Murdoch brought two velvet-lined trays out and placed them on the top of the case.
“I trust I can touch these, right?” I probably shouldn’t have needled the man, but his superior attitude was grating on me.
His eyes narrowed. “Certainly, Mr. Ross.”
“Excuse me, sir?” a youthful voice called out. “These are really pretty. How much are they?”
Murdoch’s eyebrows rose until they were in danger of joining his hairline. “This is getting ridiculous. It should be painfully obvious to you that—”
“I’ll take this one,” I interrupted, pointing to the more intricate of the two diamond necklaces.
“Very good, sir.” Murdoch instantly reverted to his previous manner, only the faint flush on his thin face betraying his frustration. “Will that be all?”
“No.” I lowered my voice. “Ring up the earrings, too.”
Murdoch sputtered as his face turned maroon. “But Mr. Ross! Those cost—”
“I don’t care.” I leaned in, my voice quiet but firm. It was the same tone that made CEOs twice my age change lifelong business practices at my say so. “I’ll pay for both, and then you’ll “sell” them to the kid.” I made air quotes for good measure.
“Of course.” Murdoch was visibly offended, but he took the black credit card I held out and the tray with the necklace and disappeared into the back.
I turned to the boy who was hovering near the diamond earrings. “As soon as he’s done with me, he’ll ring you up.”
Relieved, the kid nodded, pulling crumbled dollar bills out of his coat pocket and smoothing them out on the glass surface.
Murdoch reappeared and handed me my card and the signature black box with thin silver stripes the store was known for. He handed it over to me, trying to look as gracious as possible, but I could tell this didn’t sit right with him.
“Shall I tell the young man to put his money away?” he inquired quietly. “I believe it was all of eight dollars.”
“No, he wants to buy it himself for his mother.” Then I couldn’t quite resist the urge to ruffle his feathers a bit more. “Though you could tell him they’re on sale for six.”
Murdoch seethed as he went over to complete the transaction.
I leaned against a counter and watched, partly to make sure the older man went through with it, and partly because it was entertaining as hell. The boy was bouncing on his heels, looking so excited that I half expected him to zoom around the room like a balloon letting its air out. He carefully counted out six dollars, handed it to the prune-faced man, and pocketed the small black and silver pouch. “Thanks!”
He started for the door, but then stopped and turned toward me. “Bye! Hope you and your mom have a Merry Christmas.”
“You too, kid.” The boy waved once and then practically skipped past the guard and out into the cold, windy street. Belatedly, it dawned on me that the kid was pretty damn young to be running around downtown Chicago on his own. Shit. I should’ve asked where his mom was.
But he was already gone, having run confidently down the sidewalk and out of view.
Judging by the smile on his face, he and his mom were going to have a damn good Christmas.
2
Callie
Could this day get any colder? Well, actually, it probably could. It was technically only twenty degrees out, but the windchill was a hell of a lot lower than that. My fingers and toes were frozen despite the double pairs of socks and gloves. As I crossed the last street to get to our apartment building, I jumped back as a car flew around the corner and missed me by about a foot. Gray slush flew out from the wheels and splattered my jeans, some of it even getting on my ancient green coat.
Some birthday this was turning out to be.
Shifting my packages to one hand, I held onto the rail as I climbed the steps to our building. The landlord never used enough salt, and I didn’t want to end up on my butt on the sidewalk.
The main hallway wasn’t heated, and it smelled a bit like mildew, but at least the wind was gone. In spite of the bags I held, my steps hastened as I reached the third floor. It took at least forty seconds to get the ancient key to turn in the rusted lock, but once inside, I took a deep breath. Despite the somewhat shabby furniture, the place smelled clean, and somehow like the outdoors. Then I spotted the three-foot Christmas tree we’d picked out a few days ago. That’s where the pine scent was coming from. Right now, the tree looked barren in the corner of the living room, but it wouldn’t for much longer.
Eagerly, I set a white box on the table and stashed my packages in the back of the tiny closet in my room. I shed my coat, too, but I didn’t want to take the time to change jeans. Instead, I dashed down the hall, knocking on Jane’s door.
As per usual, she had the television on loud enough to wake the dead. I pounded on the door three more times before it wrenched open.
“Mom!”
Parker beamed up at me, his bright blue eyes the most welcome sight I’d seen all day. Suddenly, it all melted away. The crowded diner full of stressed out and hurried customers. The afternoon job at the call center with the increasingly irate manager pushing us to meet impossible quotas. The cold. The exhaustion. Even getting sprayed by slush. It was all worth it for my baby. “Did you have a good day?”
“Yes.”
“Did Jane take you guys Christmas shopping?”
“Uh-huh.” His excited smile made me grin, too.
“Okay, well, I won’t peek. Go clean up and say goodbye to Hugh and Kaleb so we can have dinner.”
He darted off to put away the plastic racetrack that he and Hugh had been playing with. Kaleb was sitting on the couch with his mother, who’d barely waved when I came in. It wasn’t the best childcare situation, but paying my neighbor to watch Parker after school was the only way I could manage two jobs to make ends meet.
Well, mostly meet.
Parker gathered up his coat and his backpack and followed me into the hall. “Did you have a nice birthday?”
I looked down at his earnest face and saw the pleased smile on his face. I didn’t know what that was about, but it made my heart sing, nonetheless. “The best,” I said. Every day with him was the best. “Did you and Hugh have fun playing cars?”
“Yeah.” But his smile faded. “Hugh says he’s getting a Turbo Track 4000 for Christmas.”
We walked slowly down the dingy hallway. “Do you want a racetrack, too?” I couldn’t promise him a Turbo Track 4000. I’d already priced it, and it was well out of my range, especially with the clothes and books I’d already gotten him, but I was planning on getting him a smaller racetrack set.
“No, I just wonder how he knows what Santa’s going to bring him.”
Oh. That was a harder question. “Maybe he only asked for one thing?”
“No, he said he asked for a bunch of stuff.” Parker paused when we reached our door. “Do you think Santa already knows what he’s going to get me?”
“Probably. Christmas is next week, after all. Why? Do you want to write him another letter?”
“No.” Parker waited while I pushed open the heavy door. “He already knows what I want.”