(Ridge)
By the time the main room finally settled down, there were ribbons on two chairs, a stack of folded tablecloths by the wall, and three different lists on the counter that all said different things.
Mom was still talking to Beth about food. Tessa and Marie were arguing over whether the kids needed games or if sugar was enough. Harlow had somehow kept the fog machine idea alive even after I told her no twice. Dad looked like he regretted every choice that brought him into the room.
Mira stood near the table with her notebook in one hand and a smile she was trying not to make obvious. She looked tired again, but happy in a way that made the whole day worth it.
I walked over, took the notebook from her, and set it down.
“You’re done.”
“I’m not done.”
“You are for today.”
“There
