To see the full cooking instructions, go to the next page or click the Open button (>) and don’t forget to SHARE it with your friends on Facebook.
He went out onto the porch barefoot, his hair disheveled in all directions.
“Watch out!” I warned. “I dropped my cup. Don’t step on the glass.”
“What is this?” he asked.
“Why is Mrs. Sarah recording us, Mom?”
That woke me up completely.
Several neighbors had gathered near the sidewalk, many of them with their phones held high.
“Sarah!” I yelled. “Hang up the phone! You know I don’t like it when they film Eli.”
She only lowered it halfway. “Carina, it’s beautiful! Didn’t you see Facebook?”
My stomach churned. “What’s on Facebook?”
A man who lived two houses away shouted, “Carina, Eli is famous!”
My son moved behind me.
I stood right in front of him. “Everyone put your phones down! Right now! He’s just a kid.”
Some faces flushed with embarrassment. Others slowly lowered their phones.
I stepped out onto the damp grass, my robe trailing around my ankles. Eli stayed close to me.
The first umbrella was dark blue. Underneath the box was a tag attached.
“For Eli.”
“Stay away, friend,” I told him.
“Mom, it has my name on it.”
“I know. But we don’t know who put it here. So I’m going to open it first.”
He nodded slightly.
I bent down and lifted the lid.
Then I screamed.
Inside was a tightly wrapped bundle in blue cloth.
For one terrifying second, it seemed strange and frightening.
Then I saw the wooden handle, the silver button, and Eli’s name written in my husband’s handwriting.
Eli plopped down next to me. “It’s Dad’s,” she whispered.
continued on the next page
