OUR PRICES ARE CRAZY AND SO ARE WE!
By late afternoon, people were streaming into the Christmas tree stand across the street. Every time Kerry looked up, someone was loading a tree into their car, or one of the brothers was setting off from the stand, carting a tree tied to a red wagon.
Business was notably slower at the Tolliver tree stand. Kerry crafted four more wreaths, using up all the floral supplies she’d purchased that morning, setting aside the ones she’d already promised to earlier customers. She sold a total of two trees, which were to be delivered by Murphy, later in the evening.
At three, she pulled the bungee cords across the trees at the entrance to the stand and posted a GONE TO LUNCH sign. She walked across the street to get a close-up view of the Brodys’ enterprise. She strolled around the bodega, filling up a shopping basket with random groceries, stopping at the front of the store to peer out the window at the competition.
The tall, skinny brother darted around the stand, chatting up potential buyers, gesturing wildly as he haggled over prices. The brother in the Santa hat lounged on a folding chair, idly scrolling on his cell phone while puffing on a cigarette.
When she returned to her post, Murphy was prowling around the booth, picking up stray branches and glowering at the competition across the street.
“I thought you were sleeping,” Kerry said, tossing Queenie a dog biscuit from the bag she’d picked up on her shopping/spying excursion.
“I did, for a while, but then I got too riled up. Where’d you go?”
“Over there,” she said, nodding in the direction of the Brodys. “I wanted to check them out up close and personal. They’re wheeling and dealing, that’s for sure. I bet they’ve sold a dozen trees, in the same time I only managed to sell two.”
“Those assholes!” he growled. “They know this is our corner. Our street. Has been for thirty years. I can’t believe the Sorensens let them set up in front of Happy Days.”
Kerry followed his gaze. “What can we do about them?”
“Nothing. Claudia says old man Sorensen has basically retired, so their kids are running the show. Eric Sorensen told her the Brodys are paying them two K a week.”
“Why would they move right across the street from another Christmas tree stand?” Kerry asked.
“They’re assholes, but they’re not stupid. This corner is prime real estate. It gets amazing foot traffic. That’s why Dad chose Abingdon Square way back when. Couple years ago, the Brodys even went to the neighborhood association that runs the park, to offer them more money than we pay to set up here. Fortunately, we’ve got friends on the association board.”
“I was wondering how that worked,” Kerry said.
“We make a generous donation to the park foundation,” Murphy said. “We keep the place picked up and neat while we’re here, and they like what they call the ambience. You know? No trashy neon signs, that kind of thing.”
She nodded her understanding. “Got it.”
“And that’s why the Brodys showed up this year. To underprice us and try to drive us out of business.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We do what we do,” Murphy said. “We’ve got the freshest, prettiest trees in the city. Our customers can afford to pay more for the best. And they like that we have a history here.”
chapter 10
“That’s it,” Kerry told Queenie, the next morning. “Today’s the day I get an honest to Gawd shower.”
Queenie turned her head and gave Kerry a quizzical look, before returning to her own grooming project, which consisted of delicately licking her paws.
Taryn Kaplan picked up her phone on the first ring. “Kerry! I was wondering when you were gonna give in and take me up on my offer.”
“Is now a convenient time?” Kerry felt unexpectedly shy, asking for such a personal favor.
“Now’s perfect. The boys are at preschool, so they won’t be underfoot, and I’m just catching up on some phone calls.”
“Great,” Kerry said. “I’ll be right over.”
“Bring your laundry if you want,” Taryn said.
“Oh my God, you’re an angel,” Kerry said fervently.
She found Murphy, wrapped burrito style in a sleeping bag, dozing in his lawn chair outside the camper. She touched his shoulder lightly and he stirred awake. “What’s up?”
“I’m going to go take a shower at the Kaplans’， and do some laundry while I’m there,” she said. “Want to give me your stuff to wash?”
“Nah. But don’t be gone long, okay? I need to get some real shut-eye.”
* * *
Taryn was waiting when the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, holding the door to her apartment open. She looked impossibly glamorous in a black velour tracksuit, with her long hair done up in a topknot, her face dewy and impeccably made up, which made Kerry feel even more self-conscious about her own unkempt appearance.
“Right this way,” her hostess said, gesturing her down a wide hallway. The wood floor was painted in a black-and-white diamond pattern, and the walls were lined, floor to ceiling, with art of every description: portraits, landscapes, still lifes, oil paintings, charcoal drawings, sketches, watercolors, and prints.
They paused at a set of curtained French doors. “The laundry room,” Taryn said, opening the door to a long, narrow room. One wall held a washer and dryer and a table stacked high with folded clothing. The room was warm and smelled like bleach and lavender. “Go ahead and throw your clothes in,” Taryn said. She opened another door and pointed. “Guest bath. You should have everything you need.”
* * *
When Kerry emerged from the bathroom, pink-faced and relaxed after her shower, she could hear Taryn’s voice echoing from the back of the apartment. She padded, barefoot, down the hallway, drawn to the carefully arranged art.
She was so intent on studying a small vividly colored abstract collage she didn’t notice Taryn until she was standing right beside her.
“I was wondering where you’d gotten to,” Taryn said. She pointed at the artwork Kerry was gazing at. “You like this piece?”
“I love everything you’ve got,” Kerry said. “The colors in this one, all these intense blues and greens, really appeal to me.”
“Me too,” Taryn said. “I bought it at a little street market in Greece in my college days, for five bucks. I’m transported back to Mykonos every time I look at it.”
Kerry’s gaze fell on a piece hanging nearby, a pen-and-ink study of a young man. He had a high, wide forehead, wavy hair, a delicate, aquiline nose, dark, moody eyes, and full lips that were curved into a tentative smile. The portrait was unsigned, except for an abstract silhouette of a tree in the lower right-hand corner.
“I really like this one. A lot,” Kerry said. “It’s so … evocative. I want to know this man.”
“It’s one of my favorites,” Taryn agreed. “Would you believe—I found it in a pile of trash on the street the first week we moved into this building. It was rolled up, with a rubber band around it. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it. I snatched it up so fast, and ran with it to the framer’s.”