“Suspiciously.”
She smiled.
The Biker approached.
He began picking up dolls.
The Cashier handed him a cart.
He frowned.
“Learned from last year.”
He took the cart.
“Twelve?”
“Twelve.”
At the register, the Biker removed the cash envelope.
The Cashier scanned the first doll.
Beep.
Then she said:
“Thirteen.”
He stopped.
“What?”
She placed another doll on the counter.
The Biker frowned.
“I buy twelve.”
“I know.”
“Promise is twelve.”
“I know.”
“Then what’s that?”
The Cashier reached into her bag.
Removed something.
Her old blue-dress doll.
The Biker froze.
She placed it carefully on the counter.
“I’m not giving this away.”
“Good.”
She smiled.
“But I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
The Cashier ignored him.
“She had twelve birthdays.”
“Yes.”
“You buy twelve dolls.”
“Yes.”
“But there are more than twelve girls there now.”
He knew.
The home had expanded.
Sixteen girls that year.
The Biker looked uncomfortable.
“I bring other gifts.”
“I know.”
The Cashier continued.
“So this year…”
She touched the thirteenth new doll.
“That one is from me.”
The Biker stared.
“Why?”
“Because your daughter gave me one birthday.”
His eyes filled.
The Cashier smiled.
“I can lend it forward.”
The Biker looked down.
Then nodded.
“Thirteen.”
The following year, there were fourteen.
Not because the Biker changed his promise.
He always bought twelve.
The Cashier bought one.
The Manager bought another.
Then the Nurse from the Biker’s club heard.
She bought two.
The Vice President complained that princess dolls were “outside his purchasing expertise.”
He donated money anyway.
Soon the annual visit changed.
The twelve dolls remained central.
Always from the Biker.
Always on his daughter’s birthday.
But around them grew other gifts.
Books.
Art supplies.
Sports gear.
Headphones.
Journals.
Gift cards.
Things chosen based on what the girls actually wanted.
The Biker became nervous that his daughter’s ritual was turning into an organization.
The Cashier laughed.
“Too late.”
“I don’t want a foundation.”
“Fine.”
“No charity gala.”
“Fine.”
“No speeches.”
“Fine.”
“No matching T-shirts.”