The Icing on the Cake (38 page)

3. I quickly turned to my story, and stared at the words printed near the top: Written by Annabelle Pleasanton. It was such an exhilarating feeling.

4. I made up this little game where I closed the magazine and then timed how long it took me to turn to my article. I did this repeatedly, until I had the time down to just a little over a second.

All right. Since we’re friends and all, I’ll tell you one more thing that I did.

Yes, amazing,
I thought as I ran my fingers across Isaac’s name underneath the photo on page 63. So much for using the magazine as a diversion. I flipped the magazine shut and was about to turn on the television when I heard a knock at the front door. I got up from the couch and looked through the peephole. Isaac was standing on the doorstep, looking delicious in a black suit. And I mean delicious in a purely friendly sense, of course.

I exhaled deeply and swung the door open. “Hi,” I said, my voice sounding very weird.

“Man, you look gorgeous.” Isaac fixed his eyes on me for a wonderful moment, but then quickly looked away. “So, uh, are you ready to go?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

I grabbed my wrap and my dressy handbag and locked the door from the inside. Delicately, I stepped outside, and Isaac offered me his arm. I rested my hand on his muscular forearm, and was instantly overcome by the electric sensation that filled my body. And for the first time, I was afraid.

Afraid that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from telling him how handsome he was, how much I wanted to hold his hand, how much I wanted to kiss him, how much I . . . loved him.

Say something friendish,
I instructed myself.

Isaac and I were sitting at a lovely blue-silk-covered table in a lavishly decorated banquet room at the Carmel Heights Hotel. I was watching the people on the dance floor in the middle of the room as they danced beneath the twinkle lights that hung from the ceiling, and Isaac was looking out the large bay window, gazing at the ocean as it sparkled in the moonlight. And I couldn’t think of a thing to say.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I could think of plenty of things to say. But they weren’t the sort of things a friend says to a friend. They were all
Isaac will you hold me close as we glide across the dance floor
and
Isaac let’s go walk hand in hand along the beach.
Definitely not friend-like.

“So this is, um, a really great party,” I said finally.

“Yeah, it is,” Isaac agreed, turning to look at me.

“Is your family coming?” I asked.

“They couldn’t make it. But Ethan should be here a little later. He’s bringing Rona. But who knows, he took her out to dinner first, and the way they’ve been lately, they’ll lose track of time and won’t end up coming.”

“So they’re getting pretty serious then, huh?”

“Practically inseparable.”

“Good for them,” I said, suddenly feeling ridiculous about how far off I had been about Rona’s love interest, and wondering if Isaac remembered the things I had insinuated about the matter.

“Is your family coming?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah,” I replied.

As if on cue, at that moment, I saw Mom and Dad enter the room. Mom was dressed in a black dress with a sprinkling of sequins that shimmered like diamonds under the lights in the room. Dad was in his church suit and a silver tie. I’ve never in my life seen my dad in a silver tie. It was kind of weird.

I excused myself—not like it mattered since Isaac and I weren’t really talking anyway—and quickly went to say hello to my parents. When I reached them, they told me yet again how proud they were of me. Then, in a hushed tone, Mom asked me where Isaac was. I pointed to the table where Isaac now sat alone. Mom asked how things were going, and with a shrug I said they were just fine. She looked at me like she didn’t believe me.

So I was about to tell Mom that things weren’t fine, and I was going to ask her how I could make Isaac love me, when the band started playing some song that had significance to Mom and Dad. They started talking about listening to the song on some road trip they took in the sixties or something, and Dad asked Mom if she wanted to dance. With a shy smile Mom accepted, and they went to the dance floor.

I watched them go and then stood in place pathetically.

“Come dance with us,” I heard someone say. It was Patty, and she and Arvin were dancing around the floor together. It was a crazy sight if I ever saw one.

“Oh no, I don’t think so,” I protested.

But before I could object any further, Patty dragged me into the mass of dancing people. Soon I was moving my body around freely, trying to get Isaac out of my system. When the band began to play an even faster song, I invented this great move where I kind of punched the air from different angles. I was really into the move, punching and punching, when I smacked some girl in the back of the head with my flying fists.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized immediately.

The girl, who I think I recognized from marketing, rubbed her head and looked at me with contempt. Then she relocated on the dance floor.

The band began playing a nice slow song, and I started to walk back to the table where Isaac was sitting. Maybe by some miracle he would ask me to dance.

“I saw that,” I heard a giggling voice say behind me as I walked. I spun around and saw Amber, all dolled up in a black knee-length dress.

“Saw what?” I said innocently.

“You know what,” Amber said. “Come sit with us.” She motioned toward a nearby table where Jacqueline, dressed in a blue dress, was sitting alone.

“Okay,” I said, quickly glancing over at Isaac who was still sitting at our table, playing with a napkin.

“We enjoyed your article very much,” Jacqueline said with a smile after I had taken a seat. “Though I am not sure I deserved all of the things you said about me.”

“Yes you did,” I insisted. “You both did.”

“Are you wearing your Foxy Glossy?” Amber asked me.

I rubbed my lips together. “Of course.”

“Amber!” I heard a young boy’s voice calling out.

I turned and saw Angel waving his hand at Amber. Julio was standing behind Angel’s wheelchair, holding a glass of water with a lemon in it.

“I’m coming!” Amber called out to the boy. Then she turned to her mother. “I think it’s time to go get ready to . . .” She looked at me and paused. “You know, do the thing.”

