“That’s true. I didn’t really think about reporting as a job until college, and then… other things happened.” More tugging at her shirt. Jefferson wanted to ask, but could tell she didn’t want to go there.
“Looks like it’s coming together for you now,” he said instead. She shrugged, and he got the impression she didn’t enjoy being the topic of conversation. Odd, for someone who had dedicated a holiday to herself. “Speaking of which, did Hildy find you?”
“Why? Did something happen? Is she upset?”
It surprised him that a person as positivity oriented as Lillibet would leap to catastrophe first. “She’s fine. It’s about tomorrow. She was hoping you could take us someplace where her uncle won’t follow.”
“Oh! I know the perfect spot. You’ll love it.” Her eyes lit. “We could have a do-over birthday celebration. I’ll ask Keoki to bake something.”
“I’d just as soon not make a big deal out of it. Hildy already thinks I have one foot in the grave.”
Her mouth worked like she wanted to ask why his alleged girlfriend didn’t know his birth date. To his relief, she didn’t push it. “We should do something right now, before it’s over. Your birthday, I mean. Not your life.” Libby hurried to the pantry, not giving him a chance to argue.
“The crackers are toast, so that’s a no-go.” She pulled out a lower shelf, sighing in disappointment. “Why so healthy? There should at least be some coconut balls in here.” Closing the pantry door, she crossed to the refrigerator. “Birthday salad would be a crime against humanity. Aha!” She rummaged through the bottom of the produce drawer. “Jackpot. I found the secret stash. He probably thought I’d never look behind the lettuce.”
She sounded so pleased with herself Jefferson couldn’t help smiling. It was the pure triumph of a child winning a board game, nothing like the notice-me superiority he’d expected of Lillibet.
“What is it?”
“It’s a surprise. Go sit over there.” She waved at the table. “It needs to warm up a little. You want to know something terrible?”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes I put them in my pockets. If they’ve been in the fridge a long time.”
“When you have pockets.” Maybe he should have made it lessobvious how much he’d noticed about her nightwear. To his relief, Lillibet only nodded.
“But you know what would work? A candle!” She pulled open a series of drawers before holding up a slender taper. “Perfect.”
Jefferson watched her grab a plate from an upper cabinet and place something on it, stabbing it a few times with the pointy end of a paring knife before inserting the candle. A wand-style lighter flicked to life in her right hand, and the wick caught right away.
“You’re good at that,” he observed.
“Restaurant work. We light a lot of candles. I mean, lighted. Lit. I used to light candles when I waitressed. A long time ago.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway. Are you ready?”
“I think so.” Or, if not ready, at least willing.
She turned off the overhead light. “Your present is that I’m not going to sing.”
The candle flickered as she approached, casting a soft glow on her face. “I’ll say it instead. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Jefferson.” Her voice faltered, their eyes meeting in the dark. It should have felt more casual to hear her recite it like a poem instead of serenading him, but between the dark kitchen, the candlelight, and her half whisper, the moment shifted into something intoxicatingly intimate. And that was before she called him her dear.
“Happy birthday to you,” she finished in a rush, setting the plate in front of him. “And many more.”
“Should I make a wish, or do I need a shell for that?”
“It’s your birthday. Get crazy.” She pulled out the chair next to his, tucking herself in beside him.
His other wish had already come true, although it wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined meeting her again. Jefferson kept this one simple.More time.Then he blew out the candle.
“Are you going to eat it?” She nudged the plate a little closer.
“What is it?”
“A Maui Caramac. Macadamia nuts and caramel and chocolate. They’re really good. Even if it looks like a little brown lump.”
A brown lump on a plain white plate with a mismatched candle: the presentation didn’t scream “lifestyle guru,” but Jefferson preferred Libby’s late-night ease to Lillibet’s in-your-face extravagance.
“I can share,” he said, more out of politeness than from any expectation that she’d take him up on the offer.
