Gideon stared at it.
“Why?”
“Because someday I want to give it to my daughter.”
Gideon smiled.
“That would be a long time from now.”
“I know.”
He looked at the doll.
Then at Sophie.
“Then I'll keep it safe.”
Ten years later, Gideon stood outside a hospital.
He was older now.
Seventy.
His beard was completely white.
His motorcycle had become almost legendary among the local riders.
But he still wore the same leather vest.
He still had the same enormous hands.
And he still carried a princess doll in his saddlebag.
He was waiting.
A nurse came through the doors.
“Mr. Cole?”
Gideon stood.
“Yes?”
“Your granddaughter is ready.”
He smiled.
He entered the room.
Sophie was sitting in bed.
Beside her was her newborn daughter.
Gideon stopped.
For several seconds, he couldn't speak.
Sophie smiled.
“Grandpa.”
He walked toward her.
“She has your eyes.”
Gideon laughed.
“I hope not.”
Sophie smiled.
“What are you going to call her?”
“We haven't decided.”
Gideon looked at the baby.
She opened her tiny eyes.
He touched her hand.
“She needs a princess name.”
Sophie laughed.
“Of course you would say that.”
Gideon opened his saddlebag.
He removed the old Cinderella doll.
Sophie stared.
“You still have it.”
“I promised.”
She began crying.
Gideon smiled.
“Don't start.”
“You kept it for thirty years.”
“I keep my promises.”
She took the doll.
Then she placed it beside her daughter.
Gideon looked at the newborn.
“Your grandmother was a princess.”
Sophie nodded.
“So was your mother.”
She smiled.
“And now?”
Gideon looked at the baby.
“Now we have another one.”
Years later, the toy store where Gideon had first bought the dolls closed.
The town changed.
Buildings were demolished.
New stores appeared.
People moved away.
Children grew up.
But the story remained.
Gideon never expected that buying a collection of princess dolls would become the defining story of his life.
He thought he was simply keeping a promise to a grieving little girl.
But promises rarely remain as small as the people who make them imagine.
That first shopping trip had become a tradition.
The tradition had become a charity.
The charity had become an annual event.
And the annual event had helped thousands of children receive toys during difficult times.
The motorcycle club continued the Princess Ride long after Gideon stopped leading it.
Every year, hundreds of riders arrived with toys.
Some carried dolls.
Some carried stuffed animals.
Some carried books.