The Unwelcomed Child by V. C. Andrews Read Free Book Online

Grandfather.”
    “Okay,” he said. “We’re going to get her a piece of cake with a candle anyway,” he said. “I made sure of that.”
    “Oh, how ridiculous. One piece of cake and one candle for a girl this age.”
    “It’s symbolic. I didn’t want fifteen candles on it,” he said, smiling.
    She shook her head, but she didn’t put up any resistance. When the waiter returned, my grandfather ordered a cup of coffee and told him it was my birthday. Grandmother Myra said she was fine with her water, even though it tasted as if it had come out of someone’s pool. I sat back, actually trembling. They were going to bring me a piece of cake with a candle. For something like this to happen in a public place with so many people around us made me very nervous. I glanced at the young man.
    He was talking to his father, who wore a light blue lightweight sports jacket with a dark blue shirt opened at the collar. They seemed to be in a very serious conversation. I thought the young man’s good looks were even more highlighted when he was serious. His eyes, which I could see now were a bit lighter than sea blue, brightened with his intensity. I wished I could hear what they were saying. He looked so serious, so intelligent. It intrigued me. What did other people talk about? Certainly not hell and damnation, I thought.
    When the young man and his family had entered, I hadn’t looked very much at the parents, but I thought the young man’s father was as good-looking as anyone I had seen on television. I didn’t get a close enough look at the young man’s mother, but now that she was seated next to her son, I could see she had the same shade of light brown hair, styled beautifully around her face. Her eyes were more of a gray-blue. She had soft, exquisitely small facial features, with lips that looked a little puffed. Her daughter’s hair was as long as mine but brushed freely around her shoulders. I always wanted to wear my hair like that and couldn’t wait to untie it before going to bed.
    Not only our waiter but two others came with my piece of birthday cake, the candle lit. They stood by our table and sang “Happy Birthday” when I blew out the candle. I felt like crawling under the table. My grandmother didn’t look as upset as I thought she would, however, and my grandfather was smiling brightly. After they finished singing, it seemed the whole restaurant applauded. I gazed at some of the other customers and saw them smiling and nodding at me. I didn’t know how to react, so I just swallowed hard, forced a smile, and lifted my fork. The waiters clapped. One handed my grandfather his cup of coffee, and I gingerly put my fork into the cake. Would anyone here realize I had never had a piece of cake, only a practically sugarless piece of pie?
    “Don’t eat it too fast,” my grandmother warned. “It will give you a bellyache.”
    I took the smallest piece I could. Anyone watching would think I was afraid the cake might be poison.
    “Well?” Grandfather Prescott asked.
    “It’s delicious,” I said.
    “You make sure you brush your teeth well when we get home,” Grandmother Myra told me. “Sugar will rot your teeth.”
    I nodded but cut a bigger piece. Then I looked at the young man again. His smile was wider and brighter. He nodded at me. What do I do? If I acknowledged him, my grandmother might see, but if I didn’t, I would look snobby, I thought. I took a chance with a very small nod and a flash of a smile. Fortunately, my grandmother’s attention was elsewhere. She was complaining about some woman wearing a dress that was so revealing she should be naked and get finished with it. My grandfather said nothing, but the moment I finished my cake, he signaled the waiter for the check.
    “You don’t leave more than fifteen percent,” my grandmother told him, “and that’s based on the net with the tax removed.”
    “I think I know how to leave a tip properly,” he replied, which stunned me, because it