Minted, p.18
Minted, page 18
I text my office manager and tell her to come here immediately.
Then I refocus on the sleaze. “I’m smart enough that I’m not going to pay you to sign those papers. You’re going to sign them because it’s the right thing to do.”
Mr. Creecher stands up, clearly ready to protest, but our salads arrive, as well as a basket of bread, and I guess he’s not quite ready to walk away. “Look here,” he says, once the waiter is gone. “I know what those girls are worth, and I’m not budging.”
He’s actually trying to sell them to me. I’m not sure what to say.
“The way I see it, I’m offering you a sweet discount.”
“A discount?” I’m worried I won’t be able to stop myself. “What on earth does that mean?”
“I know full well that they’ll make you a lot of money between now and when they turn eighteen, and I know you need to make some kinda profit, but I’m in a bind, see, and I need my cut now. I know that means I won’t get quite as much in the long run, but you’ll have the hassle of feeding them and buying them little duds to wear. So I feel like this is fair.”
“What amount, exactly, do you feel is fair?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars,” he says. “I know they got paid twenty grand for that commercial, cuz I called the company, and the lady let it spill.”
“She did.”
He nods. “So if they just do ten more commercials like that, you’ve gotten your money back.”
“But what about taxes?” I ask. “And their food and clothing is expensive. Not to mention the rent on an apartment, cars for them to drive, phones to use, etcetera. And there’s no guarantee they’ll get more commercials. Up until now, it’s just been a few hundred here and there for doing little videos on Instagram.”
Mr. Creecher’s smile is predatory. “Well, you’ll just have to decide if you think they’re worth the investment, I suppose. If they ain’t, I’m willing to risk it myself.”
That thought makes my blood run cold.
“I assume you have a checking account,” I say.
“You wanna make monthly payments?” He nods slowly. “Well, we could maybe—”
“No,” I say. “But I won’t pay you to sign the papers, as I mentioned.”
“Why not?” he asks. “If I sign these, you and that lady can adopt them. That’s what Alice said.”
“Whether Barbara adopts them or not is her business,” I say. “I’m just the boyfriend, but what I will pay you to do is apologize.”
“Apologize. . .” He frowns. “I don’t understand.”
I whip out my phone. “Tell me you have internet banking.”
Mr. Creecher nods. “I do. Course.”
“Well, after you swear to me that you’re going to apologize to those girls, you’re going to sign these papers in front of a notary public. My office manager will be here momentarily. You’re going to testify to her that you’re not being paid to do it. Do you understand me?”
Mr. Creecher frowns.
“And then, when she leaves, and the papers are in her care, you’re going to call on my phone and apologize to those girls for not being here when you heard their mother was sick. You’re going to tell them you’re sorry that you haven’t been in their life, and you’re going to promise that you won’t drag them down any more.”
“Now, wait just a second,” he says. “I woulda come if I coulda, but I had a lot going on in my life, and there was no way—”
“And then as soon as you’ve done that,” I say, “I will transfer two hundred thousand dollars into your account via my phone wire transfer app here. See?” I show him my account balance so he knows I can, and then I show him the transfer option. “And then, after that, you and I will never have another interaction. Are we clear?”
Our steaks arrive then, but by the time we’ve finished eating them, my office manager’s arrived, and Mr. Creecher does exactly as I told him to do. He signs the forms, and he insists, while my brilliant office manager video tapes him, that he wasn’t paid to sign. Once I have his notarized, unconditional surrender of parental rights, I feel much, much lighter. The only hiccup is that Barbara doesn’t answer when I call, so he’s forced to leave his apology on her voicemail. I decide that’s good enough. They can replay it as many times as they want.
And then, I transfer him the money.
While I’m paying the check for dinner, the man practically dances around—the clearance of funds has already come through on his phone. “You’re an interesting guy.” He laughs. “Actually, for someone so rich, you’re really stupid.”
“Is that so?” I walk out of the restaurant while he trots along behind me, smiling ear to ear.
“It is,” he says. “Your girlfriend must not tell you anything at all, because I lied to you, and you didn’t even know it.”
My stomach drops. Is he not really the girls’ father? Did he just sign forms that don’t really free those girls? I feel a little sick. Losing the money’s frustrating, but is there still some kind of piranha out there, waiting to try and bite those little girls? Waiting to attack Barbara?
