Bright Lights, Big Christmas(18)

The woman loudly cleared her throat. “Ahh-hemm.”

“Hi,” Kerry said. “I hear you’re looking for a wreath?”

“Among other things,” the woman said. “My neighbor bought one from you earlier in the week. I’d like something very similar, only with white berries instead of red, some of those dried flowers like hers had, but with purple ribbon.”

“Oh-kay…” Kerry glanced down at the card table she’d come to regard as her workshop. She’d sold at least two dozen wreaths this week and her supplies were dwindling. She had some dried rose hips, a couple sprigs of mistletoe, but she was totally out of ribbon. She needed to make a trip to the flower market again, but there wouldn’t be time today.

“I don’t really have the materials to make a wreath like you want,” she said. “But if you come back Monday afternoon, after I’ve had a chance to restock…”

The woman shook her head vigorously. “Monday’s too late. I’m hosting my book club Christmas brunch Sunday. And I need trees and wreaths and garlands…”

“But that’s tomorrow,” Kerry pointed out.

“That’s the point,” the redhead said. She marched over to the stack of ten-foot trees and held one out. “I need a pair of these. But they need to be identical, because they go on either side of the fireplace in the living room.” She picked up a roll of fir garland that Kerry had spent the previous day crafting. Her fingertips were still sore and full of minute pricks from the sticky needles.

“How long is this?” the woman asked.

“Um. Maybe thirty feet?”

“I need twice that much, but I’ll take what you have,” the woman said, turning to look around the tree stand. She pointed at a three-foot tree. “One of those, for the buffet table.”

Kerry grabbed a receipt book and began jotting down the woman’s purchases. The trees alone came to nearly seven hundred dollars. She hadn’t calculated the price for the garland, but quickly decided the labor-intense project was easily worth one hundred and fifty.

“Anything else?”

“That should do it.” The woman rummaged in her oversized Louis Vuitton handbag, drew out a credit card, and handed it to Kerry. “You take cards, right?”

“We do,” Kerry said. “Just a moment, please.”

She plugged the square into her cell phone and swiped the woman’s card.

“That’s one thousand, one hundred and sixty dollars,” she told the woman.

“Including the wreath?”

“Well, no, since I don’t have the materials to make one today.”

“But you could get the materials, right? And make the wreath before tomorrow morning?”

Kerry paused. It was nearly nine A.M. now. She didn’t dare wake Murphy to ask him to watch the stand while she made a trek to the wholesale flower market. And he’d pitch a fit if she closed up the stand on a Saturday morning, which should be their best day of business.

“I really wish I could,” she told the customer. “But I’m working alone this morning.”

The woman frowned and fidgeted with a lock of her hair. “I really, really need that wreath. The brunch starts at eleven.”

“I don’t know. The wholesale flower market closes at noon today…”

“Then forget it,” the redhead snapped. “Just cancel out the transaction. I’ll find someone else—”

“Wait,” Kerry said. She couldn’t just let a sale this big walk away. “I’ll figure it out. White berries, dried flowers. Purple ribbon, right? What size wreath?”

“The biggest one you have,” the woman said.

“That’s a twenty-eight-inch wreath,” Kerry said. She took a deep breath. “It’ll probably cost around one twenty-five.”

The woman waved her hand carelessly. “Whatever. In the meantime, you deliver, right? I’m in the neighborhood. Just a few blocks over.”

“Uh, my brother does the deliveries, but he’s not here right now…”

“He’ll be back soon, right? My assistant is coming at noon to start decorating.”

Kerry glanced nervously at the trailer, where she could hear Murphy’s muffled snores.

“I’ll take care of it,” Kerry said, handing her the receipt book. “Just write your name and address on the top here, and your phone number.”

“I’m Susannah,” the redhead said. “Don’t forget. Noon.”



* * *



The morning passed in a blur. The weather cleared, the sun came out, but she estimated that the temperature hovered in the twenties. People streamed in and out of Anna’s, coffees in hand, ready to pick out their tree. Customers arrived by cab and by bus. Most took their trees with them, but at least half a dozen were added to the pile for Murphy to deliver. She chatted with neighbors asking about Jock and her brother, and she assured them that her father was on the mend, and Murphy was only napping.

At ten, Patrick and Austin joined the crowd.

“Here,” Austin said, handing her a foil-wrapped package. “We made this for you.”

Patrick’s lips twitched with a barely suppressed smile.

Kerry peeled back the foil and peered at the contents. A fat, roundish brown blob inside oozed a thick red fluid.