Five years later . . .
“What the hell is this?” Randall glared at the plate in front of him.
“That would be a birthday cake. You know, for birthday parties. You’re at a birthday party. We just sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to my son.”
“Smart-ass.” He sneered. “Why’s it on a plate?”
“Because eating off the floor is unsanitary.”
At his side, Jimmy laughed as Randall’s face turned a darker shade of red. “But we’re at the restaurant.”
“Yes, I’m aware. I’ve been here all afternoon to decorate the room and make the birthday cake.”
Molly and I had closed The Maysen Jar tonight for a private family function. All of my family and friends were here, enjoying pizza and beer and cake as we celebrated my son’s first birthday.
Everyone I loved was here for the party. Adults were smiling. Kids were laughing. Everyone was having fun.
Everyone, except Randall.
“I come here,” Randall stabbed his finger on the counter, “to sit on this stool and eat food from your jars. It’s been that way for almost six years. I could stay at The Rainbow if I wanted to eat from a plate.”
I blinked at him, dumbfounded. “So you’re mad because I didn’t make Brady’s birthday cake in jars? You know that’s ridiculous, right?”
He grumbled something and stabbed his fork into the cake. “For every one of MacKenna’s birthdays, you made desserts in jars. How was I supposed to know you’d change for Brady? I don’t like surprises.”
Jimmy had been trying to hold back his laughter, but as Randall shoved a huge bite of cake in his mouth, he burst out howling at his best friend. “You old grump. You don’t like anything. Shut up and eat your damn cake.” He winked at me before diving into his own cake and ice cream.
“Are you going to join the party?” I tilted my head toward the tables I’d pushed together for the party. “Or are you going to stay at the counter and be antisocial?”
“Antisocial,” Randall muttered before taking another enormous bite.
Jimmy just shrugged. “This is my seat.”
“Fine.” I got them each a glass of water before leaving them alone to join the party.
It didn’t surprise me that they were in their stools. Jimmy and Randall, sitting in the same spots as they had nearly every day since I’d opened The Maysen Jar, had become fixtures in the restaurant. They were as much a part of this place as the brick walls or wood floors.
Last year, when I’d won an award for Bozeman’s best restaurant, the newspaper reporter had spent more time interviewing those two than he had me or Molly. They’d practically become famous after that. There wasn’t a day that went by anymore where the counter wasn’t full of their friends from The Rainbow.
But no one ever dared sit in their stools.
There had only been one incident when a poor, unsuspecting fool had tried to take Randall’s seat. He’d chased away the “stool thief” with a tongue-lashing and some wild swinging of his cane. Thankfully, no one had gotten hurt, but ever since, Molly and I had marked those stools as reserved to avoid the risk of assault.
And if they wanted to sit in their seats, far be it from me to insist they move.
I crossed the restaurant with my eyes locked on a little girl bouncing off her seat to race my way.
“Mommy!” MacKenna’s chin and cheeks were covered in blue frosting. Her green eyes, the ones she’d inherited from Cole, were darting back and forth between me and the present table. “Time for pwesents?”
I smiled and stroked her brown curls. “Not quite yet. Let’s give everyone a chance to finish eating their cake.”
Her three-year-old face formed a scowl. “But I eat mine alweady.”
“MacKenna Lou,” Mia called from the table. “Come sit by me and you can have more cake.”
The scowl disappeared from my beautiful daughter’s face as she raced to her grandmother’s side.
Mia was MacKenna’s favorite person on the planet other than her baby brother. Cole came in a close third with me trailing a distant fourth. But I loved that my daughter had such a close relationship with her nana.
Really, she was close with all her grandparents.
Just as he’d planned, Brad had retired as chief of police a few years ago. He and Mia spent some time traveling, but for the most part, they were wholly dedicated to their grandchildren. Evie and Zack’s triplets—three rambunctious boys—had just turned five. MacKenna was three.
And today, Brady James Goodman was one.
Just like his sister, Brady loved his grandparents, but while Mia and MacKenna had a special connection, Brady was more attached to my mom.
I walked around the table and took the free chair between my parents. Brady, who’d been sitting on my mom’s lap and sharing her cake, lunged for me the moment I sat down.
“Hi, baby.” I kissed his cheek. “Did you like the cake?”
His answer was to stick his fingers in his mouth and suck off the frosting.
Like MacKenna’s, Brady’s hair was brown like Cole’s, but while MacKenna had gotten Cole’s green eyes, Brady’s were completely unique. They were blue, like mine, but a brighter shade with small green flecks around the middle.
“How is it?” I asked Mom as I picked up my own fork.
She swallowed her bite of cake. “So. Good. I love the almond flavor you added. You’ve inspired me to do some experimenting.”
“Like what?” I took a bite of my own piece of cake. With a mental pat on the back for one hell of a good cake, I kept eating as Mom and I chatted about new recipe ideas. Something we did a lot these days.
My parents had moved to Bozeman from Alaska last fall. Sadly, all of my grandparents had passed within the last four years, and since my parents no longer had family in Anchorage, they’d retired and moved here to be closer to their grandchildren. Dad had gotten a part-time job at the private airfield—mostly so he had an excuse to leave the house—and Mom came into the restaurant most days to help me cook.
I loved that they were closer. Everyone did. Kali and Max had been overjoyed when they’d moved here, and my kids wouldn’t remember a time when they didn’t have four grandparents at their beck and call.