“You really should talk to your girlfriend more.” He’s grinning very obnoxiously. It’s almost as bad as the Joker in Batman. “And there’s such a thing in the world known as haggling.”
“Haggling?” I’m really confused.
He starts to laugh so hard that he has tears running down his face. “Two hundred thousand dollars.” He shakes his head. “What an idiot.”
“Why am I an idiot?” I ask. “Because I still happen to think that’s a bargain to free those girls from someone like you.”
“I lied about that commercial. They only made five grand.” He wipes his eyes. “You, sir, were just duped.”
And that’s it.
I’ve hit my limit.
I ball up my fist and I punch the man right on the nose. I feel the crunch, so I know it’s good and broken. And that makes me grin even bigger than he just was. “Well, now we’re even. I gave you a big pile of money you don’t deserve, but you’re the real idiot. I’d have paid ten times as much, and you were too stupid to know it.”
He crumples into a heap on the ground, his hands covering his nose.
I crouch down beside him. “Ever heard of negotiation? The most fundamental principle of business is to know the value of what you have.” I stand. “And if you ever think about coming after me again, you should know that I have the best investigative team in the United States. They’ve already sent me three emails about you, with things they uncovered just during the time we were at dinner. One is a DUI you ran from in Alabama. One’s an assault charge on a misdemeanor in Tennessee. And one is charges pending against you for something to do with the disappearance of Jacqueline Pierce. Believe me when I say that if I ever see you again, Mr. Creecher, you’ll also be dealing with the authorities. And I’ll be sure to tell them how you extorted me for two hundred grand. Who do you think they’ll believe?”
When I walk away from Mr. Creecher, for what I assume will be the last time, I can’t help walking with a spring in my step. My hand might sting a bit, but overall, I feel really, really good.
17
Barbara
I’m not great at surprising people. In high school, I tried to surprise Seren with a trip to the beach. Only, during gym class, I noticed she had a swimsuit in her bag.
“Hey,” I said. “Why do you have a swimsuit?”
“You asked me about five things about the beach last week, so when my mom told me I should pack a bag to stay at your house this weekend, I kind of figured I’d need it.”
When I tried to surprise my parents on their anniversary, Mom walked into the party with full makeup on and her hair done.
“She knew,” I said to Dad.
He chuckled. “You left one of the invites in your car.”
I closed my eyes. “And she picked it up from the oil change place.”
I just can’t ever manage to keep all the details from leaking. It’s not my forte. But this time, I’m pretty sure I’ve kept the cat entirely tied up in that bag.
I’ve never really gotten that phrase, because, like, who wants to keep a cat in a bag? Wouldn’t it die? No one wants a dead cat, right? But anyway, I’ve done it. I’ve got a dead cat this time—I’m almost certain.
“Why is Bentley in court?” Ricki’s rummaging around in her backpack, looking for who knows what.
“Look, I told you guys that we’re going to the beach, but—”
“But he doesn’t know,” Nikki says. “You’ve already said, like eight times.”
“Well, he had some work he had to do, and part of it was at the courthouse, so this is where Oliver said he’d be.”
“Going to the beach to celebrate is cool, but proposing at the courthouse is kind of lame,” Nikki says. “You should’ve done that restaurant he likes.”
“Yeah,” Ricki says. “Courthouses are for depressing things, like being told that you’re being placed in a new home or, like, getting a divorce.” Ricki finally finds her lip gloss, and she punches her hand into the air over her head.
“Can we finally go in?” I ask. “I told you already—meeting him at the courthouse gives us a perfect excuse to dress really nice. He won’t have any inclination that I’m going to propose. He’ll think we’re here for a routine custody hearing or something, and he won’t be suspicious.”
“I guess,” Nikki says. “But it’s still a little annoying.”
As we’re walking toward the front door, Seren and Dave amble up.
“What are you two doing here?” I hiss.
“You thought we’d miss this?” Seren asks. “You came to ours.” She glances at the girls with big eyes.
“Oh my gosh,” Nikki says. “You invited the whole world.”
“It’s only my best friend,” I’m saying, when I see Emerson, Elizabeth, Killian, Ardath, and Bea walking toward us. “Seren,” I hiss.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “but when Bea heard—”
“Hey, Aunt Barbara.” Elizabeth glances at the girls. “I heard Uncle Bentley was going to be inside?”
“Look,” Nikki says. “If you all show up, he’ll know right away that she’s here to propose.”
And of course, Killian bursts out laughing. I want to kick him.
