And we’d hung a small sign that spelled out MOMMAPALOOZA! in glittery letters.
“Oh, it’s so magnificent out here,” sighed Mom as she finished her last bite of cake. “There’s a beautiful pink glow from the house through the trees there. What a lovely, lovely party. All my favorite people, too.”
“You still have to open your present!” said Hero.
“Yay, a present!” Mom said, sitting up.
“Yep, this is a fun one, Rosie,” said Dad. “The kids spent a long time picking out something special for you. C’mon, into the house!”
“Oooh, mysterious,” she said, struggling to her feet and excitedly trotting after us. “I just LOVE surprises!”
We led her to Hero’s room, where we’d stored the present.
“Come in, come in, and shut the door,” ’Ro said urgently.
Mom slammed the door quickly. “What? Why?”
“Because,” he said, looking around his room, “because… because…” He got on his knees and looked under his bed. “Diva, where is he?”
“Here.”
The kitten was hiding under a fold of blanket on ’Ro’s bed.
“It’s a real one this time, Mom.” I held out the fuzzy little gray-and-white kitten. “Happy birthday!”
I think I can speak for Dad and ’Ro when I say that we were all totally, completely unprepared for Mom bursting into tears. Shock? Surprise? Delight? It was probably a mixture of all of those.
Dad slipped his arm around her.
“No, no, I love him,” Mom sobbed, cuddling the kitten close. “It’s just that he’s such a gorgeous little thing, and this is just the best present ever, and I’ve always, always wanted a kitten, but it never seemed the right time.”
“Well now you got one,” ’Ro said. “And Diva picked the most special one at the Humane Society. There were lots of pushy kittens there that came right up to us, rubbing against us and purring. Lots of cuties. But this little guy was the only one who didn’t. He looked scared and shy. Deev noticed him at the back. She said that all those other kittens would for sure be adopted, but this one actually needed us. He needed you. Says right on the certificate that he’s shy and needs a lot of attention. His name is Bernie.”
“Bernie,” repeated Mom, wiping her nose. “Well, hello, gorgeous Bernie.”
“You could change the name,” I said. “You have a more… dramatic taste for names.”
“I like Bernie,” protested ’Ro.
“I kind of like it, too,” said Dad.
Mom held the little kitten closer, burying her face in his soft fur.
“Mmm, well, there’s nothing to say that his name couldn’t be Bernard Octavius Pankowski III. Or something like that. Bernie for short. Oh, look, the little darling’s fallen asleep. Still purring!”
Mom eased herself down on Hero’s bed, lying with the cat nestled on her chest. Hero cuddled in. Then Dad lay down, too. Then me.
We lay there, all of us on the bed in the middle of Hero’s ridiculous, circular room, listening to the faint thrum of Bernie purring.
“Wonderful birthday party, guys,” murmured Mom, with her eyes closed. “The best.”
That feeling of satisfaction where a phrase fits exactly what you’re feeling just perfectly. In this case: “There’s no place like home.”
Acknowledgments
Thanks to my editor, Allison Cohen, for her keen eye and kindness, and to my agent, Hilary McMahon, for her generosity and support. I would also like to thank the entire team at Running Press Kids, Amber Morris, and Laura Horton for her wonderful illustrations.
Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.
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