February 1991 – Three years old
Catherine left Sophia and Olivia in Thomas's more capable hands while she took care of what she viewed as an urgent matter. When she'd arrived back at Laura and Remington's Holmby Hills home nearly four hours later, Fred followed her through the front door carrying a half dozen bags, before he'd made a second trip to the limo to return with another load. Thomas merely graced his wife with a patient smile, knowing their credit card balance had just been delivered a serious blow. After all, who was he, in his mind's eye, to deny his wife such a simple pleasure?
"The children?" Catherine asked simply, as she brushed her lips to her husband' cheek.
"Just roused a few minutes ago. I've sent them off to use the facilities, wash their hands," he supplied.
Indeed, two tousled-hair little girls, one tow-headed, the other raven-haired, came prancing down the stairs not two minutes later, the former far more sedate than the vivacious latter. Olivia, upon seeing Catherine had returned, ran across the room and threw herself into her cherished grandmother's lap.
"You weren't here for nap," Livvie observed, a hint of accusation in her voice.
"If you recall, I said I'd do my best, but I'm afraid I needed just a bit more time," Catherine explained. "Would you care to see what I was about?" Livvie nodded solemnly at her. "Then off you get," Catherine declared, easing her small granddaughter to the floor before she stood and retrieved the first set of bags from the dining table. Livvie's eyed her grandmother questionably when the bags were set before her, then, understanding, she clapped with glee.
"Presents!?" she half-asked, half-announced.
"Indeed, they are," Catherine confirmed before making another trip to the table. "For you…" she set another selection of bags before Sophie, who watched her with wide-eyed uncertainty, "…And for Sophie." Sophie stared at the bags for long seconds before lifting her eyes to Catherine, seeking reassurance.
"For me?" she verified, wistfully. Someone other than her mother or Santa Claus giving her a present was a difficult concept for her understand as It had simply never happened before.
"Yes, all for you," Catherine again confirmed, with another smile. The three-year-old's brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of it.
"Is it my birthday?" she finally ventured, hesitantly. This caught Olivia's attention and her eyes snapped upwards to gaze intently at her grandmother.
"I want cake and ice cream!" she announced hopefully.
"It's not Sophie's birthday, lovie," Catherine corrected, running a fond hand over Olivia's hair, while Olivia giggled at the appellation. "Sometimes Grans' like to get their grandchildren presents for no reason other than to bring a smile to their faces."
"But I don't got a Grans," Sophie pointed out. Catherine shifted forward to perch on the edge of the couch to cup Sophie's cheek in her hand.
"You do now," she told the little girl, quietly.
"A granddad, as well, if you'd like," Thomas added.
Sophie cocked her head to the side, judging, as best a little girl like she could, the sincerity of their words. Whatever it was she was looking for she appeared to find, for she shoved the parcels aside, and standing, held out her arms to Catherine. With moist eyes, Catherine lifted the little blonde into her lap, gladly embracing her.
Together they watched as Olivia removed each dress, each outfit, every pair of tights and shoes from her bags, neither all too concerned with what was nestled in Sophie's bags. They had, after all, found something far more valuable: For Sophie, another person, another connection that helped make her feel more secure… safer… in these tumultuous times; and, for Catherine, another child to shower with all the love she'd once imagined she'd bestow upon her own children one day.