“Shut up, all of you,” I say. “The girls and I are going in first, and the rest of you can come later. Okay?”
No one argues, and we all stroll inside.
“I don’t understand,” Nikki says. “If they all show up, even if they come after Uncle Bentley’s done with his trial or whatever, how will he not immediately realize—”
But we’ve reached the courthouse doors, and I press hard enough to open them both at once. It’s a little sad that Nikki, at eleven, already knows that once they open, if court’s in session, she has to be quiet.
“Ah, the ladies of the day are here,” the judge says.
Nikki’s and Ricki’s eyes widen, and their heads swivel toward me. “Surprise,” I say.
“What’s going on?” Ricki asks.
“We thought you might like to be here today,” I say, “you know, for your formal adoption hearing.”
“For—what?” Nikki starts to sob.
Ricki tackles me, nearly knocking me over.
“But before the adoption,” I say, “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Me?” the judge says.
I shake my head, and after it becomes clear that I’m utterly unable to dislodge Ricki from her place around my waist, I just start walking, dragging her along like a very closely adhered barnacle. “I had a quick question for the younger Mr. Harrison, Your Honor.”
The judge, Bentley’s father, is smiling. “Go right ahead.”
“You already know the question,” I say to the judge. “Because I called last week to ask your permission to propose to your son.” And then I pull a ring out of my pocket. “This isn’t a Tiffany’s ring, because unlike your son, I can’t afford Tiffany’s.”
Bentley’s staring right at me, and he’s already beaming.
“I found this company called Staghead Designs, and they make the coolest wedding bands. It started with this family who made bands out of things they had around their property. Barn hinges. Old trees. Things that had meaning to those people in particular. Well, I had my parents’ wedding bands, which were both very simple, melted down, and they made them into a design they call fire-treated distressed, with a seascape finish.”
I hold out the box, and he takes it.
“You’ll see that the finish isn’t smooth and shiny. It’s a little rough, and a little weathered, just like me.”
Ricki has popped her head away from my side, finally, and she’s watching carefully. Nikki’s staring, too. She’s followed us along, like a little duckling trailing its mother. “I thought there might not be a better day than today to propose to you. Without you, I might not have recovered from losing my parents. Without you, I might not believe my happily ever after was ever coming. And without you, I might not have trusted that anyone would ever want the three of us—beautiful, but battered souls.”
“But I do want you. All three of you.” Bentley looks behind me. “Which is why your foster mom asked me to come today. She told me that the two of us could adopt the two of you. If you’ll have us.”
Nikki nods slowly, and Ricki beams. She detaches herself from me, and tackle-hugs Bentley.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bentley says. “And I’m hoping that you’re okay with my dad being the judge for the final hearing.”
“Of course,” I say. “But you never answered my question.”
“I need my ring back to do that.”
I pull it out of my bag. “I thought you might want it.”
Bentley pulls the blue lid off. “The moment I saw this ring in that store, I knew that I wanted you to have it. And I knew that I wanted to have you. Forever.”
“So that’s a yes?” I ask.
Bentley nods. “That’s a heck yes. And also, Merry Christmas, to the future Mrs. Harrison.”
“You know it’s like, way past Christmas, right?” Killian asks.
“Hush,” Seren says. “It’s their thing.”
“And for the record, that went way better than mine did,” Dave says from the back row.
The entire Fansee family starts to clap, then.
“You invited them all?” Bentley asks.
I shrug. “Not so much, but they don’t really wait for an invite.”
Bentley wraps one arm around my shoulders, and Nikki nestles in on his other side, by her barnacle sister. “Real family rarely does.”
“Well, I don’t feel as bad for crashing either, then.” Bentley’s mother ducks her head out from the door to the judge’s chambers, and she’s smiling.
And I notice for the first time that my future mother-in-law really is quite a heavy woman. I’ve known her for years. We’ve met three or four times at various large events, and I never once noticed that she’s the same size as I am.
Bentley was telling the truth.
Maybe he really doesn’t mind that I haven’t lost any weight yet. Maybe he loves me just as I am. He’s sliding the wedding band on his finger, and I stop him. “Hey, you’re not supposed to wear that yet.”
He tucks my ring in his pocket. “Oh, I don’t know about that. The person who proposes doesn’t wear one—the person who says yes does.”
Ricki lets go of him and straightens. “No, it’s the woman who’s supposed to wear an engagement ring.”
