Page 66 of Minted

“Oh, right.” Seren laughs. “Dave had you videotape it. His epic fail.”

“Not so much a fail,” I say. “You said yes.”

“I knew nothing about kids like Emerson then,” Seren says. “You know so much more than I did.”

“But you and Dave have done such an amazing job,” I say. “And I’m the world’s biggest screw up.”

“The great thing about these kids,” Seren says, “is that they’ve already dealt with so much crap, that all a lot of them need is a whole bucket of love. They’ll forgive any other mistakes you make.”

That makes me cry all over again.

“I wonder if it’s a mistake to go to Bentley’s,” I say, when I finally get myself together. “It’s a lot for a single guy to handle.”

“They’ll like the dog,” Seren says. “Plus, who else does Bentley have to buy presents for? Let him spend some of his money on those cute girls.”

“Speaking of,” I say. Then I tell her about their aversion to gifts.

“So you’re going to bury them under things and let them see that they’re wrong, right?” Seren asks.

“Something like that,” I say. “Although, my bank account is much thinner than I am. I told Santa I wanted a big bank account and a small tush last year, and I think he mixed them up.”

Seren laughs.

“But for real, anything they get will be great, I think. Based on what they had in their apartment, they haven’t had many great Christmases. I plan to take them shopping for new clothes, too. Some of theirs are pretty tatty.”

“They may have memories connected to them, though,” Seren says. “So don’t push them to get rid of anything yet.”

“Great,” I say. “I’ve adopted two hoarders.”

“You have no idea how many memories can be attached to something, even something stupid,” Seren says.

As I’m looking at an old, tired, dusty wreath my mom gave me, I realize she’s wrong. “No, I do.”

“Crap, Barb, I forgot about your parents for a second. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “Really. I know what you meant.”

“The only thing that’s going to heal those girls is the same thing that’s fixing you right now.”

“What?” I’d really like to know what that is.

“Time,” Seren says softly. And that’s when I remember just how much I love her. She always understands, but she also offers real insight when I need it.

“Thanks,” I say. “I just wish it could go a little faster. And slow down.”

“Yeah, time’s strange like that,” Seren says. “No matter what we want, it just keeps marching along at the same pace.”

“If you have gift ideas for eleven-year-old girls, can you send them over?” I ask. “I’m coming up a little blank.”

“You’re taking them shopping for something for Bentley?” Seren asks.

“Yes.”

“Watch what they touch and look at and comment on.”

“Brilliant.” She’s so smart.

“But I’ll also ask Killian what the girls just a little younger than his friends love, and I’ll let you know what he says.”

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