"Sleep is for people without craft addictions." She handed me another bee. "This one goes above the cake table. He's the guardian bee."
"There's a hierarchy?"
"There's always a hierarchy, Mr. Brennan. Even among cardboard bees."
I hung the guardian bee, shaking my head. "You didn't have to do all this. I would have managed with some balloons and store-bought decorations."
"I know." Her voice softened, losing its teasing edge. "But I wanted to. Sarah's special. She deserves special things."
Something warm bloomed in my chest, unexpected and unsettling. I focused very intently on taping a streamer to the wall, not trusting myself to respond.
The guests arrived in chaotic waves. Kids exploded through the door like small, shrieking missiles, immediately gravitating toward the balloon arch Emma had somehow constructed while I wasn't looking. Parents followed behind, clutching gift bags and wearing the harried expressions of people who'd spent thirty minutes negotiating with tiny humans about appropriate party attire.
"Mr. Brennan!" A woman in yoga pants and a bright smile approached me near the punch bowl. "I'm Jake's mom, Jennifer. He's beensoexcited about this party. He talks about Sarah constantly."
"That's... good." Small talk. I could do small talk. Probably. "Sarah talks about Jake too. She says he's funny."
"Does she?" Jennifer beamed like I'd handed her a trophy. "They're such good friends. Inseparable at recess, apparently. How long have you lived in Pine Ridge?"
"About fifteen years now."
"Oh, impressive! I’ve only been here for two years. It's such a lovely community. Everyone knows everyone." She glancedaround the decorated hall. "And Sarah's mother, will she be joining us later?"
The question was casual, innocent, the kind of thing people asked without thinking. My stomach clenched anyway, that familiar tightness whenever this topic surfaced.
"It's just me," I said carefully, keeping my voice neutral. "I'm Sarah's guardian."
"Oh!" Her expression flickered, curiosity, to careful neutrality, then warm compensation. "Well, you're doing a wonderful job. Truly. The decorations are absolutely darling."
"That's all Emma… I mean Ms. Reed." I nodded toward where Emma was organizing kids for musical chairs, her voice carrying cheerful authority across the room. "She's the creative one. I just followed orders."
"She's lovely, isn't she?" Jennifer gave me a knowing look. I decided to pretend I didn't understand. "So patient with the children. They absolutely adore her."
"Yeah." I watched Emma laugh as a small boy tripped over his own feet trying to reach a chair. She caught him easily, righting him with a gentle hand and a whispered encouragement. "They really do."
Sarah found me a few minutes later, her face flushed with excitement, her paper crown slightly askew.
"Uncle C! Did you see the bee game? Ms. Reed made it herself! And there's a cake with ahiveon it, it’s full of little bees!"
"I saw, sweetheart. Pretty impressive stuff."
"Can I open presents now? Please? Tommy brought a really big box."
"After cake. That's the rule."
She frowned, suspicious. "Whose rule?"
"The birthday rule. Very ancient. Very serious."
She giggled, recognizing my nonsense for what it was. Then she threw her arms around my waist, squeezing with surprisingstrength. "This is the best party ever, Uncle C. Thank you, thank you, thank you."
The tight knot within me loosened a little. This. This was what Rebecca would have wanted for her daughter. This joy, this normalcy, this room full of friends and laughter and ridiculous cardboard bees.
"Go play," I said, my voice rougher than intended. "Your guests are waiting for their fearless leader."
Musical chairs descended into cheerful chaos. Emma refereed with impressive authority, somehow managing to make eliminations feel like victories rather than defeats. Every kid who lost got a consolation high-five and a "great effort!" that seemed to genuinely console them. I watched from my post near the punch bowl, arms crossed, trying not to smile too obviously.
"You look like a bouncer at a very tiny nightclub," Emma said, materializing at my elbow. "Very intimidating. I'm sure the juice boxes are terrified."
