I could have spent a grand. Or ten grand. But at what point is it enough? What percentage of your money must you spend on someone for it not to be insulting?
Sydney clearly thought whatever percentage was a hundred bucks wasn't enough. When she opened my gift she shuffled through the skeins of yarn, digging toward the bottom as if checking to see what else I'd included, then looked up with a vibrant smile. She'd always smiled that way. Why, this time, did it seem so fake? "Angela, you're so generous! Look at all this yarn!"
The woman sitting beside her, a friend from her knitting club, was almost drooling. "It's gorgeous. You're so lucky, Syd."
Sydney laughed. "Me? Angela's the lucky one."
Before I could stop her, although I had no idea how, she told everyone about my lottery winning.
"I thought you looked familiar," her knitting friend said. "But wasn't your hair brown before?"
I nodded, feeling sheepish.
"And shorter," Sydney chimed in. "But of course she can afford extensions. She can afford anything she wants."
To her credit, the knitting friend didn't look any less impressed with the box of yarn, but as Sydney went on opening gifts I caught several people giving me vaguely dirty looks. It bothered me, but I couldn't see what I could do about it.
After Sydney had all her gifts opened, she said to her knitting friend, "Where'd you put the cake, Elly?"
"On top of the fridge. Want me to go get it and bring it to the table?"
"Oh, no, I'll do it."
She came back a few minutes later with a huge cake platter in her hands. Elly pulled a camera from her pocket and stood up, then looked horrified. "Oh. You cut it already?"
Sydney giggled and set the platter on the dining room table. "Can't eat it without cutting it, silly."
Elly flushed and put the camera away. "I know. I... never mind."
Sydney clearly had no intention of minding, and I wondered why her friend had wanted a picture so much.
We all went to the table to sing "Happy Birthday" before getting a slice of cake, and Sydney's paper-thin and designer-clad mother said, "That's a gorgeous cake."
Even with the cut lines through it, I could tell she was right. It had almost a water-color effect somehow, with soft swirls of green and blue and purple blending into each other.
"I'm glad you like it," Elly mumbled.
Several heads, including mine, turned sharply toward her, and Sydney's mom said, "You made this?"
Elly nodded and Sydney said, "She makes cakes for everyone. Just for fun. She's pretty good at it. But I picked the colors. Anyhow, sing so we can eat!"
We did, while Sydney stood beaming, then she passed out slices of the cake and somehow managed to turn just about every compliment Elly received into one for her. I'd wondered before how someone as sweet as Sydney could put up with my frequently sour brother, but now that I was really paying attention I suspected Sydney was just as sour underneath the sugar. A perfect pair.
I got Elly away from Sydney after I'd eaten half my delicious slice, by asking her to help me fetch the coffee and tea from the kitchen, and said, "I'm having a New Year's party, and I'd love to have one of your cakes there. Any chance you could make one that soon?"
"I... probably. Sure, yes, I could."
Not wanting her to put herself into a nightmare situation to get it done, I said, "Are you sure? I'd of course pay you more for such a rush job."
She looked mystified. "I don't do them professionally. It's just for fun."
Hearing her echo Sydney's words made things become clear to me so I said, "But your cake is too good for me not to pay you. And pay you well. But tell me first, would you really be able to make one this size by the 31st?"
She nodded, her cheeks pink. "That'd be no problem. I'm off work until January. But really, if you paid me for the ingredients that'd be fine."
"Is that what Sydney does?"
Her pink cheeks turned red. "Well... I know she plans to."
Yeah, right. I left it alone, though, not wanting to embarrass her any further and definitely not wanting Sydney to walk in on us talking about her stiffing her friend. "That's good. Can you make me one just like Sydney's but with colors like fireworks? And 'Happy New Year' written on it?"
"Hold on one second, okay?"
I nodded, and she left the kitchen, returning in moments with a little notebook and pen. "Okay," she said, writing. "Firework colors, and Happy New Year. What flavor of cake?"
"Could I do chocolate and vanilla? One half each?"
"Of course." She wrote that down too then stared at her notebook for a long moment. "How's twenty dollars?"
The way her voice shook told me she felt like she was overcharging me, when I knew from my efforts to plan the party that it was the opposite. "As a deposit? Maybe. But even that's probably too low."
She literally squirmed. "I'm really not a professional. I love making them so I do it for fun. I don't need to make a lot of money off it."
But she deserved to make some. At the same time, though, I was clearly making her uncomfortable, and that wasn't good either. "Tell you what. I think you deserve two hundred dollars for this cake. I've been shopping around and that's about what it would cost from a good bakery."
Her eyes widened, but before she could protest I added, "So that's what I'm going to give you. But if you think that's too much, then feel free to give some of the money away to charity. Or all of it, for that matter. But I wouldn't feel right not giving you any. Deal?"
Sydney barged in before she could answer. "Where's that coffee?"
"Sorry," I said. "We got chatting and lost track of time. But we're done now." I smiled at Elly. "Right?"
She gave me a small smile, then grinned. "Yup. We're all set."