Jacqueline nodded, and I wondered how in the world she knew what her daughter was talking about.

“I’ll come with you,” I said.

“No!” Amber said a little too loudly. “I mean, we have to do it alone.”

“Okay. I just wanted to say hello to Angel.” My voice was slow, confused.

“Oh, okay,” Amber said.

I followed Amber and Jacqueline as they walked over to where Angel and Julio were waiting.

I smiled widely at the pair. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Angel echoed.

Julio nodded his head politely. “Hello, Miss Pleasanton.”

“Don’t you look sharp,” I said, looking Angel over. He was dressed in a little black suit complete with a tie, and his dark hair was neatly combed.

Angel beamed. “Grandpa bought me a tie. I never wore a tie before.”

“Angel was honored to be in your article,” Julio said to me.

Angel smiled and started talking quickly. “Yeah. Before I got sick, I played t-ball and I got a trophy and Grandpa made me a shelf to put it on. My friend Peter has a shelf in his room too, and he has a whole bunch of trophies on it and he told me it’s dumb that I have a big shelf with just one trophy on it. But Grandpa took the story you and Isaac made, and he put it in a frame and put it on the shelf for me. He said that being in the story is just like getting a trophy.”

“Your grandpa’s right,” I said meaningfully.

Amber put a hand on Angel’s shoulder. “Angel, we should probably go now,” she said.

Angel nodded his head, and the foursome said their good-byes to me before disappearing from view.

Finding myself alone, I seized the opportunity to visit the buffet tables in the back of the room. I loaded one plate with mini shrimp skewers, bruscetta, and stuffed mushrooms. And then I filled another plate with chocolate-covered strawberries. Yum.

I returned to the seat next to Isaac. “Don’t these strawberries look great?” I asked.

Isaac looked up from the napkin he was still messing with and glanced at the strawberries. “Sure.”

And at that moment, something inside of me snapped. I just couldn’t take the one syllable responses and “friendly” conversation anymore.

“Isaac,” I blurted, not giving myself time to think. “I hate this. Friends stinks.”
Friends stinks? That doesn’t even make sense.
Quickly, I tried to come up with my next words, seriously hoping that they were better than the last ones I uttered, but Isaac spoke before I could.

“Annabelle, I—” he began. Then he stopped. Some muffled sound was coming from the front of the room, and it distracted him. He became suddenly quiet.

“What, Isaac?” I asked snippily. “You know what? I don’t care what you have to say. It’s very obvious that you don’t really want to be here with me. What happened, Isaac? That blonde couldn’t come with you?” I knew I sounded ridiculous, but for some reason I just couldn’t stop myself.

“Candy?” Isaac asked. His voice was no more than a whisper.

“What? Why would I want candy? I’m trying to talk to you!”

“No, I mean her name is Candy.” Isaac’s voice was still whispery soft.

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“Annabelle,” Isaac whispered. “Maybe you should lower your voice.”

“No, I will not lower my voice!” I hollered.

Isaac leaned back in his chair and pointed straight ahead. With a scowl on my face, I turned my head to see where he was pointing. And that’s when I saw Ingrid Chandler, editor-in-chief of
Central Coast Living
, standing at a podium in the front of the room.

When did that podium get there?
I wondered.
And when did the band stop playing?

Just about everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing and they were all looking at me, looks of disgust on their faces. And I think I saw Mom mouthing, “Where are your manners?” at me.

I bit my lip and could feel my face turning scarlet red.

“All right, now that I have everyone’s attention,” Ingrid said. She was staring right at me. “Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate the Anniversary Issue with us. Many individuals dedicated much time and effort to make the issue a success, and I believe it is one of our best ever. We will now take a few minutes to hear from our deputy editors.”

By the time George got up to speak, I have to admit, I had zoned out a bit. I was staring at one of the strawberries on my plate, letting my vision get all blurry until the strawberry looked like a chocolate blob with a green thing on top, when I felt Isaac gently touch my shoulder.

“Your boss is talking about you,” he said.

I looked toward the front of the room and tuned in to what George was saying. “One of the best works produced in our department was an article by Annabelle Pleasanton. It has been just three days since the issue hit newsstands, and the public response to Miss Pleasanton’s fresh and heartfelt article on La Bonne Violette has been unprecedented. I already have a stack of emails in praise of Miss Pleasanton’s work.”

What? Emails? People had written in about my article?

George continued. “We received one rather unusual request from some fans of Miss Pleasanton’s work, and we couldn’t help but comply. So without further adieu, allow me to introduce two of our guests who would like to present Miss Pleasanton with a special gift: Amber Metz and Angel Sanchez.”

Completely surprised, I watched as Amber and Angel emerged from a door along the wall behind the podium. Then, as if out of nowhere, a woman appeared with a microphone, and two men appeared pushing an upright piano. Angel zoomed over to the piano, and the woman holding the microphone handed it to Amber and disappeared from view.

With a slightly shaky voice, Amber spoke. “Annabelle gave us something very special when she wrote about us, so we wanted to do something special for her. She wrote about the people she met through La Bonne Violette because she saw something good in us. Well, we saw something good in her too. And that’s what this song is about—sharing what we have inside with the people around us and trying to make the world a brighter place.” Amber’s words were flawless and obviously carefully memorized. I felt the beginning of tears in my eyes.

I watched as Angel moved his tiny fingers to play the opening line of “This Little Light of Mine.” The melody was simple, and Angel missed a note or two, but in my mind, no music had ever been so perfect.