The facts were these: having reached the age of thirty when the statistics and usually believed realities of life and death would argue to the contrary was quite an accomplishment. Charlotte Charles had not had a proper birthday since she was eight years old, before the death of her father and before being swept into a life of solitude and
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They undoubtedly made a strange procession as they made their way home (Digby held his head high, trying to keep what little dignity he had left), but it was for a good cause. The best, in fact.
Ned was hardly surprised when their return to the hut found it transformed, with Chuck moving about like the little Christmas elf he was sure she might have been in a past life. "I'll never underestimate your decorating prowess again."
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"Oh you really did it!" she exclaimed with a grin, feeling a bright light come to warm her sweet spot. "Oh thank you all so much. And you shouldn't. I am a master decorator."
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"We made you a birthday pie," he added, holding up the covered dish he was still carrying. "Well, I made it. Digby and Pigby snoozed under the table, but they helped in spirit."
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"Awh, thank you. I like that, starting a new decade with birthday pie."
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