“That’s true.” Erica was reminded of all the reasons she’d chosen never to have a pet.
“You can’t change your mind and give it back, so you have to be sure. And we already have Rufus. My daddy chose Rufus when he was a tiny puppy and now he’s one of the family and he’s ours forever and ever.”
The mention of her father was so natural it was obvious that she and Hattie talked about him frequently.
Erica was thinking about that, and the difference with her own mother’s approach, when she realized Delphi had asked her a question. “I’m sorry, could you say that again?”
“Would you like one of Panther’s kittens?”
“Me?”
“Yes. I can’t have one right now. You could have one, but you’d have to be sure because if you’re not sure you can’t have a pet.”
Erica’s head was spinning. “Right.” She definitely wasn’t sufficiently briefed for this conversation. She would rather have sat in front of an auditorium of CEOs. “I definitely can’t have one of Panther’s kittens, but thank you for thinking of me.”
“There’s something else I want for Christmas but it can’t be bought and it can’t be wrapped.” Delphi lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I would like Noah to live here. With us. But I’m not sure Santa can fix that. Do you know?”
“Do I know what?”
“If Santa can fix for Noah to live with us?”
Erica knew nothing about Santa, and she knew nothing about Noah, but she did know when she was in over her head. “Santa’s job description is not one of my areas of expertise.” She could imagine Anna frowning at her for that response and made a valiant attempt to do better. “You seem to like Noah a lot.”
“Yes. He’s funny and kind. Rufus likes him. And Mommy is always happy when he is here, although sometimes she drops things.”
“She drops things?”
“Yes. Yesterday she dropped a glass when he walked into the room. Last week she dropped Rufus’s food. But it didn’t matter because he ate it anyway.” Delphi studied her with frank interest. “What do you ask him for?”
“Who?”
“Santa. When you wrote your letter. What did you ask him for? If it’s a secret, you don’t have to tell me.”
Erica shifted in her chair.“I haven’t written to Santa.”
“Why not?”
“Well, because—” What was she supposed to say? If she was sticking to the truth then she’d say that there had never been a time when she’d believed in Santa. Her mother hadn’t believed in sugarcoating life. Santa had been a fantasy figure, along with the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny. Also, in her mother’s case, men who knew about responsibility. But it wasn’t her place to ruin Delphi’s fantasy. “I’m sure he is busy. And I can’t think of anything I need.”
“Do you have a dog?”
“No, I don’t have a dog. I don’t have pets.”
Delphi wrinkled her nose. “If you promise Santa that you’d care for it really well forever, you could ask for a dog.”
If she hadn’t known better Erica would have thought the child was in league with Anna.
“I’m away from home a lot so it wouldn’t be fair to have an animal. I’m sure Santa would agree.”
Delphi snuggled deeper into the sofa, deep in thought. “Are you really my aunt?”
“Yes, I’m really your aunt.” It was a relief to be moving away from the topic of Santa.
“I’ve never had an aunt.” Delphi rested her chin on the dinosaur’s soft head. “What does an aunt do?”
Assuming thatno ideawasn’t an acceptable answer, Erica rooted around for something that might work. “Well, I—”
“You don’t know, do you?” Delphi cuddled the dinosaur. “That’s okay. Mommy always says it’s okay not to know, but you always have to say so.”
