“The neighborhood holiday open house. At John and Thomas’s place? It’s tonight. Remember?”
“That’s tonight? Already?”
“Yes, Murphy. I promised John we’d both be there. And they want you to bring your dobro.”
He collapsed onto his bunk. “We’ll see. But in the meantime, you need to get out there and start hustling Christmas trees.”
Kerry bit her lip. “I will, but can you take over for me for an hour or so after that?”
Murphy yawned widely. “I just worked a fourteen-hour shift. Delivered seven trees last night—including dragging an eight-footer up six flights of stairs. I’m toast.”
He closed his eyes.
“Please, Murph?” Kerry leaned over and pried his eyes open with her fingers. “I’ll work this morning, but I really need to find something decent to wear to this party tonight. You can sleep till noon, okay? And then spell me for an hour or so?”
Murphy batted her hand away and rolled onto his side, with his back to his little sister. “Just go sell some trees, will ya?”
The customer was a thirty-something woman with flaming red hair that spilled over the fur-trimmed collar of her white wool car coat. She was pacing around the stand, her stiletto-heeled boots clicking on the pavement, holding up trees, frowning, then letting them drop back onto the pile she’d picked them from.
The woman loudly cleared her throat. “Ahh-hemm.”
“Hi,” Kerry said. “I hear you’re looking for a wreath?”
“Among other things,” the woman said. “My neighbor bought one from you earlier in the week. I’d like something very similar, only with white berries instead of red, some of those dried flowers like hers had, but with purple ribbon.”
“Oh-kay…” Kerry glanced down at the card table she’d come to regard as her workshop. She’d sold at least two dozen wreaths thisweek and her supplies were dwindling. She had some dried rose hips, a couple sprigs of mistletoe, but she was totally out of ribbon. She needed to make a trip to the flower market again, but there wouldn’t be time today.
“I don’t really have the materials to make a wreath like you want,” she said. “But if you come back Monday afternoon, after I’ve had a chance to restock…”
The woman shook her head vigorously. “Monday’s too late. I’m hosting my book club Christmas brunch Sunday. And I need trees and wreaths and garlands…”
“But that’s tomorrow,” Kerry pointed out.
“That’s the point,” the redhead said. She marched over to the stack of ten-foot trees and held one out. “I need a pair of these. But they need to be identical, because they go on either side of the fireplace in the living room.” She picked up a roll of fir garland that Kerry had spent the previous day crafting. Her fingertips were still sore and full of minute pricks from the sticky needles.
“How long is this?” the woman asked.
“Um. Maybe thirty feet?”
“I need twice that much, but I’ll take what you have,” the woman said, turning to look around the tree stand. She pointed at a three-foot tree. “One of those, for the buffet table.”
Kerry grabbed a receipt book and began jotting down the woman’s purchases. The trees alone came to nearly seven hundred dollars. She hadn’t calculated the price for the garland, but quickly decided the labor-intense project was easily worth one hundred and fifty.
“Anything else?”
“That should do it.” The woman rummaged in her oversized Louis Vuitton handbag, drew out a credit card, and handed it to Kerry. “You take cards, right?”
“We do,” Kerry said. “Just a moment, please.”
She plugged the square into her cell phone and swiped the woman’s card.
“That’s one thousand, one hundred and sixty dollars,” she told the woman.
“Including the wreath?”
“Well, no, since I don’t have the materials to make one today.”
“But you could get the materials, right? And make the wreath before tomorrow morning?”