“Are you sure?” Bentley arches one eyebrow, but he pulls my ring back out and offers it to me. “How about we compromise?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“We can both wear one.”
“What about us?” Nikki asks. “Why don’t we get anything?”
“I think,” Judge Harrison says, “that after this is over, my wife and I should take you shopping and let you each pick one, too.”
Bentley’s mom claps. “Shopping with my granddaughters? This is the best day ever.”
“That sounds like a win win,” Bentley says.
Mrs. Harrison leans over the judge’s stand. “I hope you girls are ready to be spoiled. I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time..”
Bentley looks relieved, like he had no idea how his mother would react. It makes me a little sad that my mom’s not here. I know she’d be over the moon. Spending time with me was her greatest joy, always.. “I think Nikki and Ricki could use a little spoiling.”
“Two of the loveliest girls I’ve ever seen, and now they’re my grandchildren,” Mrs. Harrison says. “Just wait until my friends find out. They’ll be so jealous.”
Judge Harrison clears his throat. “Maybe we give Bentley and Barbara and the girls a little social space for now.”
Mrs. Harrison frowns, but she walks to the side and sits down. “Alright, well, carry on.”
And after that, Judge Harrison and our lawyer prove up the adoption, and Nikki and Ricki become our daughters. And in a few months, Bentley and I will stand in front of a pastor, and we’ll become spouses.
But to be honest, that’ll be extra.
Because our family feels pretty darn complete right in this moment.
* * *
*** I hope you LOVED Minted. If you’re wondering about the REST of their story—wedding, etc., don’t! This will be like my Finding Home series. I will have their wedding in the NEXT book, Loaded, which is Bea’s book! So hang on, and very soon, you’ll get to read more about Bentley and Barbara. <3
As a special incentive to join my newsletter, I did write a rather long BONUS chapter that shows how Beatrice joined the Fansee family. It has Dave, Seren, and Emerson, and I think you might really enjoy reading it. It’s EXCLUSIVE—you can only get it if you join my newsletter here.
Loaded is coming early in 2024. I hope you’re as excited to read about Emerson’s sister Bea as I am to write it.
* * *
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my husband, my kids, and my editor. I always thank all of you, and I always mean it. From the bottom of my heart.
Then I refocus on the sleaze. “I’m smart enough that I’m not going to pay you to sign those papers. You’re going to sign them because it’s the right thing to do.”
Mr. Creecher stands up, clearly ready to protest, but our salads arrive, as well as a basket of bread, and I guess he’s not quite ready to walk away. “Look here,” he says, once the waiter is gone. “I know what those girls are worth, and I’m not budging.”
He’s actually trying to sell them to me. I’m not sure what to say.
“The way I see it, I’m offering you a sweet discount.”
“A discount?” I’m worried I won’t be able to stop myself. “What on earth does that mean?”
“I know full well that they’ll make you a lot of money between now and when they turn eighteen, and I know you need to make some kinda profit, but I’m in a bind, see, and I need my cut now. I know that means I won’t get quite as much in the long run, but you’ll have the hassle of feeding them and buying them little duds to wear. So I feel like this is fair.”
“What amount, exactly, do you feel is fair?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars,” he says. “I know they got paid twenty grand for that commercial, cuz I called the company, and the lady let it spill.”
“She did.”
He nods. “So if they just do ten more commercials like that, you’ve gotten your money back.”
“But what about taxes?” I ask. “And their food and clothing is expensive. Not to mention the rent on an apartment, cars for them to drive, phones to use, etcetera. And there’s no guarantee they’ll get more commercials. Up until now, it’s just been a few hundred here and there for doing little videos on Instagram.”
Mr. Creecher’s smile is predatory. “Well, you’ll just have to decide if you think they’re worth the investment, I suppose. If they ain’t, I’m willing to risk it myself.”
That thought makes my blood run cold.
“I assume you have a checking account,” I say.
“You wanna make monthly payments?” He nods slowly. “Well, we could maybe—”
“No,” I say. “But I won’t pay you to sign the papers, as I mentioned.”
“Why not?” he asks. “If I sign these, you and that lady can adopt them. That’s what Alice said.”
“Whether Barbara adopts them or not is her business,” I say. “I’m just the boyfriend, but what I will pay you to do is apologize.”
“Apologize. . .” He frowns. “I don’t understand.”
I whip out my phone. “Tell me you have internet banking.”
