Page 63 of Bright Lights, Big Christmas
chapter 35
Over the next few days, Kerry felt herself settling into the season. It snowed again, just enough to glaze the Christmas trees and the grass and shrubs in the pocket park with a thin layer of frost, and the sky was blue and cloudless. She had her own holiday playlist blaring and mulled cider heating up in a borrowed coffee urn, and she’d lit the fire in the oil barrel. She’d even donned a festive red-and-green felt elf’s hat with tiny silver bells that jingled every time she moved her head.
Mariah Carey was just starting to belt “All I Want for Christmas Is You” when the trailer door flew open and Murphy stepped out with a murderous look in his eyes.
“What the actual hell?” he bellowed, glowering at his sister. “What’s that racket?”
“It’s called Christmas music,” Kerry said calmly. “It gets people in a shopping mood.”
“It gets me in a shitty mood,” he said. His hair was wild and unkempt, and it looked as though he’d slept in his clothes. He lifted his head and sniffed. “And what’s that smell?”
“If you’re referring to the delicious aroma of fall spices like cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves, that’s probably the mulled cider I’m planning on serving our customers today.” She pointed at the urn, which she’d plugged into the extension cord running from Lombardi’s.
“But that other rank smell? I’d say that’s a disgusting elixir of unwashed socks and mountain man musk. And as we used to say when we were kids, the smeller is the feller.”
He retreated back into the trailer, but a few moments later emerged with his shaving kit in one hand and a laundry bag slung over his shoulder, walking past her without a word.
Customers drifted in and out to purchase trees, but when business slowed after lunch, Kerry cranked up the volume of the music and went back to work crafting wreaths.
Murphy ventured out of the trailer around two. He nodded in her direction, then walked across the street and into Lombardi’s. Half an hour later, he returned with a paper sack, which he handed her.
“The lunch special was meatball subs,” he said. “Claudia thought you might be hungry.”
“Thanks. I’m starved,” Kerry said, unwrapping the sandwich that was oozing with spicy marinara sauce and melted mozzarella.
Murphy sat down at her worktable and poured himself a cup of the spiced cider. “How’re we doing today?”
She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Eight trees, and half a dozen wreaths.”
He reached for his ever-present notebook. “Not bad. But we really need to put the pedal to the metal to sell all the rest of these trees.”
“That’s why I’m giving away cider and playing Christmas music, Captain Obvious,” she said, trying not to show her annoyance. “Hey, since you’re already up, can you watch the stand for a little while?”
“What for?”
“I’m almost out of materials for the wreaths. I’ll just run over to the wholesale flower market and be right back.”
“Guess that’ll be okay.” He turned and pointed at the pile of trees leaning up against the side of Spammy. “Are those all for deliveries?”
“Yeah,” Kerry said. “They’re all paid for and I’ve tagged each one with the address.” She frowned. “Vic should have been here by now.”
“Forgot to tell you. He’s not coming till after five. He’s got a dentist’s appointment.”
“I wish I’d known that,” Kerry said. “I promised the Fosters and the Carters that they’d have these trees this afternoon.”
Murphy shrugged. “I’ll deliver ’em while you’re gone. Won’t take long.”
“You’re gonna leave the stand unmanned?”
“Just for a few minutes,” he said. “They’re right here in the neighborhood. Don’t worry about it. It’s slow right now. Probably won’t pick back up till five, when people are heading home for the night.”
“But—” she started to protest, but he held up his hand, like a traffic cop.
“I been doing this for years without any help from you, okay? Leave it to me. I know what I’m doing.”
She was still miffed at her brother’s cavalier attitude when she returned to the Christmas tree stand an hour later and theCLOSEDsign was strung across the entrance.
The pile of trees for delivery was definitely diminished. She unloaded her supplies and began tying bows and wiring holly bunches to the wreath forms she’d completed earlier in the day. The late-afternoon sky was gunmetal gray. The temperature had dropped and the wind kicked up bits of dried leaves and pine needles, blowing them around in the frigid winter air.
