November 1988 – 1 year old
"You've truly outdone even yourself this time, Mr. Steele," Laura commented, drily. Remington smiled wide, missing altogether her censorious tone.
"Impressive job, even if I do say so myself," he replied, giving himself a mental pat on the back. Her fingers toyed with her throat, and she cocked her head.
"Impressive…" she drew out the word, "…Impressive. No, that's not the word that comes to mind," she corrected, as she watched a clown in full regalia making a balloon giraffe for their one-year-old.
"Well-planned?" he offered. She shook head slowly, as her eyes moved to the bounce house tucked next to the side of the house, its compressor sputtering and wheezing.
"Noooooo," she drew out the word again, as she watched Olivia sink her teeth into the balloon. "Not that either." Then, she was suddenly on the move, striding across the terrace, to fish a piece of rubber out of their child's mouth. She cringed when Olivia let loose an ear piercing screech, expressing her unhappiness at her mother taking her treat from her. Laura pressed a hand to her forehead, praying for patience. Picking up Olivia, she carried her over to where Frances was sitting on the couch with Jocelyn and Bernice by the outdoor fireplace. "Frances, would you mind keeping an eye on Olivia for a minute, while Remington and I prepare her cake?"
"Of course, I will. You know how much I enjoy my time with her, Laura," her older sister reminded her, gladly taking the baby when Laura held her out.
"Giggles, may I speak with you for a moment?" Laura called to the clown.
Honk, honk, the horn at the clown's waist acknowledged the request. Rolling her eyes, she forced herself to take a slow, deep breath as the clown danced is way in her direction. "Ostentatious, there's a word," she announced. Remington's smile faltered a bit.
"Osten—"
"Giggles, can the balloons. Got it?" she ordered. The clown tilted his head and gave her an exaggerated sad face. "Don't give me that," she scolded. "No balloons and you can stay, maybe even get a decent tip at the end of this… this… fiasco. But one more balloon and you're out. Do you understand me?" The clown nodded his head, then ambled away, shoulders dropping, head down, in an exaggerated display of disappointment. She ground her teeth as she edged her way around a second clown, currently applying full clown makeup to Bernice and Jason's son, Bo "Excessive, there's another word," she ground out.
"Excessive?" he asked, taken aback, looking back over his shoulder at the face painting stand. "It's a circus theme, Laura – something I thought you might appreciate, might I add. And what's a circus without a couple of clowns, hmmmm?"
"A couple, Mr. Steele?" she retorted in disbelief, as she walked past a clown juggling bowling pins, then yet another doing magic tricks.
"Boss, you could show this guy a thing or two about fire eating," Mildred called to him from the other side of the pool. He gave her a weak wave as he watched Laura's head snap in the direction of said fire eater.
"You can't be serious!" Donald exclaim to Mildred.
"I assure you she is, my friend," Monroe answered in Mildred's stead. "Mick enjoyed a bit of a stint with the carny during a bit of wild spell in his youth."
"The fire eater… a contortionist," Laura threw her arms out in the general direction of where they stood. "Or the strongman and bearded woman?" she indicated the former standing next to a popcorn stand, the latter next to a cotton candy stand. "The ringmaster giving pony rides," she protested, voice rising an octave. His eyes flickered to the rear yard, where Laurie Beth was happily riding astride said pony.
"Laurie Beth certainly seems appreciative of my efforts," he defended.
"The characters outnumber the children three-to-one, Mr. Steele," she protested, as they stepped inside the house. "I don't even want to know how much junk food those children, including our own, have been plied with this afternoon." She opened the '1' candle as Remington removed the cake from the refrigerator.
"It's Olivia's first birthday, Laura. It only comes along once in a lifetime. It should be memorable—" She barked a laugh at that, drawing his frown.
"Memorable…" she drew out. "It will certainly be that…" A grin lit up his face at what he interpreted as praise. "…as it's the first and last birthday party for Olivia that you'll plan." His face fell, as she stabbed the candle into the cake with more force than was necessary.
"Speaking of excessive," he rejoined, "As I recall, the punishment should fit the crime. Don't you think banning me from planning our child's future celebrations is a bit…" he waved a hand around in emphasis "…extreme?" She gave him a look that suggested he'd lost his mind.
"Mr. Steele, there is a seal in our backyard!" She threw up her hands in frustration, then picking up the cake, stomped towards the terrace doors. He bit his tongue before disclosing how difficult it had been to locate said seal and its exorbitant cost, suspecting neither would not play in his favor, although he believed it should do exactly that.
"One that brought Olivia a great deal of enjoyment," he commented with a smile, instead, believing he'd win the point on at least that, until she looked back over her shoulder at him with narrowed eyes. His footsteps floundered, and he rubbed a hand across his mouth. Was a bit of praise, a few stray caresses, a look of adulation after all he'd done too much to ask for? With a shake of his head, he followed her back onto the terrace, taking Olivia from Frances and securing her in her high chair.
"Cake!" Laura screeched towards Mindy, Danny and Laurie breath in the backyard, as he scrunched his eyes closed and grimaced, looking pained.
In short order, the guests had gathered, singing Happy Birthday to Olivia as she clapped with delight at the singing… or perhaps it was that all attention was focused on her.
Olivia was utterly fascinated by the slice of sugary confection placed on the tray of her high chair. She squished, she giggled, she smeared, she licked, she squealed, managing to get a piece into her mouth here and there, although the majority ended up painting her face, hair, arms, hands and dress. Remington, bedazzled by the display, committed the moment to memory and film, determined it would be this place and time next captured by his hand and added to her bedroom wall.
Late that afternoon, after all the guests had departed and the last clown had been dispatched, a tired Olivia toddled up to her father, grabbing a pant leg, as he and Laura cleaned up the remnants of the party. A hand fisted into an eye, told her Da she'd finally wound down from an afternoon of excitement and sugar. Dropping the sponge he'd been using to clean the table, he easily lifted her to lay against his shoulder, a tiny hand clutching his other shoulder, while her head nuzzled into his neck.
"This can wait," he told Laura, taking her by the hand and leading her to a chaise, where she tucked herself into his side, and Olivia snuggled down into the cradle of their bodies with a soft sigh. Laura's fingers played in their daughter's hair, comfortingly, as the baby's heavy lids dropped close.
"A year old," she reflected in wonderment. "Where did the time go?" She lifted her eyes to his.
"I don't know," he answered, quietly, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose, then nuzzling his cheek against hers. "I only know I'm not quite prepared to see it go." She tipped her head back to look at him.
"See it go?' she asked, puzzled.
"A year gone already, yet it seems only a minute has passed." Her hand left Olivia's hair to caress his jaw.
"Yet you still have a lifetime ahead with her." Capturing her hand in his, he pressed a kiss to a palm as intense blue eyes met her brown ones.
"And with you?"
"You better believe it, buster," she answered with a lift of her brows and a lingering touch of her lips to his. "After all, we still have at least three-and-a-half years to make up for."
"Indeed, we do, Mrs. Steele." He drew her head back down to rest beneath his shoulder, and rested his chin on the top of her head, Olivia nestled, sleeping soundly between them. "Indeed, we do."