“Is this the right price? Forty dollars for real?” Her accent had a lilting patois, maybe from the West Indies.
The little girl’s dark eyes glowed with excitement as she touched the twinkling lights.
“Uh, no,” Kerry said hastily. “I made a mistake. It should say twenty dollars.”
“Oh.” The woman’s shoulders drooped. She looked down at the little girl. “We can’t get this tree, baby. It’s probably too big anyhow.”
The child looked away, then nodded sadly. Apparently she was used to being told no.
Kerry did some quick backpedaling. “Actually, all these trees are marked on clearance tonight, because we have to leave tomorrow. So that tree would be two dollars.”
The woman looked dubious, but she dug in the pocket of her coat and brought out a couple of crumpled dollar bills. “Two dollars? Is that right?”
The little girl tugged at the older woman’s hand and stood on her tiptoes to whisper in her ear.
“My granddaughter wants to know how much for the lights.”
“The lights are included,” Kerry said.
“Tell the lady thank you, Babydoll,” her grandmother prompted.
“Thank you, ma’am,” the child whispered.
“You’re very, very welcome,” Kerry said.
They loaded the lit tree in a plastic trash bag, which the grandmother hefted over her shoulder. As they walked away, Babydoll turned and gave a shy wave.
“Merry Christmas,” Kerry called.
She was struck by the mixed emotions she was experiencing. She was elated at being able to essentially give away a tree to a little girl and her grandmother. But one less tree meant they were that much closer to selling out—and closing the stand to head home.
When she turned around to explain her feelings to Patrick, she discovered he’d vanished. She glanced up and down the street, even checked inside Spammy, but he was gone. Just then, her phone dinged to signal an incoming text.
Didn’t mean to ghost you. Gretchen called and Austin’s sick. I’m going to meet her at Grand Central and bring him back to the apartment.
Kerry’s fingers flew over her phone’s keyboard.
Hope it’s nothing serious.
His reply came a moment later.
Just a tummyache. I’ll call you later and we can continue our convo. Stay warm.
She pulled up the collar of her coat and tugged down on the brim of her knit cap. It was going to be a long, cold night.
The trailer door opened and Murphy stepped out, dressed in his new finery.
“Well?”
Kerry gave a long, low wolf whistle, and her brother blushed.
“I feel weird. Like I’m walking around in someone else’s skin.” He tugged at the scarf around his neck.
“You look like a big, gorgeous stud-muffin,” Kerry told him. “Claudia is the luckiest woman in New York tonight.”
“I’m counting on me being the luckiest guy in the city tonight,” her brother countered as he stood, looking across at Lombardi’s.
chapter 42
The first fat fluffy flakes of snow landed lightly on Kerry’s eyelashes at precisely 10:05 on what had been an interminably long, cold, lonely night.
She’d sold three more trees for a combined total of sixty-three dollars—the odd number caused by her latest customer, a half-drunk college kid who swore he only had three bucks in cash and a Metro-Card on him. She’d handed over the tree, along with a candy cane, and he’d given her a boozy hug before strolling away, dragging a hundred-dollar tree behind him on the icy pavement.
At ten thirty, she texted Patrick.
How’s the patient?
She stared down at the phone, watching the tiny text bubbles.
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?”