Renata walked out holding my fingers, her blanket tucked under her other arm.

She waved to Carmen from the passenger seat, and Carmen waved back.

Neither of them spoke until we reached home.

At nine fifteen, Renata was tucked into her bed with the familiar bear story open across my knees.

She corrected me when I skipped the second loss of the boots, then insisted that the bear should have kept a spare pair in his kitchen drawer.

“That would have saved him a lot of trouble,” I said.