Bright Lights, Big Christmas(32)

“You getting paid for that?”

“As you pointed out, this is the city. Nobody does anything for free. I’m charging them seventy-five an hour with a two-hour minimum, and they didn’t bat an eye.”

“That’s crazy,” he declared.





chapter 23





Kerry opened her laptop to check her email. She’d posted her contact information in an online forum for freelance designers, hoping to snag a new account, but her in-box was depressingly empty.

She’d invoiced another client before leaving town, but there was no reply. Since she was living rent-free with Birdie, things weren’t dire yet, but they would be soon if she didn’t line up more work.

“Okay, Austin,” Kerry said, setting her laptop aside and opening the sketchbook. “Where were we?”

“In the forest of Christmas trees,” Austin prompted. “And the birds and squirrels were my friends.”

On impulse, she added a large, elaborate wrought-iron gate to the drawing she’d made previously, with a leafy vine curling around it. Trees and bushes crowded up against the other side of the gate.

“What’s that?” Austin asked.

“I was thinking, it’s the gate to a magical, mysterious forest kingdom, right in the middle of the city.”

“But it should be a secret forest. That nobody else knows about but me. And I have the key.”

“I like it,” Kerry said.

“You like what?”

Patrick smiled down at them. He was carrying two foam carry-out cups. “Who wants hot chocolate?”

“Me!” Austin said, eagerly grabbing one of the cups. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

“Your mom called and asked me to come pick you up.”

“I can’t leave yet. Me and Kerry are working on our story.”

“Kerry and I,” he corrected. “Can I take a peek?”

“We were just goofing off,” Kerry said, feeling awkward and self-conscious around Patrick. He beamed as he looked down at the drawings, and she noticed the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and that he needed a shave, and that he had a mole in precisely the same place as Robert Redford, whom she’d crushed on years ago the first of dozens of times she’d watched Birdie’s DVD of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

“These are great,” Patrick said. “Let’s go back to the apartment. It’s getting cold, and it’s going to be dinnertime pretty soon.”

Austin’s face fell for a moment, but then he perked back up. “I know. Kerry can come to dinner with us, and then we can keep drawing our story.”

“Good idea,” Patrick said, turning to Kerry. “How about it?”

“I’d love to, but I’m afraid I’ve got to work tonight.” She glanced at her phone and was startled to see it was nearly five. “In fact, I need to leave as soon as Murphy gets back.”

Patrick looked as disappointed as his son. “Another time then, okay? So I can properly thank you for babysitting Austin.”

“No need to thank me. We had fun today. To tell you the truth, I’ve missed seeing him for the past couple days.”

He raised one eyebrow. “What about me?”

“Okay, yes. I’ve missed both of you.” She was annoyed to realize she was blushing.

Patrick looked pleased and then turned serious, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard. “I have to apologize for Gretchen. I can’t believe she just … dumped our son off with you and then fled. She had no right…”

Kerry touched his arm. “She was obviously in a bind. And I’m happy we got to spend time with Austin. He’s such a funny, entertaining little guy. He can hang out with us anytime.”

“He clearly adores you and Murphy. And what about that dinner? Can we set a date?”

“Uh…” She knew she was blushing again. “Anytime you like. It’s not like I’ve got a crowded social calendar.”

“Friday night, then? Around seven? Guess I know where to pick you up, right?”

“Right.” She hesitated. “Can we make it someplace casual?”

“Casual it is,” he said. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

The kiss didn’t escape Austin’s sharp eyes. “Dad! Let’s go. I’m hungry.”





chapter 24





“Murphy.” Kerry shook her brother’s shoulder. He’d fallen asleep in his lawn chair, swaddled in his sleeping bag, and was softly snoring. The fire in the barrel had gone out sometime during the night, and the worktable was littered with empty Red Bull cans, foam coffee cups, and the remains of a bucket of takeout fried chicken.

“Ugh.” She threw all of it into the trash. It was early, just past seven, so she decided to let him sleep while she ran to the Kaplans’ apartment for a quick shower.

Murphy was awake when she returned. “What happened to my fried chicken?”

“I threw it out, along with all your other trash.”

“That was gonna be my breakfast,” he groused. “How did last night go? You never said.”

“You never asked,” she pointed out. By the time she’d gotten back to the stand the night before, Murphy and a couple pals were sitting around the fire, passing around a Mason jar of Jock Tolliver’s moonshine, while Murphy played his dobro.