Page 5 of Paging Dr. VanRyan
Mom stared down at the cake and blinked. Dad leaned over, mouthing the words, a strangled noise leaving his lips. Graham and Laura looked at the cake, then at me, shaking their heads.
Gracie peered from the screen. “What does that say?”
I grinned.
“Ride me, Katy!”
In addition to the fun bit, I’d had Maddy add “Happy Birthday.” But nobody noticed those words.
My mom looked up at Dad. “You…”
“I didn’t!”
“But you said you got the cake.”
He glared at me. “There was a bit of a mishap. Our son picked up a replacement.” He narrowed his eyes. “I suggest you start running, Matthew.”
I couldn’t stop the laughter. “Come on, Dad. You know you love it.”
He opened his mouth, but my mom started to giggle. That became guffaws, then loud laughter. Graham and Laura joined her. My siblings were cracking up, knowing I’d done this. Knowing my father wasn’t shocked at the prank, nor even put out by it.
“Is it chocolate?” he asked.
“Half,” I gasped, still amused.
“Then cut your pony cake, my Katy. I need the sugar. We’ve got some riding to do.”
“Yeehaw,” Mom replied. “Yeehaw.”
I laughed so hard, I almost cried.
I loved my family.
CHAPTER 3
MATTHEW
The next day, I stopped at the bakery again. For some reason, I couldn’t get Maddy off my mind. I kept hearing her girlish laugh, the way she had teased me. How she had shown me the cake, her eyes dancing as she did.
“Your parents must have a great sense of humor,” she observed.
“They’re awesome. My mom will laugh, and my dad will make some rude joke. Every year, the drama with her cake is funny. This year is epic.”
“You’ll have to tell me how it goes,” she said, then grimaced. “I mean, if you ever come by again.”
“I often do. I haven’t seen you here before.”
“Oh, I’m just filling in for a while.”
“Ah.”
I stopped short of asking her out. I rarely dated.
But since she’d been on my mind all day, I wondered if I should change that.
And now I was parked outside again.
I took a deep breath and crossed the street. I entered, the bell over the door singing out my arrival.
