He tapped Connect on the phone.
“Hi. What’s up?”
His face softened as he listened. “Okay. Yeah. Glad you caught me. I’ll come right up.”
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Austin wants me to come up and read him a bedtime story. Gotta go.”
“See ya,” Kerry said. “And thanks, by the way, for the intel about Ashley.”
“Happy to help,” Patrick murmured. He leaned in and kissed her, very lightly, on the lips. “Hope something comes of it.”
chapter 19
When her phone started ringing the next morning, Kerry groped around on her bunk, then finally found it on the floor, on top of the mound of clothes she’d dumped the night before.
She blinked a few times when she saw the caller ID, and then the time. It was barely seven.
“Mom? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Is your brother around?”
She glanced over at Murphy’s bunk, where Queenie was sleeping. She walked to the door in her stocking feet, opened it, and peeked out. The CLOSED sign was still hanging where she’d left it the night before.
Shivering, she returned to her bunk and pulled the blankets up to her chin. “I don’t see him. Why don’t you call his phone instead of mine?”
“I did, but you know how he is. Half the time he doesn’t even know where his phone is, the other half, he only picks up if he feels like it.”
Kerry recalled Claudia’s parting words the previous evening. Clearly, Murphy had spent the night out.
“Guess he must have gone out for coffee. Or to deliver a tree.”
“At this time of the morning?”
“Mom, it’s New York. The city that never sleeps. Anything I can help you with?”
She sensed a note of hesitation in her mother’s voice. “No. Nothing important. Your dad had a question for him. Something about a piece of equipment.”
“I’ll tell Murphy to call you as soon as he gets back,” Kerry promised.
“Fine. How’s it going with you two? Are you getting along okay?”
“Sometimes yes, sometimes no. You know Murphy. He can be really prickly … And so closed off. I can never tell what he’s thinking.”
“Takes after his daddy,” Birdie said. “But give him time. He’s a good man, Kerry. Other than that, how’s business?”
“I thought it was going pretty well, but Murphy says we’re way behind on his usual sales numbers.”
“You’ll catch up.”
“How’s Dad?” Kerry asked.
There was a long pause.
“Mom? Are you there?”
Birdie sighed. “Fine. Cranky as ever.”
As if on cue, Kerry heard her father’s voice, querulous, demanding …
“Bird? Are you fixing my breakfast? You know I can’t take my pills until I eat…”
“You heard the man,” Birdie said. “Gotta go. Tell Murphy to call me when he gets back.”
* * *
Kerry stayed in bed for another fifteen minutes, her thoughts drifting to the night before, and Patrick’s parting kiss. What did it mean? In the South, people, even strangers, routinely hugged and kissed when they met, and when they parted ways. But this was New York City.
Finally, she dragged herself out of bed. Despite the space heater, it was still chilly enough that she could see her breath in the air. She longed for a hot shower, but there was no way she could impose on the Kaplans this early on a Sunday morning.
Kerry pulled on her jacket and snapped a leash to Queenie’s collar before walking her outside to the park to do her business. Finally, she filled the dog’s bowl with water and food and directed her to her moving blanket beneath the worktable outside. She heard church bells ringing from St. Egbert’s on the next corner. The sun shone down. The sidewalk was alive with people walking dogs or pushing babies in strollers. A man dressed in tights and a sleeveless T-shirt jogged past, and Kerry shivered on his behalf. Delivery trucks rolled down the street, and two teenagers whizzed past on electric scooters. The door of a diner opened and she caught the aroma of frying bacon and what? Dill pickles? It struck Kerry that this corner of the West Village really was a little village, full of life and the sounds and smells of a big city, and after only a week it felt a lot like home.
She pulled out the custom purple-and-white wreath and finished attaching the last few bits of mistletoe. Just as she was finishing tying the bow, a sleek black sedan pulled up to the curb and Susannah, the redheaded customer, jumped out of the back seat.
Kerry held the wreath up so she could inspect it. “It’s perfect,” the woman gushed. “Better than I could have hoped. The trees are wonderful too. Your brother even put them in the stands for me. My apartment smells like an alpine forest. Heavenly.” She handed a wad of bills to Kerry.
“But … but … you already paid me,” Kerry babbled.
“That was before I saw the finished product. And, take a piece of advice from someone who’s been in business for herself for a very long time. Never argue with a customer who wants to pay you what you’re worth. Too many women undervalue themselves.”
Susannah jumped back into the sedan and it rolled away. Kerry unfolded the bills. There were five twenty-dollar bills. Not a bad start for the morning.
In the next hour, she sold three more trees, all to customers who either promised to return to pick up their purchase after returning from brunch, or who wanted their trees delivered.
Still no sign of Murphy. She should have been annoyed, but then, she decided, why shouldn’t he have a night off? Especially when it involved a sleepover with the glamorous Claudia.
She got out her drawing pad and pencils and began to sketch, placing Queenie in the middle of the page, with the pigeons, looking like fussy old ladies, bobbing and pecking around her. On a whim, she pulled out colored pencils and began sketching in the Christmas tree lot, adding a border enclosing Spammy, the dog, and the pigeons with a semicircle of trees. She drew in the Tolliver Family Christmas tree sign festooned with a big red bow.
When she looked up from her work she saw a stooped figure in a long black coat slowly making his way down the sidewalk. Queenie got up and walked over to him, sniffling at the old man’s coat.
“She’s a smart girl, this one,” Heinz chuckled, pointing at her worktable. “So, what are you working on today?”
“Nothing, really,” she said.
“Will you let me see?”
Kerry shrugged and opened the sketchbook to this morning’s drawing. He put on a pair of spectacles and studied her work.
“It’s just a doodle,” Kerry said. “Not even a doodle.”
“No, no. I quite like it,” Heinz said. He turned to the page with the drawing of Queenie. “I like the expression on Queenie’s face while she watches the pigeons. You’re quite good with animals, you know. But tell me, how does all this fit into our story?”
“Our story?” Kerry raised an eyebrow.
“Certainly.” He stuffed his hand into his coat pocket and brought out a single dog biscuit. He extended his hand, palm out. Queenie crept closer, crouched, and after a moment, delicately swept the biscuit into her mouth with her tongue.