“Yes,” Regina agreed, “too much nostalgia for me. This actually has me thinking about downloading the Xanadu soundtrack on my iPod.”

            “Don’t bother, I probably have the eight-track,” I offered, grinning.

            I had begun to follow them out when I noticed that Daphne was still holding my cherished Terriers windbreaker. A sense of warmth filled me that had nothing to do with the stifling conditions of the attic.

            “Would you like that?” I asked her, signing along with my words. “You can have it. I mean, it’s still in good shape and besides that . . .” I narrowed my eyes and grinned, “it’s vintage.”

            She gave me her sweetest smile. “I’d love to have it,” she said. “Thank you.”

            I held the door for her, and when she left the attic, I glanced back at the boxes containing the best parts of my childhood.

            In another world, I would have taken Daphne to the club for “Toddler Tennis”; I’d have bought her pretty little tennis dresses and matching hair ties, and I’d have taught her the secret of my mighty serve that had brought the Terrriers so many victories all those years ago.

            But none of that had happened. I think maybe that’s why she asked me for my jacket—as a way to make up for those lost moments.

            Or maybe she just liked the idea that it was vintage and she’d get some laughs out of the whole Terrier thing.

            I didn’t know and I didn’t care. It was a connection and I’d take it.

            Gladly.