I grinned back, and once we'd taken the coffee and tea out we exchanged email addresses and I promised to send her the details of where and when to deliver the cake.
Once that was finished, I had one last thing to take care of, and I needed to be even subtler about it.
After several attempts I couldn't get both my parents away from the crowd around Sydney, so when I was able to catch Dad alone I decided to go with it. "Hey, come to the front door for a second?"
Once we were there and reasonably isolated I dug the final cruise paperwork out of my purse and handed it over. "Here you go. Just show up at the airport and have a great time."
He looked down at the papers, then slipped them into the cavernous pocket of his cardigan. "We will. Thank you again, so much."
I smiled, but as he started to go I said, "Hey, Dad?"
He turned back to me. "Yup?"
I wasn't sure how to say it. "How much... do you think my present to Sydney was okay?"
He frowned. "Well, I wouldn't want it, but I don't knit. If I did, I'm sure I'd love it. Why?"
I tried to explain how hard it was to decide how much money to spend on it, and on Christmas gifts too. I didn't think I was very articulate, but he seemed to get it. "I don't think any of us deserve that money but you." He smiled. "And maybe not even you, but you more than us because you've bought tickets for years. It's yours. Keep it, spend it, whatever, as you see fit. Okay? It's not about anyone but you."
His words calmed me. "Thanks, Dad."
"No problem." He winked at me. "I'll send you my bill for advice."
I laughed. He'd been threatening to send such a bill all my life. "You do that."
We turned to rejoin the group and found Mom standing before us. "Hey there," Dad said, patting his pocket. "I have the cruise paperwork."
Her eyes lit up. "Can I see?" She glanced over her shoulder to where Sydney stood chatting with her parents and her brother. "Just for a second. I'm so excited!"
Dad showed her, and she grinned at me and gave me a hug. "Thanks again," she said as she let me go. "I can't wait."
"Yeah, well, I can't wait for my postcards."
We all smiled and turned back to the party, and I hoped they didn't notice the fu
ry briefly snapping in Sydney's eyes. She hid it fast, but for a second someone had been interested in something other than her and I could tell she didn't approve.
Chapter Twenty-Four
At one minute to midnight on New Year's Eve I stood watching my guests happily chowing down on Elly's incredible cake. She'd somehow managed to make the bright firework colors I'd requested blend into something elegant, and I'd lost count of how many people had come over to rave about the delicious chocolate or vanilla (or in Zack's case, both, since he'd been the first to go back for seconds) flavor she'd produced.
My party held an odd assortment of people, but it worked. Tuesday and Murray, and my little niece Linlee, were there, along with two couples they knew and their two kids each. I hadn't met their friends before but they were great people and fit in immediately with the ten or so people Luke and Vince had brought along. Mom and Dad were chatting with John and Zack, and Claudia and Terrence and Kerr were hanging out with Tuesday and Murray and their friends.
Claudia had come over, champagne glass in hand, to tell me that this would be her last drink for ages because they'd be starting their IVF cycle the second week of January, and I'd hugged her and wished her well. I thought I'd seen in her eyes that she knew the true source of the money but neither of us had brought it up. I didn't like that distance in our friendship, but if it meant she could have the child she longed for I'd survive it.
We had the coffee shop's TV turned on to show the festivities in Toronto's Nathan Phillips Square, and Zack shouted, "Hey, they're starting the countdown!"
We all joined in, and when we reached zero everyone cheered and clapped and many kisses were exchanged.
Not with me, though. I'd somehow ended up with Tuesday and Murray's friends nearest me, and though they did all hug me we weren't exactly at a kissing level of friendship yet.
I found myself wondering where Shane was at that moment. I'd thought of him at every New Year's since we broke up, but this time was different, and not just because he was working at separating me from half my money.
No, this time was different because I knew where he was, or at least what he was doing. He was kissing his wife. The wife I'd never thought he'd have.
The wife I could have been, should have been.
*****
The next morning, I sat fiddling with a bonsai and telling myself that what Shane did was no business of mine. He was married, and we'd never get back together.
I almost had myself convinced when my phone buzzed with a text.
So sorry, Angela! Cody was super tired last night and we couldn't bring ourselves to drive to your party. I hope we didn't ruin everything!
It took my tired hungover brain a few moments to go through the party guests and realize Cody and Sydney had in fact not been among them.
No problem, I actually didn't notice you weren't there. :)
The instant I pressed send I realized how rude I'd been, so I sent another message.
Sorry, that came out wrong! I'm glad you guys are fine and I hope you had a nice relaxing evening at home.
Sydney didn't answer for several minutes, and I was about to send another message explaining myself further when she sent, "We did, actually."
Relieved, I sent back that I was glad, and she returned me a happy face.
I shook my head and went back to my bonsai. I had to be more careful. Essentially telling Sydney I hadn't cared whether she and Cody were at my party? Talk about shooting myself in the foot.
Chapter Twenty-Five
John shook his head when I opened the door to him. "First Saturday of January already. How does the time go so fast?"
"Beats me." I closed the door behind him and gestured toward the cardboard box of letters on the floor. "That's all that was in my mail box last night. The flood might be slowing a bit."