Mr. Creecher nods. “I do. Course.”
“Well, after you swear to me that you’re going to apologize to those girls, you’re going to sign these papers in front of a notary public. My office manager will be here momentarily. You’re going to testify to her that you’re not being paid to do it. Do you understand me?”
Mr. Creecher frowns.
“And then, when she leaves, and the papers are in her care, you’re going to call on my phone and apologize to those girls for not being here when you heard their mother was sick. You’re going to tell them you’re sorry that you haven’t been in their life, and you’re going to promise that you won’t drag them down any more.”
“Now, wait just a second,” he says. “I woulda come if I coulda, but I had a lot going on in my life, and there was no way—”
“And then as soon as you’ve done that,” I say, “I will transfer two hundred thousand dollars into your account via my phone wire transfer app here. See?” I show him my account balance so he knows I can, and then I show him the transfer option. “And then, after that, you and I will never have another interaction. Are we clear?”
Our steaks arrive then, but by the time we’ve finished eating them, my office manager’s arrived, and Mr. Creecher does exactly as I told him to do. He signs the forms, and he insists, while my brilliant office manager video tapes him, that he wasn’t paid to sign. Once I have his notarized, unconditional surrender of parental rights, I feel much, much lighter. The only hiccup is that Barbara doesn’t answer when I call, so he’s forced to leave his apology on her voicemail. I decide that’s good enough. They can replay it as many times as they want.
And then, I transfer him the money.
While I’m paying the check for dinner, the man practically dances around—the clearance of funds has already come through on his phone. “You’re an interesting guy.” He laughs. “Actually, for someone so rich, you’re really stupid.”
“Is that so?” I walk out of the restaurant while he trots along behind me, smiling ear to ear.
“It is,” he says. “Your girlfriend must not tell you anything at all, because I lied to you, and you didn’t even know it.”
My stomach drops. Is he not really the girls’ father? Did he just sign forms that don’t really free those girls? I feel a little sick. Losing the money’s frustrating, but is there still some kind of piranha out there, waiting to try and bite those little girls? Waiting to attack Barbara?
“You really should talk to your girlfriend more.” He’s grinning very obnoxiously. It’s almost as bad as the Joker in Batman. “And there’s such a thing in the world known as haggling.”
“Haggling?” I’m really confused.
He starts to laugh so hard that he has tears running down his face. “Two hundred thousand dollars.” He shakes his head. “What an idiot.”
“Why am I an idiot?” I ask. “Because I still happen to think that’s a bargain to free those girls from someone like you.”
“I lied about that commercial. They only made five grand.” He wipes his eyes. “You, sir, were just duped.”
And that’s it.
I’ve hit my limit.
I ball up my fist and I punch the man right on the nose. I feel the crunch, so I know it’s good and broken. And that makes me grin even bigger than he just was. “Well, now we’re even. I gave you a big pile of money you don’t deserve, but you’re the real idiot. I’d have paid ten times as much, and you were too stupid to know it.”
He crumples into a heap on the ground, his hands covering his nose.
I crouch down beside him. “Ever heard of negotiation? The most fundamental principle of business is to know the value of what you have.” I stand. “And if you ever think about coming after me again, you should know that I have the best investigative team in the United States. They’ve already sent me three emails about you, with things they uncovered just during the time we were at dinner. One is a DUI you ran from in Alabama. One’s an assault charge on a misdemeanor in Tennessee. And one is charges pending against you for something to do with the disappearance of Jacqueline Pierce. Believe me when I say that if I ever see you again, Mr. Creecher, you’ll also be dealing with the authorities. And I’ll be sure to tell them how you extorted me for two hundred grand. Who do you think they’ll believe?”
When I walk away from Mr. Creecher, for what I assume will be the last time, I can’t help walking with a spring in my step. My hand might sting a bit, but overall, I feel really, really good.
17
Barbara
I’m not great at surprising people. In high school, I tried to surprise Seren with a trip to the beach. Only, during gym class, I noticed she had a swimsuit in her bag.
“Hey,” I said. “Why do you have a swimsuit?”
“You asked me about five things about the beach last week, so when my mom told me I should pack a bag to stay at your house this weekend, I kind of figured I’d need it.”
When I tried to surprise my parents on their anniversary, Mom walked into the party with full makeup on and her hair done.
“She knew,” I said to Dad.
He chuckled. “You left one of the invites in your car.”
