Kerry couldn’t help but be curious about such an unusual custody arrangement. “And then what?”
“I’ve got a little studio apartment in Soho,” he said. He glanced at his watch. “I better go up. Our neighbor babysits whenever we need her, but it’s getting late.” He looked around the Christmas tree stand.
“Austin is fascinated with this place. He thinks it’s a magical forest.”
“Tell him he’s welcome to hang out with us anytime,” Kerry said.
“Don’t worry. He’ll be down here tomorrow, as soon as he gets home from school,” Patrick said. “Your brother is his hero.”
chapter 6
“Kerry, wake up!”
She opened one eye. Her brother was leaning down, his face inches from hers in the half-dark trailer. He smelled like bacon. And unwashed socks.
“Hmpff?”
He shook her shoulder. “Come on, now. I let you sleep in, but it’s way past seven. I gotta get the electricity hooked up this morning, and I can’t do nothin’ with you in here.”
She pushed aside the sleeping bag and blankets, swung her legs over the edge of the bunk, and shivered. Murphy stomped away, his footsteps shaking the trailer. “Let’s go,” he called over his shoulder.
Quickly, she pulled on three layers of clothes and her boots.
Glancing in the tiny mirror near the bathroom alcove she shuddered at her own image. Somehow, some way, she had to get a shower and wash her hair today.
She knocked on the door at the bakery and a young woman in her twenties let her in. “Murph’s sister, right? I’m Lidia and I got coffee going,” the girl said. Kerry nodded and kept walking, heading to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face.
A few minutes later, she emerged, breathing in the heavenly coffee fumes.
Lidia handed her a coffee mug and Kerry dumped in a packet of sugar and a splash of cream. She cradled the mug in both hands, letting the warmth seep into her chilled bones.
“Something to eat?” the girl asked.
Kerry eyed the glass display case. “Is that banana bread?” she asked, pointing to the top tray.
“Yep.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Want me to warm it up under the toaster?” Lidia asked.
“I want you to warm me up under that toaster,” Kerry said.
She sat at a window facing the sidewalk and watched as Murphy and Danny the bartender snaked a thick extension cord from the basement window of Lombardi’s café, across the sidewalk, and hooked it up to the outlet on the side of their trailer. Next, Murphy covered the cord with thick reflective silver duct tape. Standing, he gave Danny the thumbs-up sign.
* * *
By nine o’clock, Kerry had sold her first tree, a six-footer, to a harried mom with two toddlers crammed into a side-by-side stroller. The woman was squatting down on the sidewalk, inspecting the base of the tree to make sure it was straight when, out of the corner of Kerry’s eye, she saw one of the kids, probably just barely two years old, tumble out of the stroller and make a break for the street.
“Hey!” She dropped the tree and went after the kid, yanking him by the hood of his quilted jacket just moments before a yellow cab went barreling past.
“Nooooo!” The kid’s face went scarlet with fury and he pounded Kerry’s knees with his mittened fists as she herded him back toward the stroller.
The mother scooped the child into her arms. “Oh my God, Oscar,” she exclaimed, hugging him tightly to her chest. She looked over at Kerry. “Thank you.”
Little Oscar was still crying, tears and snot streaming down his face, as his mother handed Kerry three fifty-dollar bills. “I’ll send my husband to pick up the tree after he gets home from work tonight.”
“Uh-oh.” Kerry pointed at the stroller, where the other little boy had one foot out of the stroller, poised for his escape.
“Elmo!” The woman hurried over and gently pushed the child back inside. “Let’s go home now.” She plopped Oscar into the top tier, looked over at Kerry, and rolled her eyes.
“Twins, everyone said. It’ll be such fun! At forty! Whee!” She turned the stroller around and wheeled it briskly away.
Two hours passed without another sale. Murphy busied himself sweeping up fallen pine needles and sorting the Christmas trees by price. Finally, at eleven, he yawned widely. “I’m hitting the hay,” he told Kerry. “You can handle things, right?”
She looked around, feeling panicky. “Now? What if someone has questions, or wants a tree delivered, or…”
“Mondays are always slow. Business won’t pick up again till late afternoon. Handle it,” he said firmly. “I’ve been up since five, and I need some shut-eye. If you need something to do, you could string Granddad’s lights on the outside of Spammy. They’re in a bin in the bed of my truck.” He gestured at Queenie, who was sitting quietly on the folded-up utility blanket that served as her bed. “And she’ll need a walk in an hour or so.”
“Who’ll watch the stand?”
But Murphy had already retreated into the trailer.
Time dragged. Bored, Kerry fetched a plastic bin from the bed of her brother’s pickup truck. She sighed at the sight of the contents—a hopelessly snarled bundle of old-fashioned multicolored C9 Christmas tree lights.
With the aid of a roll of duct tape and a stepladder, she spent the next hour unsnarling and outlining the rounded contours of the travel trailer with the big-bulb lights, not stopping until she’d used all eleven strands. Finally, she stepped back, held her breath, and plugged the last strand into the extension cord’s power strip.
“It’s the miracle of the lights,” she told Queenie, who’d walked over to investigate Kerry’s handiwork. “Not a single burnt-out bulb!
“Okay, girl,” she agreed, when the dog gently prodded her hand with her snout. “I need to stretch my legs too.” She stretched bungee cords across both entrances to the stand, hung up the CLOSED sign, and clipped Queenie’s leash to her collar, tying a plastic bag to the leash.
They walked down the street, crossed at the light, and kept walking until she spotted a small enclosed dog park. Queenie efficiently took care of her business. The sun was out and Kerry was glad to have an excuse to explore the neighborhood.
On the way back, she stopped at the bodega across the street from the stand and got a cup of mediocre chicken noodle soup, then returned to the stand to eat her lunch.
People rushed past, barely glancing at the trees. Bored, Kerry went to the truck and fetched a steno pad and pencil she’d noticed tucked up under the passenger-side sun visor.
She began doodling on a blank page, doing a quick pencil study of Queenie, who, true to her name, always managed to look regal, even while resting on a dirty moving blanket on a grubby city street, with her head tucked daintily over her paws.
Kerry studied Queenie, noticing for the first time the heart-shaped patch of brown fur on her nose, and the long tufts of hair protruding from her eyebrows.
“Excuse me?”
She looked up.
The mom with the twins was back. “I think maybe Oskie dropped his binkie when we were here earlier.”
“Binkie?”