Page 73 of Bright Lights, Big Christmas
“Are you suggesting I should up and move here? And live where? Patrick, it’s sweet that you want me to stay, but do you know what graphic artists earn? I can’t afford to live in New York.” She gestured around at the manicured park and the distinguished-looking brownstones surrounding it. “Not this New York, anyway.”
“Don’t undersell yourself,” Patrick said stubbornly. “I’ve seen your work, Kerry. You’re an amazing creative force.”
“Miss?” a woman’s voice called out. Kerry turned to see the night cashier at Happy Days, the bodega across the street. She was hatless and wearing a lightweight jacket, blue jeans, and threadbare sneakers and was accompanied by a little girl of maybe four or five. The child wore jeans, a too-small pink puffy jacket, and Mary Jane shoes that had long ago lost most of their pink sparkle coating. She had a halo of tightly wrapped braids, each fastened with a tiny pink bead. The woman was pointing to the last tabletop tree in the stand.
“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.
