When she was growing up she always thought of it as the birthday cake house. Each floor was like a new layer. And made by a different baker. Each baker with a slightly different idea of how the whole cake should look. Which lent itself to a house that was slightly askew. Or more than slightly.
Her father would say (every time they visited) "I don't know how that monstrosity hasn't fallen down yet."
Her mother would say (every time her father commented on the house) "I think it's sort of lovely."
And she would think, "Birthday cake house!"
When they would visit, her father would walk the perimeter of the house with her Aunt Bets and say things like, "The foundation needs shored up." and "I think you really should consider a full tear down and rebuild." and "You must see how this isn't structurally sound."
And her Aunt Bets would nod and make understanding noises while her father spoke and say things like, "Yes, yes, Paul. I see what you are saying." and "Should have fallen down years ago, really." and "You are absolutely right. As always." But she would smile while she said those things and her smile said more than her words.
When they would visit, her mother and her Aunt Gloria would bake in the ground floor kitchen. This could also be why she thought of it as the birthday cake house. Not that they only made birthday cake, but they did make cake. And cookies. And pies. And breads. The most wonderful baked goods always came out of that kitchen. And even though her mother never cooked at home she would say things like, "I don't understand it. I use the same recipes at home and things never taste this good." and "How do you get the biscuits to rise like that? I don't seem to have the touch." and "You really should run a bakery, Aunt Gloria. You have a talent."
And her Aunt Gloria would nod and make understanding noises while her mother spoke and say things like, "I'm sure it's the altitude or the humidity. Those things can make a real difference." and "Sally, if I told you all of my secrets you would never come visit to bake with me." and "Oh, that's very flattering but I'm sure my cookies aren't that special." And she would smile while she said those things and her smile said more than her words as well.
While her father was telling her Aunt Bets about building codes and her mother was pretending she cooked anyplace else but with her Aunt Gloria she would go upstairs to the top of the birthday cake house and find her Aunt Perry. And she would say things to her like, "What do you think?" and her Aunt would say, "I think we should." and she would smile and her smile would say everything else.
And then they would play. On the very top floor of the house there was only one room. All that is had for furnishing was a mattress and a rope. The mattress was standing against the wall near the door. The rope was strung across the room. When you entered the room you grabbed the rope and pulled yourself to the other side. Which was about 4 feet higher than the door side. When you got to the end of the rope and let go you would slide back across the floor until you hit the mattress and stopped. Every year her Aunt Perry would pull herself across the floor and then ask, "What do we do when we get to the end of our rope, Stacy?" and she would answer with glee, "WE LET GO!" And their smiles would end in laughter.
Once they had tired of climbing and sliding they would leave the top floor and go to the library floor. The only way to get from the top floor to the floor underneath it was to use the staircase that wrapped around the outside of the house. And the only practical way to get directly to the top floor was to climb the tree next to the house (which her father said was an imminent danger during any storm) and then walk across the broad branch to the staircase that led to the door. She just had to make sure that her mother and father were busy before she started the climb. Anyway...when you left the room on the top floor you walked clockwise around the house to the door that entered the floor beneath. It had to be that way because the lowest level of the top floor led to the shortest spot on the next floor. It was only a few feet tall. There was no room for a door. On the other side of the house the walls were a much more reasonable height so that was the logical place for a door.
No matter how many times Stacy opened that door the room took her breath away. All of the walls were bookshelves and most of the floor was covered with pillows and beanbags and blankets and pillow forts and...well it was wonderful. The books on the shortest wall were children's stories and as the walls got taller the books got harder. Stacy had only worked her way through about a third of the room. She was not sure how long it would take her to reach the books that lined the wall by the door but she would make her best effort to read as many as she could each visit.
When they entered the library room they didn't say anything to each other at all. They just smiled. And then settled in to read. Aunt Perry would choose randomly from the shelves while Stacy would find the marker she had left the last time and start from there. Time in the library seemed to pass differently. Even though she was the fastest reader in her class it still took her at least two days to finish most books, but here? She could read three or four in what seemed like no time at all. She wanted to read every book at least once.
It would seem like no time at all had passed, though the stack of finished books by Stacy's feet told a different tale, when Aunt Perry would stand up and stretch, letting her know it was time to head down. After putting her read books back on the shelf and moving her marker she would walk to the center of the room where her Aunt was waiting for her and they would slide down the fireman's pole to the next floor.
This is why you needed to climb the tree to get to the top floor. Sure, you could climb up the fireman's pole she guessed, but she never had. It was meant for sliding down, not climbing up. It wouldn't be a practical way to get to the library.
The next floor was relatively level and shaped like most houses. This was the floor that the bedrooms were on. She would sleep in the smallest bedroom with Aunt Perry's room on one side and her Aunt Gloria's on the other. The first day of each visit was the best day for this floor. She would say to her Aunt Perry, "I can't wait to see what you've done with the place." and her Aunt Perry would say to her, "Oh it's nothing much really..." and then she would throw open the door to her room and she would see all of the new things that had been added since their last visit.
This trip her room was painted an aquamarine blue with a full undersea mural on one wall. Her bed was covered with fish shaped pillows and there was a coral reef outside her window. One trip a few years ago her room had been painted the darkest blue that was almost black and when she laid down on her bed that was shaped like a spaceship she could see the stars on the walls and on the ceiling. That time when she looked out her window she saw the moon. Not in the sky. Just the moon.
She smiled at her Aunt and her Aunt smiled at her. Then Aunt Perry put her fingers to her lips and laid down on the bed. Stacy laid down next to her and listened. The waves came in gently. Swish, hiss, swish, hiss. She sighed. She loved the ocean. She had just started studying it in school. Her aunts always seemed to know what she would love the most. But that was easy. She loved them and their birthday cake house the most.
After they had listened for awhile they went down to the main floor of the house to eat the wonderful food that had been made and to listen to her father talk about friends who were contractors and to smile smiles that said more than words ever could.
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