I closed my eyes. “And she picked it up from the oil change place.”
I just can’t ever manage to keep all the details from leaking. It’s not my forte. But this time, I’m pretty sure I’ve kept the cat entirely tied up in that bag.
I’ve never really gotten that phrase, because, like, who wants to keep a cat in a bag? Wouldn’t it die? No one wants a dead cat, right? But anyway, I’ve done it. I’ve got a dead cat this time—I’m almost certain.
“Why is Bentley in court?” Ricki’s rummaging around in her backpack, looking for who knows what.
“Look, I told you guys that we’re going to the beach, but—”
“But he doesn’t know,” Nikki says. “You’ve already said, like eight times.”
“Well, he had some work he had to do, and part of it was at the courthouse, so this is where Oliver said he’d be.”
“Going to the beach to celebrate is cool, but proposing at the courthouse is kind of lame,” Nikki says. “You should’ve done that restaurant he likes.”
“Yeah,” Ricki says. “Courthouses are for depressing things, like being told that you’re being placed in a new home or, like, getting a divorce.” Ricki finally finds her lip gloss, and she punches her hand into the air over her head.
“Can we finally go in?” I ask. “I told you already—meeting him at the courthouse gives us a perfect excuse to dress really nice. He won’t have any inclination that I’m going to propose. He’ll think we’re here for a routine custody hearing or something, and he won’t be suspicious.”
“I guess,” Nikki says. “But it’s still a little annoying.”
As we’re walking toward the front door, Seren and Dave amble up.
“What are you two doing here?” I hiss.
“You thought we’d miss this?” Seren asks. “You came to ours.” She glances at the girls with big eyes.
“Oh my gosh,” Nikki says. “You invited the whole world.”
“It’s only my best friend,” I’m saying, when I see Emerson, Elizabeth, Killian, Ardath, and Bea walking toward us. “Seren,” I hiss.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “but when Bea heard—”
“Hey, Aunt Barbara.” Elizabeth glances at the girls. “I heard Uncle Bentley was going to be inside?”
“Look,” Nikki says. “If you all show up, he’ll know right away that she’s here to propose.”
And of course, Killian bursts out laughing. I want to kick him.
“Shut up, all of you,” I say. “The girls and I are going in first, and the rest of you can come later. Okay?”
No one argues, and we all stroll inside.
“I don’t understand,” Nikki says. “If they all show up, even if they come after Uncle Bentley’s done with his trial or whatever, how will he not immediately realize—”
But we’ve reached the courthouse doors, and I press hard enough to open them both at once. It’s a little sad that Nikki, at eleven, already knows that once they open, if court’s in session, she has to be quiet.
“Ah, the ladies of the day are here,” the judge says.
Nikki’s and Ricki’s eyes widen, and their heads swivel toward me. “Surprise,” I say.
“What’s going on?” Ricki asks.
“We thought you might like to be here today,” I say, “you know, for your formal adoption hearing.”
“For—what?” Nikki starts to sob.
Ricki tackles me, nearly knocking me over.
“But before the adoption,” I say, “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Me?” the judge says.
I shake my head, and after it becomes clear that I’m utterly unable to dislodge Ricki from her place around my waist, I just start walking, dragging her along like a very closely adhered barnacle. “I had a quick question for the younger Mr. Harrison, Your Honor.”
The judge, Bentley’s father, is smiling. “Go right ahead.”
“You already know the question,” I say to the judge. “Because I called last week to ask your permission to propose to your son.” And then I pull a ring out of my pocket. “This isn’t a Tiffany’s ring, because unlike your son, I can’t afford Tiffany’s.”
Bentley’s staring right at me, and he’s already beaming.
“I found this company called Staghead Designs, and they make the coolest wedding bands. It started with this family who made bands out of things they had around their property. Barn hinges. Old trees. Things that had meaning to those people in particular. Well, I had my parents’ wedding bands, which were both very simple, melted down, and they made them into a design they call fire-treated distressed, with a seascape finish.”
I hold out the box, and he takes it.
“You’ll see that the finish isn’t smooth and shiny. It’s a little rough, and a little weathered, just like me.”
Ricki has popped her head away from my side, finally, and she’s watching carefully. Nikki’s staring, too. She’s followed us along, like a little duckling trailing its mother. “I thought there might not be a better day than today to propose to you. Without you, I might not have recovered from losing my parents. Without you, I might not believe my happily ever after was ever coming. And without you, I might not have trusted that anyone would ever want the three of us—beautiful, but battered souls.”
