Patrick went through a swinging door into what she assumed was the kitchen and returned a minute later with a half-full wineglass.
“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip. The wine was nicely chilled and very good. She could get used to this kind of life.
Patrick had a cut glass tumbler filled with what looked and smelled like bourbon. He clinked his glass against hers. He nodded in the direction of the living room, where Murphy and Claudia were huddled in a corner, standing very close together.
Kerry followed his gaze and laughed. “I think he’s smitten.” She raised her glass to her lips and emptied it. “I better go.”
“Already?” Patrick’s face fell. “It’s barely nine o’clock.” He gestured toward the living room. “I was thinking we could kind of hang out for a while, since it’s Gretchen’s night to have Austin.”
“Wish I could,” she said, meaning it.
“Then I’ll walk you home,” Patrick said, putting his glass down.
She almost protested but changed her mind. “That’d be nice.”
chapter 18
Patrick and Kerry were crossing the street when they saw a young couple standing hand in hand, peering into the roped-off Christmas tree stand.
“Hey,” the man called as they approached. “Are you guys open?”
“We are now,” Kerry said. Even one more tree sold today would help the bottom line.
She unfastened the bungee cord and gestured for the two to enter. Patrick sat down in Murphy’s vacant lawn chair.
The girl gestured toward Spammy. “I love the little trailer. So adorable! Does somebody actually live in it?”
“Two somebodies,” Kerry said. “And a dog. Right up until Christmas Eve.”
“Oooh! Like something out of a fairy tale,” the girl squealed.
“More like a horror story,” Kerry said, as she was sizing the couple up for their tree-buying potential.
She estimated that they were in their early twenties. The girl could have been a model for skiwear, with a pink knitted beanie pulled overher long blond hair, a white quilted jacket, and skinny jeans tucked into fur-trimmed suede boots. Her partner was also dressed for the slopes. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and had a glorious mop of strawberry-blond curls.
“This might sound kinda creepy, but is there any way I could look inside your camper?”
“Ashley, no. That’s definitely super creepy,” the boyfriend said.
The girl flashed a winsome smile. “Please?”
“It’s a big mess inside,” Kerry protested. “I’m living with a slob, and his dog sheds. And I was getting ready for a party…”
“No judgment,” Ashley promised. “Just a peek?”
Kerry sighed, then climbed up and opened the trailer door. Queenie, who’d been dozing on Murphy’s bunk, gave a short, quizzical bark, then stood and squeezed past the visitor.
Ashley poked her head inside. “It’s pink! And turquoise! And that teensy kitchen! Does it actually work?”
“Not in a long time,” Kerry told her.
“Does it have a name?”
“My mom named her Spammy; you know, because it looks like a canned ham,” Kerry said.
“Ash? I thought we were buying a tree.” The boyfriend’s voice sounded a warning.
“Oh, right.”
