Horace brought in dessert. Like children at a birthday party everybody screamed, “Ice cream! Hurray for ice cream!”
“And cake,” he added. “It’s a little late, Irene, but we might call this your birthday cake.”
He placed a foamy creation of walnuts and chocolate at her place. She cut the first slice for Dale and the second slice for Horace.
“Now you, Judy,” she went on, flourishing the knife, “and a little crumb for Blackberry.”
The cat caught it in his paws and played with it, like a mouse, before he ate it.
“To think that I used to dislike him,” Dale said apologetically.
Everyone was served now. Judy remembered the two extra candles left over from the party that hadn’t been a party. She brought them out and Irene lit them. How golden everything looked in their light! Irene’s eyes shone. Her hair was a halo around her head.
“You’re beautiful,” Dale said softly.
Judy heard him and smiled, sharing their happiness. She turned to the others. “It’s worth waiting for—this kind of a party, isn’t it, people?”
“We’ll dance afterwards,” Pauline suggested. She excused herself to turn on the radio, hoping to tune in on Irene’s song. But before she found anything worth while the doorbell rang.