Bright Lights, Big Christmas(25)

Kerry popped a tiny Napoleon in her mouth and nearly moaned in ecstasy. She looked around to make sure she couldn’t be seen, then loaded half a dozen of the pastries into a paper napkin, which she was in the process of stashing in her shoulder bag when a husky voice whispered in her ear.

“I saw that.”

Startled, she jumped and dropped a strawberry tartlet onto the Oriental carpet. She whirled around to see Patrick, standing directly behind her.

“Hmm. Grand theft cannoli?”

Her face went crimson. “Guilty as charged. Okay? I haven’t had time to eat today, and tomorrow morning’s not looking good, either.”

Wordlessly, he turned to the buffet table, then made a show of scooping a handful of cookies into a damask dinner napkin, which he carefully folded and stowed in his jacket pocket.

“Guess that makes me an accessory to the crime,” he said, folding his hands innocently at his waist.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Kerry said, picking up the errant tartlet and depositing it on a stack of used dishes.

“Well then, since that makes us co-conspirators, can I fetch you a drink?” He pointed to her empty champagne flute.

Kerry considered. “Maybe just a small glass of white wine? I don’t dare drink two glasses of champagne. Gotta open the stand bright and early in the morning.”

Patrick went through a swinging door into what she assumed was the kitchen and returned a minute later with a half-full wineglass.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip. The wine was nicely chilled and very good. She could get used to this kind of life.

Patrick had a cut glass tumbler filled with what looked and smelled like bourbon. He clinked his glass against hers. He nodded in the direction of the living room, where Murphy and Claudia were huddled in a corner, standing very close together.

Kerry followed his gaze and laughed. “I think he’s smitten.” She raised her glass to her lips and emptied it. “I better go.”

“Already?” Patrick’s face fell. “It’s barely nine o’clock.” He gestured toward the living room. “I was thinking we could kind of hang out for a while, since it’s Gretchen’s night to have Austin.”

“Wish I could,” she said, meaning it.

“Then I’ll walk you home,” Patrick said, putting his glass down.

She almost protested but changed her mind. “That’d be nice.”





chapter 18





Patrick and Kerry were crossing the street when they saw a young couple standing hand in hand, peering into the roped-off Christmas tree stand.

“Hey,” the man called as they approached. “Are you guys open?”

“We are now,” Kerry said. Even one more tree sold today would help the bottom line.

She unfastened the bungee cord and gestured for the two to enter. Patrick sat down in Murphy’s vacant lawn chair.

The girl gestured toward Spammy. “I love the little trailer. So adorable! Does somebody actually live in it?”

“Two somebodies,” Kerry said. “And a dog. Right up until Christmas Eve.”

“Oooh! Like something out of a fairy tale,” the girl squealed.

“More like a horror story,” Kerry said, as she was sizing the couple up for their tree-buying potential.

She estimated that they were in their early twenties. The girl could have been a model for skiwear, with a pink knitted beanie pulled over her long blond hair, a white quilted jacket, and skinny jeans tucked into fur-trimmed suede boots. Her partner was also dressed for the slopes. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and had a glorious mop of strawberry-blond curls.

“This might sound kinda creepy, but is there any way I could look inside your camper?”

“Ashley, no. That’s definitely super creepy,” the boyfriend said.

The girl flashed a winsome smile. “Please?”

“It’s a big mess inside,” Kerry protested. “I’m living with a slob, and his dog sheds. And I was getting ready for a party…”

“No judgment,” Ashley promised. “Just a peek?”

Kerry sighed, then climbed up and opened the trailer door. Queenie, who’d been dozing on Murphy’s bunk, gave a short, quizzical bark, then stood and squeezed past the visitor.

Ashley poked her head inside. “It’s pink! And turquoise! And that teensy kitchen! Does it actually work?”

“Not in a long time,” Kerry told her.

“Does it have a name?”

“My mom named her Spammy; you know, because it looks like a canned ham,” Kerry said.

“Ash? I thought we were buying a tree.” The boyfriend’s voice sounded a warning.

“Oh, right.”

She did a quick circle around the lot. “Ooh, Shaun, look at this one.” She pointed at a ten-foot tree.

Her partner shook his head and laughed. “Babe, that thing is as big as the tree at Rockefeller Plaza. How are we gonna drag that up three flights of stairs?”

“But it’s so pretty,” she protested.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Think smaller.”

She circled the lot, pulling out and sizing up trees, for the next ten minutes.

Kerry didn’t bother to suppress a yawn.