Page 13 of Bright Lights, Big Christmas
“Were you interested in finding a Christmas tree?” she asked.
“Just passing by.” His voice was gravelly, with a hint of an accent. He touched his hand to the brim of his hat. “Keep trying.” He walked away, his steps halting, a brass-tipped cane tapping at the pavement.
chapter 7
Kerry studied her sketch again. She sighed. The annoying geezer’s criticism was annoyingly valid. She’d succeeded in capturing the essence of Queenie, but her depiction of little Oscar was awkward, even clunky. He looked stiff and inhuman, more like a toy than a child.
She’d always struggled with drawing people, barely making passing grades when she studied figure drawing back in her art school days. She flipped the steno pad to a blank page and started over, blocking in the figure of the child first this time.
“Whatcha doing?”
It was Austin, Patrick’s son. He was dressed in a private school uniform; blue blazer with an embroidered patch on the breast pocket, a somewhat wrinkled white shirt, and khaki pants. He had a red backpack slung over his shoulder and was sipping from a juice box.
“I’m trying to draw a picture,” Kerry said. She was instantly fascinated with the child’s face. His dark blue eyes were fringed by long, dark lashes and a tiny constellation of freckles was scattered across his snub nose and pale cheeks. He had dark-blond hair cut short tothe scalp, with bangs that had been carefully gelled back from his forehead.
Kerry gazed around the stand. They were alone. “Are you supposed to be down here by yourself?”
Austin pointed to the building just to the left of Lombardi’s. “I’m not alone. My dad is upstairs. He watches me through the window. I’m not allowed to cross the street or talk to strangers.”
“Aren’t I a stranger?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No. My dad says you’re nice.”
Kerry felt herself blushing.
“Because you’re Murphy’s sister,” the boy added. He pointed at the trailer, where Kerry’s brother was just emerging. His serious face brightened. “Hi, Murphy!”
Murphy stretched, rolled one shoulder, then the other. “Oh hey, Austin. What’s up? Did you get kicked out of school?”
“No!” The boy giggled. “School’s over. My dad said it was okay if I helped you out.”
“Cool.” Murphy shook his head. “I was just thinking we could use some cheap labor around here. Right, Kerry?”
“Definitely.” She closed the steno pad.
“Good job on the Christmas lights,” Murphy said, gazing around. “But it doesn’t look like you sold too many trees. Maybe we need to make Austin here our sales manager.”
“Okay by me,” Kerry told him. “I did sell one tree. To Taryn Kaplan. She said her husband will come by after work to pick it up. And, she said we can shower at her place? Something you somehow forgot to mention to me?”
“Oh yeah,” Murphy said carelessly. “Did she leave the key?”
“She did,” Kerry said. “And tonight, I intend to take the longest, hottest shower in the world.”
“Good for you.” He glanced at his watch. “Almost four. Business should start picking up pretty soon.” He pointed to a pile of firbranches he’d trimmed from the trees, then a wooden crate beneath the cash stand. “The clippers and wire are in there. Rolls of ribbon too. Maybe you could make some more wreaths. You remember how, right?”
Kerry rolled her eyes. As a teenager, she and Birdie had crafted the Christmas wreaths Jock and Murphy sold during their holiday stay in the city, wiring the prickly fir branches together into long garlands, forming some of them into a circle, then attaching sprigs of blue juniper, red-berried holly, and white tallow berries foraged from the woods surrounding the tree farm. In a good year, Jock would pay her five bucks apiece for her handiwork, money she eagerly saved to buy the clothes and makeup Birdie couldn’t (or wouldn’t) buy her.
“I think I can figure it out again,” she drawled. Kerry pulled out the supplies.
“What can I do?” Austin piped up.
Murphy dragged a large black plastic trash bag from the bed of his pickup truck. “This here is full of mistletoe. You can break off some of these pieces, like maybe three pieces to a bunch, and wrap some red ribbon around ’em. And tie a bow. You can tie a bow, right?”
“Sure thing,” Austin said. “That’s easy.”
“Don’t eat any of those berries. Okay? Cuz they’re poison. And your dad’s likely to get real annoyed with me if we have to take you to the hospital in an ambulance and pump out your stomach.”
“I never been in an ambulance,” Austin said, perking up.
