Bright Lights, Big Christmas(58)

Sleeping, finally. Can you come up?

Could she? Kerry looked around. Four lonesome trees leaned against the railings of the Christmas tree stand. The snow was falling faster now and people spilled out of neighboring bars and restaurants, laughing and chattering in the chilly night air.

She whistled for Queenie, who, clever girl that she was, had burrowed into a couple of moving blankets beneath the worktable. The dog poked her nose out and looked at Kerry.

“Come on. Let’s put you up for a while.” Kerry led Queenie into the trailer, where she happily leapt atop Murphy’s bunk before curling up on his pillow. Then Kerry closed and locked the trailer door.

Outside, she pulled the bungee cord across the entrance to the tree stand, hanging the CLOSED sign. She started to walk away, then changed her mind.

She took down the hand-painted price list, crossing through it with a bold red marker, writing across it in large letters:

FREE TREES! MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE TOLLIVER FAMILY.



* * *



Patrick buzzed her into the lobby and met her in the hallway outside the apartment.

“Come on in.” He gestured toward the open door, and kissed her as she walked past.

“I’m so glad you texted,” she whispered, as she tiptoed into the apartment. “I was freezing and dying of boredom down there.”

“No need to whisper,” he told her. “Austin is passed out in his room. A herd of elephants couldn’t wake that kid when he’s sick.”

As Kerry stood looking out the window, watching the snow drift past, Patrick slid an arm around her waist and kissed her neck. “Can I get you a glass of wine?”

“That would be nice,” she said, looking down at the street below. She saw a young couple holding hands, running gleefully into the Christmas tree stand, clapping their hands as they read the sign she’d left behind. The woman pointed at the largest of the remaining trees, one that had been priced at three hundred dollars a few hours earlier, and the man wrestled it out of the stand and began dragging it toward the sidewalk.

Patrick was back, handing her a wineglass. “Hey! They’re stealing your trees. Want me to go down there and stop them?”

“They’re not stealing. I’m giving them away.”

“Why?”

“Why not? It’s almost Christmas. Whether I leave tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, what’s the difference?”

He touched her chin, swiveling her face until hers was inches from his.

“It makes a difference to me. I need more time with you. I’ll take whatever I can get.”

“Another reason to close down the stand and give away the rest of the trees. Instead of standing down there, miserable and cold, I can be up here with you, warm and—”

He was kissing her now, and she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Dad?” A small, very familiar voice floated across the room. They both froze.

Austin stood in the doorway from the hall. His hair was mussed. He was dressed in rumpled red-and-green footie pajamas and clutched a stuffed dragon under his arm.

“Hi, Kerry,” he said, yawning widely. “What are you doing here?”

She edged away from Patrick’s embrace. “I wanted to check on you. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. My stomach hurted, but Dad gave me ginger ale and crackers, and now I’m all better.”

“That’s great news,” Kerry said.

Austin pointed out the window, at the snowflakes floating past.

“It’s really, really snowing.” He frowned. “Where’s Queenie? Won’t she be cold?”

Kerry laughed. “She’s inside Spammy, snuggled up on Murphy’s bunk.”

He turned large, sorrowful eyes back to her. “Did you find Mr. Heinz yet?”

Patrick placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “We talked about this, Austin. Mr. Heinz is probably just staying home, because he has a cold, just like you had to stay inside today, because you had a stomachache.”

Austin shook his head vehemently. “But I had you to take care of me. He doesn’t have anybody. Tell him, Kerry. Tell him we need to find Mr. Heinz.”

Kerry knelt down on the floor. “We tried, I promise. I looked, and Murphy looked, and we talked to a lot of the neighbors, but nobody knows where he lives. I bet, as soon as he feels better, you’ll see Mr. Heinz walking around the neighborhood again, just like he always does.”

Austin’s gaze turned back to the window. “We should go look for him right now. We could ask all our neighbors. We could put up signs with Mr. Heinz’s picture on them, like the Westons did when Dexter ran away. Remember? Someone saw the sign and they found Dexter hiding behind some trash cans in the alley, and he came home. Remember, Dad?”

“A stray cat isn’t the same as a grown-up who can take care of himself,” Patrick said. “We can’t knock on people’s doors this late. And we definitely aren’t leaving this apartment tonight, especially since you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick!” Austin exclaimed, stomping his foot. “I just pretended. So mom wouldn’t make me go with her. So I could stay here with you. And Kerry, and help you find Mr. Heinz.”

“Austin?” Patrick’s tone was stern. “What do you mean you pretended to be sick? Your mom said you were barfing. She saw you.”