He lifted the box, then raised an eyebrow as its weight hit him. "By what, two letters?"
I laughed. "I hope it's a little more than that. I'm so far behind."
"Well, we'll have a good chunk of time for them today."
As I went to pour us some coffee, I called back, "I really appreciate you spending this much time on these letters. I know I should do a few a day or something but I just can't face them. It's easier with you."
"With no Zack until tomorrow I haven't got much else to do." He smiled as I handed him his coffee. "Besides, you did promise me pizza."
"I did indeed. It'll be here at noon."
He checked his watch. "One hour. Let's see how many we can get through."
As we settled on the couch with the previous letters in their boxes before us, he added, "Oh, and I'll be playing hockey tomorrow at one. Thanks to someone's generous donation of ice time."
I smiled. Bud Masterson at the rink had at first not believed I was seriously trying to pay for additional ice time for all of his current users, but once he'd looked me up online at my suggestion he'd become far more friendly and had been nice enough to grant John's hockey team some prime Sunday afternoon ice time. "I still think it's weird, though, that the Annie person doesn't exist." Bud hadn't had any idea of whom I was speaking, and he'd even called the figure skating club and been told they didn't know anyone by that name either.
John shrugged. "I guess she really didn't want everyone to know who she is."
Bud had suggested that, and John and Zack had agreed with it when I'd told them at the New Year's party, but it still seemed odd to me. Not that it really mattered: whoever she was, she had been granted the extra ice time she needed since Bud had ensured that everyone who'd already been paying for time had got another slot to go with their existing one.
"Tiff's going to drop Zack off at the rink for me because he wants to watch. She can't stay, though, so he suggested..." He cleared his throat. "Well, any chance you'd want to watch me flail around on skates and also make sure the monster doesn't trash the place?"
I laughed. "They both sound fun, so sure."
He smiled and pulled out his wallet. "He'll want a snack. Kid's a garbage can with a hairy lid." He held out a twenty. "Could you buy him something?"
I struggled for a moment, then took the money. "Sure."
His smile widened. "Thanks."
I knew he was thanking me more for not insisting on paying than for taking care of Zack. "You're welcome. But you won't be if we don't get working on these letters."
He rolled his eyes but nodded, and we dug into them.
After about half an hour, I said, "This batch seems to have a lot more charity-type stuff."
"I was just going to say that. I guess you'd want to investigate whether the charities were valid, but at least it's not all 'buy me a pony' type stuff."
"Wasn't it a koala last time?"
He laughed. "Like that's any better."
"True."
We kept reading. I didn't find anything I liked, but John offered me several opportunities. I turned down the wedding for a woman whose mom was dying because I'd already refused a bunch of similar requests and granting this one felt odd, and I didn't like the idea of giving a computer lab to a private school since those schools collected fees and should therefore be able to pay for their own technology, but when I refused a playground request from a shelter for abused women and their children John said, "What are you looking for, exactly?"
I set the letter down and said, "Good things. Things that deserve money. Why?"
He tapped the paper. "What's better than this? If you don't want to fund them, I'm kind of wondering whether you want to do anything at all."
Irked, I said, "Of course I do. But it's got to go to the right places. If it doesn't I'd rather just..."
We stared at each other, the words 'keep it myself' hanging in the air though I hadn't said them.
He spoke first, because I couldn't think of anything to say. "If you don't want to do this, you know you don't--"
"I do, I really do." And I did. But... I sighed. "It's hard to see the money go out. Everything I spend is something
I could instead have spent somewhere else. It's paralyzing. I thought it'd be easier to be generous when I was rich but it's harder somehow." My first interest deposit had shown up yesterday and I'd put the whole thing against the balance on my line of credit. Seeing all that money gone in seconds had made me so upset I had thought I'd be sick in the banker's office, and the idea of spending more now wasn't much better.
He nodded slowly. "I can see that. I've never had money like yours but I can imagine that seeing it go out would be difficult."
"Yeah."
We sat in silence for a moment, while I thought of how increasingly difficult it in fact was and how I didn't want to be a nasty stingy rich person, then said, "Show me that letter again. Why did you like them?"
He nodded and held it out to me. "They ask... nicely, if that makes any sense. With class."
I read the letter more carefully than I had before and saw what he meant. The director of the shelter laid out clearly why her residents needed the services of the shelter, and also what they had done to earn the money for a playground on their own, then ended with, "Ten thousand dollars would give these children a safe place to play, and would also take a burden from their mothers' shoulders since they'd know that their children are happy. If you find yourself unable to help us we will get there eventually, but I won't deny that sooner would be better for the people we serve."
I smiled at John, feeling awkward. "You're right, this is a good one. Thank you for finding it, and I'm sorry I've been such a bitch about it."
He frowned. "You haven't been. Not at all. I get it. I can't imagine giving away that kind of money. No matter what you've got, I can see it'd be tough."
"Yeah." I didn't think he knew exactly how tough, since though this was definitely a good cause I still hated the idea of losing ten grand, but I did appreciate his support. "Okay. So this is a yes. Got any more?"
Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13) Page 89