Poppy and the Diamond Ring
PART 24
On my seventy-first birthday, Evelyn arrived at the door with a homemade cake leaning dangerously to one side.
She had tried to decorate it with blue icing.
A swallow perched on top looked more like a duck, and the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY HELEN ran downhill across the frosting.
Poppy declared it the most beautiful cake she’d ever seen.
We ate it at the kitchen table while Mrs.
Alvarez told stories about my disastrous attempts to grow tomatoes.
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