“My mother taught me to make those soaps,” she said quietly.
Neither Daniel nor I interrupted.
“She used to make them every Christmas. Little flowers, fruit, whatever molds she could find. We’d spend entire afternoons together.”
She swallowed.
“She died the spring before you moved in.”
I hadn’t known. Erika had never mentioned her mother to me.
“I brought those soaps to the potluck because it was the first time I’d made them without her,” she continued. “I was proud of them.”
Her eyes shone.
“Then I walked into the kitchen and heard you laughing about things that looked pretty but weren’t worth giving away.”
I finally understood why her friendliness had vanished so suddenly.
She hadn’t simply thought I was rude.
She’d believed I’d mocked something deeply personal.
“I’m sorry you heard that,” I said. “But I wasn’t talking about you.”
Erika pressed her lips together.
For a moment, I thought she might apologize.
Instead, she said, “Well, you haven’t exactly been pleasant to me since.”
“Neither have you.”
“I had my reasons.”
“And I spent seven years wondering what I’d done.”
Daniel glanced between us.
“Maybe that’s a conversation worth having. But first, we need to deal with the soaps.”
Erika straightened.
“I already told you. They weren’t meant to be eaten.”
“Then why weren’t they labeled?”
“I ran out of proper labels.”
I stared at her.
“You knew they needed labels?”
“Of course I did. I usually sell them at craft fairs.”
“And you gave them to children anyway?”
“I had extras. I thought they’d be fun for Halloween.”
“Fun?” I repeated.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Erika, please. Just answer one thing. Did you give Noah and Ben more than you gave the other children?”
Her eyes flickered toward me.
That was enough.
“You did,” I said.
Erika looked miserable.
“I gave most children one.”
“Our boys got six.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
She took a long breath.
“Because I wanted you to see them.”
I waited.
“I wanted you to know I was still making them. That people liked them.”
“And you thought giving my children six unlabeled soaps would prove something?”
Her voice grew smaller.
“I suppose I wanted to annoy you.”
There it was. After years of cold looks and petty arguments, she’d used my children’s Halloween buckets to make a point.
I felt angry all over again.
“You don’t get to do that,” I said.
Erika nodded once.
“I know.”
“No. I need you to understand. Whatever you thought I said seven years ago, whatever you feel about me, Noah and Ben have nothing to do with it.”
“I didn’t think they’d eat them.”
“But they could have. Daniel did.”
She looked at him.
He touched his jaw.
“My tooth is sore, but I’m fine. We were lucky. That’s why I posted the warning.”
Erika’s shoulders sagged.
“I thought you were trying to embarrass me.”
“I was trying to keep another child from biting into soap,” Daniel said.
She looked at her phone again.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Tell the truth,” Daniel said. “Let people know they’re soap. Explain that the wrappers weren’t clear and ask parents to take them away from young children.”
“And then?”
“That’s up to you.”
Erika stood quietly for a moment.
Then she nodded.
“I’ll write something.”
I wanted to believe her.
But I wasn’t ready to invite her inside or pretend everything was fine.
“Please don’t give anything to our boys again without checking with us first,” I said.
“I won’t.”
She turned toward her house.
Halfway down the path, she stopped.
“Lauren?”
“Yes?”
“I really did think you were laughing at my mother’s work.”
“I believe you.”
She nodded and walked away.
An hour later, Erika posted a message to the neighborhood group.
She explained that she’d distributed handmade decorative soaps shaped like pastries.
She acknowledged that the packaging hadn’t clearly identified them as soap and apologized for the confusion.
She asked parents to remove them from children’s candy and offered to collect any that remained.
She also apologized directly to Daniel for his unpleasant experience.
It wasn’t a perfect apology.
But it was more than I’d expected.
That afternoon, she knocked again.
This time, she wasn’t shouting.
I opened the door to find her holding a small paper bag.
“I brought ordinary candy,” she said. “Still sealed. For the boys.”
I hesitated.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
She looked uncomfortable.
“I also wanted to apologize to them.”
I called Noah and Ben to the doorway.
Erika crouched slightly so she could speak to them.
“I’m sorry I gave you something that looked like candy but wasn’t,” she said. “That was confusing, and it wasn’t safe. I should have explained.”
