Bright Lights, Big Christmas(29)

“Hey, Murph!” the kid said as he braked. “Reporting for duty!”

“Vic, this is my sister Kerry. She’s helping me out this year.”

“Hello, ma’am,” the kid said, doing a stiff bow at the waist.

“Vic just got home from boarding school yesterday,” Murphy explained. “He’s gonna be delivering trees and doing whatever else we need for the next couple weeks.”

“Like an internship,” Vic said eagerly. He was maybe fourteen, at that loose-limbed gangly phase boys went through. He had white-blond hair cut short to the scalp, and just the slightest shadow of what might someday be a beard.

Kerry turned to her brother. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.”

“Alone.”

Murphy scratched his beard and groaned. “Hey, Vic, why don’t you start loading one of those trees there on your wagon. Okay, sport?”

While they were alone, Kerry unloaded on her brother.

“I can’t believe you have the nerve to show up here half dead and hungover. You said it’s our busiest day—and I’ve been working here all by myself. Also, I was worried about you. You couldn’t have called?”

Her brother blinked and dug in his pocket, bringing out his cell phone. “Sorry. It’s dead.”

“Figures,” she said. “Mom called me and woke me up at seven this morning. I had to lie to cover up for you.”

“What’d Mom want?”

“She wants to talk to you. I think she’s being deliberately evasive.”

“About what?”

“What else? Dad’s health.”

“Did you ask her how he’s feeling?”

“She says he’s okay, but I think she just doesn’t want me to worry about him.”

“Then don’t,” Murphy said. “They’re adults, Kerry. They can take care of themselves. Now, if there’s nothing else, I gotta get some sleep.”

“What about the kid?” she demanded. “We can’t afford to pay a helper, especially since our sales are off.” She pointed at the Brodys’ bustling stand. “They’re killing us.”

“Relax. We’re not paying Vic. He works for tips.” He massaged his temples again.

“You get tips?” Kerry had wondered why Murphy never complained about all the deliveries he had to make, and now she knew.

“Of course. This is New York City. Nobody works for free.”

“Like, how much?”

“Ground-floor apartment, around ten bucks. Unless it’s a rich old lady. They’re usually the cheapest. They open their wallets and moths fly out. If I gotta carry the tree up a couple flights of stairs, maybe twenty. The higher the floor, the higher the tip.”

“Susannah said you set up both her trees when you got to her apartment. She was very grateful.”

“Very, very grateful. She gave me fifty bucks, even though there’s an elevator in her building.”

Kerry decided not to mention the hundred-dollar tip she’d received for her custom-made wreath.





chapter 21





Vic arrived at the Tolliver Tree Farm stand on Monday, promptly at eight o’clock—or “oh eight hundred” as he called it. He was neat and clean and cheerful, and Kerry was none of these things. The day was cold and gray, like her mood.

Kerry had already fed Queenie. “I’m going to the flower market to pick up some supplies. I should be back in an hour or so, but if I’m not back by nine, go ahead and open up the stand. I don’t expect we’ll have much business on a Monday morning, but hopefully I’m wrong. The trees are all priced.” She pulled the cashbox from beneath the work table and unlocked it.

“There’s enough cash in here to make change. No checks, and no credit cards though.”

“Understood, ma’am. Cash only.”

Kerry had to smile at his enthusiasm. “Anybody has any questions, call me. Do not, unless your hair is on fire, wake up Murphy. He’s kind of a bear in the mornings.”

“Yes, ma’am. What else can I do?”

“You could walk Queenie a little bit, but don’t venture too far, just to the end of the block and back.”

She cast a wary eye at the now-deserted Brody brothers’ tree stand.

“Watch out for those two dudes across the street,” she advised.

Vic’s easygoing expression darkened in an instant, his spine straightening, his eyes narrowing. “Do you think they’re armed?”

“What? No! I mean, just watch they don’t try any funny business—like trying to steal our customers.”

Kerry scribbled her cell phone number on a slip of paper and handed it to him. “Call me if you have any questions.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He did everything but snap a salute.



* * *



The hundred-dollar tip from Susannah emboldened Kerry to spend a little more freely at the flower market. She added rolls of wide red wired ribbon, and on impulse, a case of battery-operated twinkle lights. Then she popped into a nearby deli for breakfast: a bagel for her and a bacon, egg, and cheese roll for Vic.

He was bustling around the tree stand when she got back. “I sold two trees,” he said excitedly. “But I told them I couldn’t deliver until you returned.”