“You ain’t going on my watch,” Murphy told him. “No sirreebob.”
Kerry wrinkled her nose when she saw the roll of cheap ribbon Murphy handed Austin to tie around the sprigs of mistletoe.
“Don’t you have anything else?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Where’d you get this crap? A truck stop?”
He shrugged. “We been using it for years. No complaints.”
“How much do you get for wreaths these days?”
“Twenty-five bucks, same as always.”
“I’m gonna find some decent ribbon. Nice, wide, wired grosgrain. Did you bring any other greenery, like Mom and I always used to use?”
“Look, just make the wreaths and tie on the damn ribbon. It don’t need to be fancy.”
Austin looked uneasily from Murphy to Kerry, his cheeks reddening.
She gave the little boy’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “It’s okay, Austin. Murphy isn’t mad at you. He just doesn’t like taking advice from a girl.”
chapter 8
The next day, while it was still dark and Murphy was snoring away in his bunk, Kerry set out walking to the wholesale flower market that was less than a mile away. She’d done her research online, knew what she wanted, and where to get it.
Happily wandering the flower stalls with a steaming latte in hand, she picked out bundles of seeded eucalyptus, glossy holly branches with fat red berries, and blue juniper. She bought green floral wire and spools of ribbon in luscious colors.
Back at the tree stand, she set out her materials on the card table and started wiring the greenery to one of the plain wreaths she’d created the day before. By the time Murphy emerged from the camper she’d created half a dozen wreaths loaded with the variegated greenery and luxe ribbon she’d bought at the flower market.
“Where’d you get all that?” he commented, glancing at her creations. “And what’d you spend?”
“I went to the wholesale market. I spent what I needed.” Shefinished plumping the gold satin ribbon on a wreath and held it out for his inspection. “What do you think?”
“How much?” he asked.
“I looked in the window of a fancy florist on Greenwich Avenue. They sell wreaths like this for a hundred and fifty dollars, and their greens aren’t anywhere near as fresh as ours,” Kerry said. “I’ve got about twenty dollars of materials in these, so I’ll price these first half dozen at ninety-nine apiece. And if they don’t sell, I can always reduce the price, right?”
Murphy shrugged and walked away, toward the bakery, muttering to himself.
“Oh my!” A woman in workout clothes had stopped to inspect the wreath Kerry had just finished. “These are gorgeous. Are you selling them?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kerry said, deliberately laying on a thick Southern accent.
The woman stroked the gold satin ribbon. “I’ve got double doors in my entryway, so I’d need a pair of these. Do you have another just like this one?”
“I can make you a second one, if you give me about an hour,” Kerry said.
“Perfect,” the woman said, beaming. “I’m on my way to Pilates, but I can stop here on the way back. How much are they, by the way?”
“Two hundred for the pair,” Kerry said, holding her breath, hoping the woman wouldn’t change her mind.
“Okay. Sold.” The customer reached into the pocket of her Patagonia jacket and pulled out some folded-up bills. She plucked four fifties and handed them to Kerry. “I’m Lorna. And I’ll see you in a bit.”
Kerry was winding tartan ribbon around a twenty-six-inch wreath when a tall, slender man approached with a small fluffy dog on a leash. He wore a brown leather bomber jacket with a Burberry scarf wrapped around his neck, and a tweed newsboy’s cap.
Queenie, who’d been lounging on her moving blanket, walked over and gave the dog an inquisitive sniff, and the smaller dog responded by rolling onto his back and wriggling on the sidewalk.