“But I do want you. All three of you.” Bentley looks behind me. “Which is why your foster mom asked me to come today. She told me that the two of us could adopt the two of you. If you’ll have us.”
Nikki nods slowly, and Ricki beams. She detaches herself from me, and tackle-hugs Bentley.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bentley says. “And I’m hoping that you’re okay with my dad being the judge for the final hearing.”
“Of course,” I say. “But you never answered my question.”
“I need my ring back to do that.”
I pull it out of my bag. “I thought you might want it.”
Bentley pulls the blue lid off. “The moment I saw this ring in that store, I knew that I wanted you to have it. And I knew that I wanted to have you. Forever.”
“So that’s a yes?” I ask.
Bentley nods. “That’s a heck yes. And also, Merry Christmas, to the future Mrs. Harrison.”
“You know it’s like, way past Christmas, right?” Killian asks.
“Hush,” Seren says. “It’s their thing.”
“And for the record, that went way better than mine did,” Dave says from the back row.
The entire Fansee family starts to clap, then.
“You invited them all?” Bentley asks.
I shrug. “Not so much, but they don’t really wait for an invite.”
Bentley wraps one arm around my shoulders, and Nikki nestles in on his other side, by her barnacle sister. “Real family rarely does.”
“Well, I don’t feel as bad for crashing either, then.” Bentley’s mother ducks her head out from the door to the judge’s chambers, and she’s smiling.
And I notice for the first time that my future mother-in-law really is quite a heavy woman. I’ve known her for years. We’ve met three or four times at various large events, and I never once noticed that she’s the same size as I am.
Bentley was telling the truth.
Maybe he really doesn’t mind that I haven’t lost any weight yet. Maybe he loves me just as I am. He’s sliding the wedding band on his finger, and I stop him. “Hey, you’re not supposed to wear that yet.”
He tucks my ring in his pocket. “Oh, I don’t know about that. The person who proposes doesn’t wear one—the person who says yes does.”
Ricki lets go of him and straightens. “No, it’s the woman who’s supposed to wear an engagement ring.”
“Are you sure?” Bentley arches one eyebrow, but he pulls my ring back out and offers it to me. “How about we compromise?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“We can both wear one.”
“What about us?” Nikki asks. “Why don’t we get anything?”
“I think,” Judge Harrison says, “that after this is over, my wife and I should take you shopping and let you each pick one, too.”
Bentley’s mom claps. “Shopping with my granddaughters? This is the best day ever.”
“That sounds like a win win,” Bentley says.
Mrs. Harrison leans over the judge’s stand. “I hope you girls are ready to be spoiled. I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time..”
Bentley looks relieved, like he had no idea how his mother would react. It makes me a little sad that my mom’s not here. I know she’d be over the moon. Spending time with me was her greatest joy, always.. “I think Nikki and Ricki could use a little spoiling.”
“Two of the loveliest girls I’ve ever seen, and now they’re my grandchildren,” Mrs. Harrison says. “Just wait until my friends find out. They’ll be so jealous.”
Judge Harrison clears his throat. “Maybe we give Bentley and Barbara and the girls a little social space for now.”
Mrs. Harrison frowns, but she walks to the side and sits down. “Alright, well, carry on.”
And after that, Judge Harrison and our lawyer prove up the adoption, and Nikki and Ricki become our daughters. And in a few months, Bentley and I will stand in front of a pastor, and we’ll become spouses.
But to be honest, that’ll be extra.
Because our family feels pretty darn complete right in this moment.
* * *
*** I hope you LOVED Minted. If you’re wondering about the REST of their story—wedding, etc., don’t! This will be like my Finding Home series. I will have their wedding in the NEXT book, Loaded, which is Bea’s book! So hang on, and very soon, you’ll get to read more about Bentley and Barbara. <3
As a special incentive to join my newsletter, I did write a rather long BONUS chapter that shows how Beatrice joined the Fansee family. It has Dave, Seren, and Emerson, and I think you might really enjoy reading it. It’s EXCLUSIVE—you can only get it if you join my newsletter here.
Loaded is coming early in 2024. I hope you’re as excited to read about Emerson’s sister Bea as I am to write it.
* * *
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my husband, my kids, and my editor. I always thank all of you, and I always mean it. From the bottom of my heart.
