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it. If Corey understood that he’d already spoiled the secret, he’d go straight to Mom. This way, he thinks he’s still keeping the secret. Now we can look in the garage and find the presents ourselves. It’s perfect. Mom won’t suspect a thing.”
    Dana hesitated. “That’s not very nice, Erin. Mom really likes to surprise us. I wanted to know if I was getting one. I don’t necessarily want to see it right now.”
    â€œFine, but I’m going to look in the garage. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” Dana was right on my heels as I left the room.
    â€œGirls? Is your homework done already?” Mom was at the kitchen table putting last-minute touches on a church mission project, all the while chatting with a friend on the telephone. Somehow she still managed to notice our attempt at an exploratory excursion to the garage.
    â€œNot quite,” we admitted. “We were just going out for a few minutes. We’ll be right back.”
    â€œAny particular reason?” she asked, covering the mouthpiece of the phone.
    Mom, who was as trusting and pleasant a person as you’dever meet, always seemed to have a sixth sense whenever her children were about to step out of line.
    We decided, after a silent conversation of meaningful glances back and forth, it was best to retreat. “No reason. Never mind.”
    There was an inquisitive look in our direction. But Mom let the matter drop as we turned and plodded back up the stairs, hoping there would be a moment after school the next day to slip undetected into the garage for a look around.
    But by the next afternoon, there was no hidden parcel. Not in the garage. Not in the large closet under the stairs. Not in any of the usual hiding places. The only thing Dana and I could conclude was that Mom had figured out where we’d been heading and had moved her surprises to a neighbor’s garage. She’d been known to do so in the past. Now there was nothing to do but wait.
    Dana decided to continue perusing the catalog just in case she would still need to fall back on her original hopes—that enough money would somehow materialize when the mail arrived carrying the usual birthday check from Grandma and Grandpa Walsh. These were some very slim hopes, we both realized.
    Brett’s birthday came first, falling this year on a Tuesday night and heralded with his favorite supper followed by his favorite cake—German chocolate with coconut pecan icing. Brett easily blew out all fifteen candles in one breath and still had enough air to exclaim excitedly, “Wow—now I can get my driver’s permit.” We all laughed.
    Mom had allowed Brett to invite one friend over for dinner to celebrate with us. He had chosen Travis, the pastor’s son. I liked Travis, though he rarely spoke to me. But I always felt if he ever did address me, he was friendly enough. I couldn’t say the same about all the buddies that Brett brought home. In fact, Travis was a favorite of Mom and Dad’s too. And I think they did what they could to encourage the friendship.
    Not that the boys didn’t naturally share common interests. They had both played on the school basketball team for the last two years. And both planned to make the varsity team in high school. Travis was somewhat taller than Brett, but Brett was quicker. So far he’d been able to make significant contributions to the team despite his size disadvantage.
    â€œAll right,” Daddy began after the cake had been devoured. “Why don’t you start, Corey? You tell Brett one thing you like about him, and then you keep count so we end up with fifteen—one for each of Brett’s years. Okay?” This was a favorite family birthday tradition.
    Corey nodded and bit his lip in serious concentration.
    â€œWow, fifteen! It’s going to be hard to think of that many!” Every birthday somebody said it. This time it was