“Well!” she said. “I have spent the last couple of months writing a cookbook. It’s called Thirty Meals a Twelve-Year-Old Could Make and Did! I’m particularly proud of the title. And I sent it to a publisher and it’s going to be published and I’ll make a ton of money because I can think of lots of other cookbooks to write. And other kinds of books. Like maybe a series, like Thirty Things a Twelve-Year-Old Could Fix and Has! It’s all to show that people twelve years old can do all this stuff that we’ve had to learn. Of course, that’s the hook. But the cooking and baking is the part I’m really interested in. Still, it should be a moneymaker, this series, and I can support us and Nat can go to strings.”

“You’re getting a book published!” said Miss Webster in amazement. “That’s wonderful!”

“What publisher?” asked Al through a mouthful of food.

“Random House,” said Marlin.

“Random House sent you a contract?” asked Al, looking startled.

“I haven’t actually heard from them yet but I sent the manuscript there,” said Marlin proudly. “I couldn’t decide for a while which publisher to choose but I like the cookbooks they’ve published so I decided to give it to them.”

Al snorted. “You know how many manuscripts they get sent? It won’t even get read, Marlin. You need an agent just to get read and even then, the likelihood of getting published is practically nil.”

“It is NOT!” said Marlin, bristling angrily and standing up. “You don’t know anything. You only had one book published and that was ten years ago. And what’s the matter with you? Did you just come to RUIN MY BIRTHDAY?”

“Yes, maybe another time, Mr. Farber,” said Miss Webster gently.

“Ha, another time?” said Al through a mouthful of chow mein. “Talk about timing. You just told the kid on her birthday that you’ll be abandoning her and her sisters. So don’t talk to me about timing.”

Miss Webster looked suddenly shocked and horrified. “They know we’re not abandoning them!” she said.

“Oh, they do, do they? You’re moving way up to the Yukon, aren’t you? Don’t think I don’t know what’s been going on here. Charlie tells me everything. She thought you were adopting them. She thought that’s what you were going to announce today.”

“Oh no,” whispered Miss Webster. “Charlie, did you really think that?”

Charlie began to cry.

“There, you see,” said Al, pointing his chopstick at her. “Happy birthday, indeed.”

“Oh, Charlie,” said Miss Webster, going over to hug her.

Fiona glanced at Marlin, who still looked furious, and wondered frantically how to save the disintegrating party. The party they’d all been looking forward to all week.

“How about some cake?” she said with fake cheer.

“No, thanks,” said Al, pushing his chair back and putting down his chopsticks. “I’m going home. I’m clearly persona non grata.”

He grabbed his framed picture of Billy Bear and rose. Then, as if he’d almost forgotten, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a ring box, tossing it on the table. “Here, kid, this is for you. Happy birthday. I bought it for Martha but she didn’t want it so I figured it should go to one of you. You can sell it if you want. I paid two thousand dollars for it. Don’t take less than fifteen hundred if you sell it.”