Tyler wobbled atop a picnic table, straining for a helium balloon among the rafters. The elusive, pink ribbon bobbed just inches above his fingertips.

Richard grinned. “Everything under control, Dr. Macmillan?”

Tyler shot Richard a look. “One hundred percent, Dr. Bruce, why do you ask?”

“No reason.” Richard crossed his arms and surveyed their surroundings. “Guess I won’t find a salad around here.”

“Shut up and indulge.” Claire led the red-faced boy to a bench, impaled a box of chocolate milk with a straw, and thrust it into his hands.

“Good thing a couple of doctors are in the house.” Richard rocked back on his heels. “This place is a myocardial infarction waiting to happen.”

“A what?” Tessa asked.

“An M-I. A heart attack. Claire, you have baby aspirin in your bag, right?”

After balancing their gift atop a mountain of packages, Tessa pointed to the birthday cake and applauded. “Mission accomplished. It’s the pavilion’s tiny twin.”

Claire stuck pink-and-white striped candles into the icing. “We cleverly planned the day so the kids stuff themselves to bursting and then go on rides. Tyler and Richard can escort the little princes. They’re used to vomit.” She lit the candles with a single match and flashed a smile. “I’m so glad you’re here. Now, let’s cut this damn cake before we burn down the place.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Dr. Bruce probably has a fire extinguisher in his back pocket.”

Claire stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a whistle that immediately quelled the insanity. “Okay, boys, time for cake! Caitlin, come sing to your brother.”

Tessa hadn’t even noticed Caitlin.

Nose deep in a book, she perched on the far edge of the most distant picnic table, out of range of the madness.

“Now, Cait,” Claire said.

Her tone would not be denied. When Tessa was a girl, her mother also had a “mom voice.” No matter the circumstance, the tone meant, “whatever you’re doing, kindly stop this millisecond, and do as I say.” The notion of having kids flitted through her brain again. Would the mom voice ever spring from her lips? Looking exactly like her mother just moments ago, Caitlin rolled her eyes and deposited a massive tome on the table. Tessa couldn’t see what she was reading, but it was probably light and age-appropriate…like Anna Karenina.

“There’s my girl.” Richard winked and skootched to make space for Caitlin.

The girl’s face lit like the Benton’s Grove Ferris wheel at night. Tessa had no clue what kind of parent she’d be. Richard Bruce, however, was destined for first-rate fatherhood. She knew that fact for certain.

With another summons from Claire, “Happy Birthday” was sung, presents were opened, and cake was devoured with just enough time to catch the show in the Enchanted Castle Puppet Theater near the haunted house.