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“Are you serious?” She looks at me with wide eyes.

“I hope the selection is to your liking,” I say, taking her hand and kissing the inside of her wrist.

She shakes her head in disbelief, but there’s a smile on her face.

We walk up the staircase together.

“Your clothes are in our bedroom closet,” I say. “I’ll help the kids get ready in the meantime.”

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” I ask.

“We’ll be fine,” I say, dropping her off at our bedroom and then walking to the kid’s room.

As soon as I step inside, I can feel the tenseness of the atmosphere.

Rosalie is in tears, andJames’s face is red.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, immediately rushing to their side.

Rosalie cries harder when she hears the softness of my voice.

“She’s upset that none of her old clothes are here,” James explains.

“We have new clothes, sweetheart,” I say.

“It’s not the same.” She sniffles.

“Clothes don’t matter,” I say. “They’re not important.”

“Yes, theyare,” she screams. “The pink dress that Mom bought for me isn’t here. These aren’t my clothes. These aren’t my things.”

I take a deep breath.

I can’t be callous about this just because I’m not attached to my own clothes. For me, clothes are just something I wear. For Rosalie, they’re a memory. They represent something.

I sit down in front of her.

I let her cry until she’s all out of tears.

These kids have lost so much already. They lost even more in the fire. They deserve to grieve.

“I’m sorry, Rosalie,” I say, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” she says, leaning into my touch. “It’s not your fault, Uncle Klaus.”

“What’s important is that we still have each other,” I say. “That’s the most important thing.”

She nods. “I know.”

“Material things will come and go, but it’s always the people who matter most,” I say. “Nothing’s more important than family.”

“Ohana means family,” James whispers, quoting one of his favorite movies. “Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.”

“That’s right, buddy,” I say. “And the three of us are family, okay?”

“Miss Turner, too,” Rosalie adds.

“Yes, Emma is family, too,” I say.