“Murphy! You’ve got to get back to the stand. A cop showed up and says we’re parked there illegally. He called a tow truck. I’m on my way there now, but I don’t know what I’ll do when I get there.”
Traffic was slow and Kerry peered anxiously over the cabdriver’s shoulder. “Isn’t there a shortcut you can take?”
The cabbie didn’t turn his head.
Ten agonizing minutes passed before they arrived at Abingdon Square. She shoved some bills in the cash slot in the partition and jumped out of the cab.
A small crowd had gathered around the tree stand, where a tow truck was parked in front of the trailer. A heavyset man in a bright yellow rain slicker stood on the sidewalk, engaged in what looked like a heated conversation with her brother.
Utilizing her new big-city skills, Kerry managed to elbow her way through the onlookers.
“Murph?”
Her brother turned and glared. “Where you been?”
Kerry felt her face redden. “I went to the flower market. A customer—she bought nearly fifteen hundred dollars’ worth of trees—wants a wreath for her party tomorrow, and I was out of materials.”
“Never mind,” he said curtly. He put his hand on the tow truck driver’s sleeve. “Do we have an understanding?”
The driver stomped back to the tow truck, revved the engine, and slowly pulled away from the square.
People began to drift away. But Patrick and Austin stood their ground.
“Sorry,” Patrick said. “That cop must be new on the beat. I’ve never known the police to mess with your family before.”
Kerry watched as Murphy loaded two trees onto the wagon he’d rigged to trail behind his bike. “My brother told me we’ve always had an understanding with the cops in this neighborhood. I wonder what changed?”
Murphy walked back to where she stood. His face was tight with barely controlled anger. She’d never seen her even-tempered brother like this.
“Kerry? You think you can maybe manage to stay here and do your job while I go deliver these trees? Maybe I should hire Austin, here, to take your place?”
Austin was wide-eyed, sensing the tension between the siblings.
“It’s okay, bud,” she told the little boy, patting his shoulder.
“We’re, uh, gonna go grab some lunch,” Patrick said. “You’re coming to the party tonight, right?”
“We’ll see,” Kerry said.
* * *
Kerry hurried into Lombardi’s at three to use their restroom. Claudia offered her a cup of espresso.
“Only if you can make it to go,” Kerry said. “I’m already on my brother’s shit list.”
Claudia rolled her eyes, but fetched a cardboard cup and drew her a cup of the inky black espresso.
“I’ll see you at the party tonight, right?” Claudia asked.
“Not sure. I found a jacket at a flea market this morning, but it’s kind of wrinkly and stinky. And I don’t have anything to wear with it. Plus, Murphy’s in a real mood.”
Claudia followed her outside the restaurant. “You leave your brother to me. And in the meantime, why don’t you give me that jacket? I’ve got a little hand steamer upstairs in my apartment that works miracles.”
chapter 14
The sleet had finally slacked off, but now the sky was darkening and the temperature had dropped another ten degrees while Kerry finished up her wreaths.
She was searching for the gloves she’d removed while crafting when she heard the trailer door open and saw Murphy step out, stretching and yawning like a grizzly bear after a long winter nap. She felt herself involuntarily flinch as he approached her work station.
“How’d we do today?” he asked, slumping down into his lawn chair. “How many trees?”
She consulted her steno pad, where she’d made hash marks for every tree sold.
“Eighteen trees. Not bad, right?”
“Not good,” he said, shaking his head. He lifted one hip and extracted a small notebook from his pocket. He leafed through well-thumbed pages of what looked like handwritten hieroglyphics and muttered under his breath.
“What?”
He ran an index finger down the page he’d opened the notebook to. “We’re way behind. Last year, by now, we’d sold thirty-two trees.”
Kerry craned her neck to get a look at the page, but the scratchings were illegible.
“Kerry, I don’t think you appreciate what all is on the line here. These next three weeks, right here on this corner, this is what keeps Tolliver Tree Farm in business next year. We’re operating on a razor-thin profit margin, as it is. We’re getting killed with expenses. Had to buy a new baling machine last month, and the cost of fuel is sky high. We lost all those trees last spring. And now, missing the first week of sales, plus all these hospital expenses from Dad’s heart attack…”
A chill ran down her spine. “What are you trying to say? We might lose the farm?”
“Not saying that,” Murphy said, running his hands through his already wild mane. For the first time she noticed that his dark reddish hair was shot through with silver, as was his beard.
“I’m saying we gotta pay attention. Gotta maximize sales. Especially with those two goons over across the street calling the cops on us to try and make trouble.”
“You think it was the Brodys?”
“Hundred percent it was them. We know every cop in this precinct. They know us. I deliver a Tolliver tree to the station house every year, and give all the cops half-price trees.”
“Hey.” Claudia stood a few feet away, holding up the green velvet blazer.
“This jacket doesn’t even look like the one I bought,” Kerry marveled, taking it from her. “It looks brand new.”
“It is brand new. Or it was a few years ago. I found the price tag in the inside breast pocket. I don’t think it was ever worn.”
Kerry sniffed the collar and smelled something like lavender. “Smells new too.”
“Gave it a toss with a scented dryer sheet then ran my steamer over it,” Claudia said.
“Well, you’re awesome.” She poked her brother in the ribs. “Isn’t she?”
“Yeah, totally,” he said dutifully.
Claudia looked Murphy up and down. “So what are you wearing tonight, big fella?”
“I forgot about that party. And, uh…”
Claudia raised an eyebrow. “Let’s have a chat.”
chapter 15
Spammy’s bathroom mirror was only slightly larger than a pie pan, and the forty-watt bulb in the tiny space cast a dim yellow light on the faded pink walls.
Kerry twisted her dark-blond hair into a knot at the nape of her neck, then rolled and tucked the ends into a French knot. She finished her makeup with a coat of Chanel red lipstick, the same shade she’d been using since Birdie gave her a tube for her eighteenth birthday.
She studied her reflection in the mirror. Gray eyes, the one on the left slightly smaller than the one on the right, stubby nose—just like Jock’s—and full lips, like her mother’s, and all the women on her side of the family.
The trailer door opened and Murphy stuck his head inside.
“Gimme a minute.”