“Everything must go! Fifty percent off!” she yelled.
“I’ll take two.” Eli handed her a twenty.
“You can have the whole tray for fifty,” the older woman said, looking around furtively.
“Done.”
“What are you going to do with all of that?” I said in disbelief as Eli set the tray down on a table and took a seat.
“This is to help you lighten up.”
A police officer ran up to our table.
“Those alcoholic beverages were sold without a license.” He shook his baton at us.
“Just take them, sir.” I handed him one of the cups.
The officer, a heavyset man, drank it and fanned himself. “This fucking holiday.”
“Tell me about it.”
“At least this isn’t as bad as the riot the other day at the Santa Claus meet and greet.” He toasted us with the cup and ambled away.
“See,” I said, pointing in the direction of the officer. “Things like this don’t happen in Manhattan.”
“You have to enjoy the spirit of Christmas.” Eli took a shot of winter sangria.
“Santa Claus is coming; hear the bagpipes calling!”
A children’s choir in matching vests trooped through the crowd up to the stage to applause.
“I heart you guys!” Eli yelled to his two dozen little brothers. They all had Eli’s same dirty blond hair and gray eyes. Eli’s older brother Remy followed behind them with a conductor’s baton. Once on the stage, they launched into a heartfelt rendition of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”
I had wanted a bunch of kids with Hensley. When I had bought the Wynter Estate, I had visions of the big family we would raise there. I drained the nearest small cup of sangria, the rum burning my throat.
Don’t think about it.
“I can’t believe your brother was able to get the kids to practice, let alone get them all to be on key and harmonizing,” I said as I took a bite of theKäsespätzle.
“He bribed them with tacos.”
A kid with a bucket came by. “Support the orphanage!”
“How much money did you make?” I asked, peering in his bucket. I whistled. “You’re cleaning up.”
The kid shook the bucket at Eli and me. “Where’s your Christmas cheer, gov’nor?” he said in a fake Cockney accent.
“I’m not paying you,” Eli scoffed. “Does Hunter know you’re out here panhandling?”
The kid backed away slowly.
“It’s for a good cause…”
“They’re probably going to buy Transformers toys with that,” Eli said, standing up to follow his brother.
I picked up the empty plates.
“You’re not going to stay for the raffle? You can get another ticket. They’re auctioning off a giant candy cane.” Eli waggled his eyebrows. “You’re not going to be able to deliver on the two-foot dick you were promising your sexy bake-off partner. She’s going to be disappointed. The candy cane might help make up for it.”
