made involuntary noises. Renner looked toward them.
“Who witnessed the table contact?” Seven hands went up. Sloan’s jaw tightened. The second officer began taking names.