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PERLA

At first, Paige loved Sophie. She said she was the sweetest girl and so polite. But then it was like Sophie turned on her. One day, she was bringing in the groceries, and Sophie had put tacks all over the floor in the kitchen. And apparently, Perla was super particular about taking off your shoes before you came in the house, so Paige was in socks and stepped right on one and cut her foot really badly. She swept them up and showed them to Perla, and she swore to discipline her, but Sophie never even apologized to Paige. Just acted like she never did it.

—Claire Vasset, friend of Paige Smith

With two days until Sophie’s party, I set aside Wednesday afternoon to make her birthday cake. Grant was at work and Paige was getting groceries, so it was a nice moment alone with my daughter.

While I pulled out the ingredients for the cake, Sophie worked on a sketch in her journal. She was still in her dark-purple silk pajamas, her hair in a thick braid that hung over one shoulder. I moved the items to a long stretch of counter and glanced at my reflection in one of the ovens as I passed.

My new nose looked spectacular. I should have had the surgery years ago. I looked five years younger and so much more refined. Tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, I turned my face, admiring my new side profile.

Hidden by my clothes was a girdle-like band around my stomach. It had a foam insert that was supposed to help smooth out my stomach and remove some of the lumps.

That was okay. I needed to look good in clothes, and right now I did. Tomorrow, I had a photographer coming by to take some headshots and candid shots. I had booked it as a session for Sophie, but I would make sure he got several solo shots of me, things the publicist could use.

I should definitely write a book. I could use a ghostwriter since my recent attempts to write a rough draft had all ended with only a few chapters written. Once the photos came in, the first order of business would be to pick one for the back cover. Something atmospheric and powerful.

“Has my doll arrived yet?” Sophie asked, not looking up from her sketch.

“No, not yet. I tracked it, but it looks like it’s still a few days away.”

“Okay.” She bent back over the pad, and I watched her long enough to see what she was drawing. It was a fairy, one with giant wings and a heart-shaped face. Sophie had been on a fairy kick the last few weeks, and her depictions were getting better with each month that passed.

I didn’t ask Sophie what kind of cake she wanted. I was making chocolate because it was what I always made and what she always ate. This was a recipe I’d been cooking since I was eight. It was fitting that the exact same recipe used at the first Folcrum Party would be used at the second.

I brought the spoon to my mouth and licked it.