“I’m sure it will. Anything I can help with?”
I nodded. “Forks are in there. Belle get the napkins, and Bridget grab the plates.”
Dinner with Keri was enjoyable, and the more time I spent with the child the more I understood why my girls loved her. She was smart and funny, and plainspoken, so you always knew where you stood with her. “Is everyone good? Need salt or pepper or anything?”
Keri shook her head. “I’m super impressed with your culinary skills Mrs. Berryman. You’re a wonderful chef,” she enthused, a small stain of tomato sauce around her mouth.
I laughed and accepted the compliment delivered in such a mature manner. “I’d call myself a home cook rather than a chef, but I appreciate the sentiment all the same Keri.”
“Momma always said never downplay your talents, and I think you cook very well Mrs. B.”
“Your Momma was a smart lady.”
Keri shrugged. “She wasn’t book smart, but she had lots of wisdom.” Her eyes filled with sadness for a long moment, but Keri was stronger than she knew, and shook off the sadness like a pro. “How did you know you liked the clothes you like, Mrs. B?”
I blinked at the question. “Um, I guess I just kind of gravitated to a certain type of clothing over the years and that became my aesthetic.” It was curious that Keri dressed so shabbily. It wasn’t a judgment, but rather an observation. It was even odder considering her uncle had money and had worked in fashion. “It took me a long time, whereas my girls seemed to know right away.”
“My style is functional,” Belle added proudly.
“I like to be trendy,” Bridget offered with a smile.
“Some people are just naturals when it comes to fashion, Keri.”
“But not you,” she asked hesitantly.
“Not me.”
“Me either,” she said with relief. “My momma could just grab a pearl snap top and a pair of jeans and look like she was headin’ to the Met Gala. Even in a dress, I look like I’ve been playing in the mud all day.” It didn’t seem to bother Keri all that much, but I guessed she wanted to look more put together.
“You always look good, Keri. Tomboy cute,” Bridget offered.
“Comfy,” Belle added.
“I thank y’all for saying so, but I don’t look good like you all do, and I don’t know how.”
She seemed so disappointed it was almost heartbreaking. “Keri, you’re ten years old, and when these two were your age, I picked out most of their clothes for them.”
“I’m only ten, sure, but we’re in the same grade. I have to keep up with my classmates not my age mates.”
“You don’t have to keep up with anyone when it comes to your clothes, Keri. You’re young, and what you like in terms of fashion will change several times over the years.”
“You could come shopping with us, can’t she Mom?” The idea of an impromptu shopping trip had Bridget’s green eyes glittering with excitement.
“That’s a kind offer. I think Uncle Trey only knows about fashion for men with muscles and beanpole women, not regular girls.”
Her words surprised another laugh out of me. “He’ll learn Keri, just give him some time.”
“That’s true,” she agreed. “You’ve been a mom for a lot longer than he’s been a dad. And you’re a girl to boot. I’ll be patient,” she decided and went back to her Bolognese.
I smiled, thinking that Trey had has hands full with Keri. With her intelligence and maturity, he’d be in over his head in just a few years. Not that I wished that on anyone, but a guy like Trey who had everything going for him could use a challenge in his life.
Even if she was just four feet tall.
Chapter 6
Trey
“I don’t know why you didn’t just let Mrs. Berryman take me shopping, Uncle Trey. You seem miserable.”
Keri looked up at me with her hands on her hips, more exasperated than a ten year old had any right to be.
I sighed and stared my niece down. “Because I’m perfectly capable of helping you pick out clothes. I only did this for longer than you’ve been alive.” And because I didn’t want Valona to think I couldn’t perform even the most basic duties for Keri. It’s how I ended up spending my afternoon at the mall instead of at home trying to figure out my future. “And I’m not miserable, just surprised that ninety minutes in you haven’t picked out so much as a t-shirt.”
“I’m trying to figure out what I like.” So she’d said, at least a dozen times already.
“How about this?” I grabbed a dark blue denim dress with distressed metal buttons. “It’s country meets city and cute.”
Keri crinkled her nose at the dress like it was covered in dog poop. It went on and on just like that. Every item I held up, she instantly disliked. “It’s not me.”