“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered.

“I need you to write down your name and address and phone number. No, forget the address, we’ll fudge that for forms, it’s probably better people think you now live with us.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” he said.

“You’ll have to lie. I’m sorry about that,” said Fiona. “But you will.”

“Ha, I don’t mind the lying,” he said. “I mind the nuisance factor.”

He found a pen and paper by the couch in the trailer and wrote his name and phone number down for Fiona and she and Marlin headed back home, Fiona wheeling the bike and Marlin still clutching the mushed almond cherry cake.

“And no more cakes!” he called out behind them. “Until you learn to make them properly!”

“I hate him,” muttered Marlin as they walked up their driveway. When they got to the house she dropped the cake in the garbage can by the shed. “I don’t want it after he had his dirty hands on it.”

“Don’t hate him, Marlin, he might be the saving of us,” said Fiona. “But I wish you hadn’t told him I could cook. I can’t make anything more complicated than grilled cheese or eggs.”

“I know,” said Marlin. “But that only occurred to me after I said you would.”

“I guess now that we have the bike I may as well go see the lawyer alone,” said Fiona. “Especially if it’s supposed to rain. No sense all of us getting wet and only one of us can ride the bike.”

“It’s too bad we don’t have bikes for everyone,” said Marlin.

“Don’t look a gift bike in the mouth,” said Fiona. “It will be handy for errands. Especially with that basket. And twenty bucks seems cheap to me for a bike.”

They stayed a bit in the driveway, taking turns riding it. Marlin appeared to be deep in thought as she rode in circles. Finally, she said, “You know, I think I could tweak that almond cherry cake recipe. It shouldn’t have gotten all mushy like that. Less cherries maybe. Or drain them better.”

“Don’t let him get to you,” advised Fiona.

“I’m not,” said Marlin. “It’s not about that…”

But she wouldn’t say what it was about. She wasn’t even sure herself, so they left it at that and went in to tell the others their good news.

Mr. Pennypacker

SATURDAY Fiona woke up full of buoyant spring fever and optimism. All the fruit trees were beginning to bloom. Poking up like candles on a birthday cake within the sea of green grass in the meadow were brown trunks topped by round pink puffs both dark and light. They were the kind of trees Charlie might draw, so perfectly round were the tops. The songbirds were calling each other from the meadow. It was the way, thought Fiona, that one might imagine heaven, a spring morning so soft yet lustrous, so bursting with life. Then she had the wish that if her parents were in heaven it was just like this. That perhaps they were all experiencing somehow on different planes the same morning together. The thought of this, her parents perhaps longing for them somewhere far away as they longed for their parents, made a tear run down her cheek but she brushed it off quickly. Anyhow, she decided, she couldn’t really know anything for certain except what was before her and that was that the day was beautiful.