Bright Lights, Big Christmas(39)

Kerry found a bottle of bourbon in a brand she’d never seen before and poured a couple fingers of the amber liquid into a crystal rocks glass. She went to the kitchen in search of ice, and returned to the living room, drawn immediately to the wall of windows.

She sat on the window seat and gazed out at the scene below. The old-fashioned streetlights shone down on the square, where people strolled past, stopping to look at Spammy and the lit-up Christmas trees in the stand. Diners were coming and going from Lombardi’s, and a couple sat on the bench outside Anna’s, cuddled close together against the cold. Looking past the tops of the trees in the park, she spotted the Empire State Building, lit up in red and green. Buses and cars rumbled past on Hudson Street, and even the sound of a far-off siren made the bustle and rush of the city seem enchanting and exciting.

A door closed softly behind her and a minute later, Patrick joined her on the window seat, sitting so close their shoulders touched. “What are you looking at?”

“All this.” She gestured to the scene below. “The city, the neighborhood. You’ve got quite a view here. I can see why you didn’t want to give up this apartment.”

“Yeah. Austin loves it here too. Most mornings, he sits right here, eating his Pop-Tarts for breakfast. He loves watching you and Murphy setting up the stand in the mornings.”

“Pop-Tarts?” Kerry gave a look of mock horror. “Does his mom know you’re feeding that junk to her son?”

“Pfft. They’re fruit, right?”

“I got addicted to Pop-Tarts my freshman year of college,” Kerry confided. “My mom is kind of a health-food nut. She was appalled the first time I came home for the holidays with a box of Pop-Tarts in my backpack.”

“Sounds like you and your mom are pretty close,” he observed.

“We’re total opposites, but she loves and accepts who I am, and I’m so lucky that she does.”

“What will you do, when all the Christmas trees are sold?” he asked, sliding an arm around her shoulder. “Will you go back to … what’s the name of the town?”

“Tarburton. For the short run, until I can figure out my next move. The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t want to live there permanently.”

“Really? You make it sound so idyllic, the farm, the mountains, the apple trees…”

“What’s that people say about New York City—a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there? That’s how I feel about Tarburton. I don’t fit in there. I never did.”

She felt the prick of tears. The thought of going back to the stifling confines of the tiny town in the mountains filled her with dread.

Patrick placed his hand under her chin and gently turned her face toward his. “I hope you don’t go,” he murmured, as his lips met hers. “Not anytime soon.”

Kerry kissed him back. “Let’s not talk about it,” she whispered. “Carpe diem, right?”

“Dad?” Austin’s voice echoed through the apartment. “We didn’t read our story.”

“Not tonight, buddy,” Patrick said, but Kerry touched his arm. “It’s okay. I need to get up early anyway. I’ll let myself out.” She kissed him lightly. “To be continued?”





chapter 29





Murphy’s truck was double-parked in front of Spammy with the motor running. He was emerging from the trailer as she walked up. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“I was just getting ready to call you. I’m heading back to the farm.”

“Right now?” She was incredulous. “For real? You don’t want to wait till morning?”

“If I leave now, I can be there by sunrise, load the truck, and deadhead it back here by Sunday. Dad swears he can get a helper to cut and bale the trees. He’s got sixty or seventy-five trees down near the creek bottom, although he says we don’t have many of the big ones left.”

“That’s actually better,” Kerry said. “Seems like people prefer the tabletop trees. And some more six-or eight-foot ones would be good too.”

Murphy gave her a sour look. “So you’re the expert now? You can predict what my customers, who Dad and I have been selling trees to for thirty years—you know what they do and don’t want?”

Kerry’s jaw dropped at the intensity of his anger.

“Hey. Don’t go if you’re gonna be all pissy and belligerent, Murphy. I don’t get why you’re so furious that we’re finally selling trees and making some money. Isn’t that what this trip is about? Seeing to it that we get the farm back in the black so Dad doesn’t worry about it and give himself another heart attack?”

He leaned against the trailer, his body stiff with barely suppressed fury. “Yeah, it’s about that. But I resent you telling me what to do, parachuting in here and changing everything around. Dad and I have a system…”

“Which wasn’t working so hot, was it? You were the one bellyaching about how the numbers this year were off and waving that notebook of Dad’s around. So instead of sitting here and watching the Brody brothers steal our customers—”

“My customers,” Murphy said, from between gritted teeth.

“See? That’s the real problem. I get it. You don’t want a woman telling you what to do. Especially if the woman happens to be your little sister.”