Like Finn and I when we’d been kids.
“Where did your brother disappear to?” Dad stood to clear his plate.
“He and Cole went to buy more beer. When they get back, we’ll open presents.”
Dad smiled and patted my shoulder. “Everything was delicious. Don’t tell your mother,” he leaned down but didn’t even try to whisper as he grinned at Mom, “but I think you’ve surpassed her.”
Mom just laughed. “I know she has.”
“I ate too much.” Molly slid past Dad and into his empty seat, collapsing and rubbing her stomach. “But it was so good. We need to add that cake to the menu.”
“Or maybe we should make a cake every week, just for the staff to share.”
“Yes!” Molly cheered. “They’ll love that.”
Mom, Molly and I visited for a while until the cake was demolished and the kids were chasing each other around the tables. So while everyone was enjoying the conversation, I left Brady under the watchful eye of his grandparents and snuck away to my office.
I flicked on the light and pulled out my phone, swiping to find the right picture. Then, using the special printer that Cole had gotten me last year for Christmas, I hit print.
A few moments later, I was smiling at the picture in my hands.
Brady was sitting on Cole’s lap. MacKenna was on mine. In front of us was the birthday cake I’d made with a single lit candle in the middle. Brady was staring at the flame with wide eyes while MacKenna leaned over the table, her mouth in a perfect O as she prepared to blow it out for her brother.
I stared at the picture for another second, then went to the desk, getting out a pushpin for my wall.
My wall of memories.
After I’d finished Jamie’s birthday list, I’d contemplated starting one of my own. But plotting the future had been Jamie’s thing, not mine. So I dismissed the idea and settled on something else.
I’d covered one entire office wall with corkboard to pin up special pictures.
I didn’t have a list of things I wanted to do in my life. I had a wall of memories of the things I’d already done.
I had pictures of Nazboo chasing my kids in our yard. Of Cole as he fixed up cars in our garage. Of board game nights with Finn and his girlfriend. Of Molly and her kids carving pumpkins for my porch.
My wall was full of memories I wanted to keep close, and tonight, I’d add one from Brady’s first birthday.
I stepped up to the wall, searching for just the right spot.
There was a small space open next to the picture from the day Cole had proposed. He’d taken me to Glacier and gotten down on one knee in front of Lake McDonald. After I’d said yes and we’d kissed, he’d taken a selfie for my wall, making sure to capture the solitaire diamond shining brightly on my hand.
Next to that photo was my favorite photo from our wedding day. After I’d moved into his house, we’d gotten married in the spring in a small ceremony at a local church. The reception had been catered at The Maysen Jar. It had been such a hectic day that Cole and I had hardly spent time together, so we’d snuck away for a few quiet moments to share a piece of cake at the kitchen table. Just like our first date. Molly had poked her head through the swinging door and caught it on camera.
Most of the others were pictures of the kids. I’d pinned photos from the day each was born. One of Cole kissing MacKenna’s forehead after the nurse had handed her over. One of Jimmy whispering a secret to a swaddled Brady.
I had a couple old pictures from college of me, Jamie, Finn and Molly. I had pictures of all our nieces and nephews. I even had a picture of Tuesday Hastings and her daughter, Kennedy, standing by Jamie’s old truck.
Tuesday had flourished in Oregon. She’d taken a job working with her grandmother at a bed-and-breakfast on the coast. I didn’t hear from her often, but every once in a while, she’d send me a picture with a recipe on the back.
Not once since the night she’d left had she ever come back to Montana. Not even after Cole had put Tommy Bennett in prison for twenty years. Not even after a judge had sentenced Nina Veras with two life sentences in prison for first-degree murder.
Nina wasn’t the only one in prison either. Her boyfriend, Samuel Long, had been sentenced to sixty years without parole for conspiracy to commit murder. He’d denied his involvement, of course, but when the police had found the murder weapon in his house, he’d had a harder time peddling his lies.
And the day of the sentencing hearing had been the day I’d put it all in the past. So had Cole. It had taken some time, but he’d stopped blaming himself for the murders. The hearings had given us both some overdue closure.
Jamie’s parents had attended the sentencing hearings too. They’d sat behind me and Cole in the courtroom as the judge had handed down sentences, but that was the last time I’d seen Kyle and Debbie. I wasn’t sure if they’d ever move on from their son’s death. Now that I had children of my own, I didn’t know if I would have been able to either. But I hoped, for their sake, they’d find some peace.
“There you are.” Cole stepped into the office. “What are you doing?”
I held up the picture. “I was just deciding where to put this.”
He stepped closer, looking down at the photo. The smile that spread across my husband’s face made my heart flutter just as strong as it had five years ago.
“Where are you going to put it?”
I turned back to the wall, assessing my options. The eye-level strip was full, but I still had plenty of space to fill up to the ceiling or down toward the floor. I had plenty of room for more memories.
“How about here?” I stood on my tiptoes and pointed to a free spot toward the ceiling. “Would you hang it for me?”
“In a heartbeat.”
He took the picture and I stepped back, watching as he pinned the photo.
“I like it.” Cole stepped back from the wall and pulled me into his arms, kissing me softly, before looking back to the pictures. “We have a good life, beautiful.”
I hugged him tighter. “We do.”
One I’d never take for granted. One I’d always cherish.
Minute by minute.