A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree (6 page)
Read A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree Online
Authors: Janet Dailey
Nicole turned her face up to his. “You helped. Thanks,” she said softly.
He hoped the sparkle in her eyes wasn’t just a reflection from the window. The soft radiance in her expression made him feel a little weak. He had never wanted to kiss a woman more than he wanted to kiss her at that moment, that was for damn sure. But they weren’t alone on the sidewalk. A few people had already stopped in front of them to gaze into the window.
She turned her face away. The moment passed. She went back inside, staying ahead of him.
Sam took a last look at what they’d created, then followed her. Nicole was talking to Bob and Hank.
“Good work, guys. Don’t forget that we still have to do the window on the other side.”
Hank was slinging tools into a diamond-patterned metal box. “When? Do you have a design? ”
“I’ll come up with something,” she said briskly. “Give me a day or two. We all want to get paid. Sam, what’s your schedule like?”
Her tone was matter-of-fact. He must have imagined the look in her eyes when they were outside. So much for magic.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Let me check with Greg and get back to you.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She walked around the work area, switching off the aluminum-shaded lights and gathering materials. “Bob, can you bring the van around to the front? There’s a lot of leftover stuff here. Would you mind if I stashed it in the back for now?”
“Won’t be in my way. Go ahead,” the burly man answered. “I could bring it by your building tomorrow.”
“All right,” she said absently.
Sam fished in his shirt pocket for the parking stub and handed it to Bob. His cell phone rang a second later. “Maybe that’s Greg,” he said to Nicole.
She nodded without interest.
He looked at the number, not recognizing it, and answered anyway. “Hello?”
“Sam Bennett, please,” said a tenor voice.
“Who is this?”
“Your landlord.”
“Huh?”
“You sublet my apartment, remember? I’m Alex Walcott. We met once.”
The light dawned. “Oh, right. Sorry. Just wasn’t thinking.”
“I understand.” Alex chuckled. “Christmas is just around the corner. Anyway, the cruise show came through. I’m going to be an elf.”
That fit. Sam remembered that Alex was short. Really short.
“We sail at dawn. You’ll need a key. Come by and I’ll give you the official tour.”
Sam hadn’t actually seen the apartment. He’d followed Theo’s advice to pounce on it once the old man had introduced them.
Sammy boy, you can trust Alex. I trust him. A customer for years. Cheap sublets don’t grow on trees in New York. The trailer’s getting crowded.
Sammy boy, you can trust Alex. I trust him. A customer for years. Cheap sublets don’t grow on trees in New York. The trailer’s getting crowded.
The deal had been done right there at the Christmas tree lot, in cash. Half in advance, half to come when the key changed hands.
“When?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Alex said. “I’m going to be up all night packing.”
Sam hung up. Nicole was still busy. He picked up whatever else was lying around and set it on the worktable, then reached for his jacket.
“You heading home?” Bob asked. Nicole straightened up with a bag of scrap lumber and turned to look at Sam.
“In that general direction,” Sam said cheerfully. “Anything else you guys need a hand with here?”
“No,” Nicole said. “Thanks again.”
“All right. I’ll check in with you about the other window when I get a chance,” Sam replied.
He turned onto Theo’s block—he’d thought of it that way from the first, never mind the street sign. But he was on the opposite end from the Christmas tree lot.
The sublet couldn’t be more convenient. He went up the worn sandstone stairs and rang the bell for 1-A, under a tattered slip of paper that said
WALCOTT.
WALCOTT.
The outer door buzzed and he heard the lock release. Sam pushed the door in and stopped at the inside door, waiting for a second buzz.
Absently, he looked down at the entryway floor, realizing that he’d seen versions of it all over New York. In hallways. In bathrooms. The tiles were tiny white octagons with a decorative border. In an old building like this, some of the tiles were chipped, but someone kept them clean.
That would be the super. He reminded himself to ask for the guy’s name, in case anything needed fixing.
He tried the inside door. Still locked. Alex Walcott seemed to have forgotten to press the second buzzer. Sam went outside and pressed the apartment bell again.
Simultaneously, the buzzer rang and an apartment door in the narrow hallway opened with a bang.
Alex waved to him. Sam didn’t remember his hair being green. “Sorry! I was looking for my tap shoes!” He dashed back in.
“Not a problem.” Sam walked to 1-A and went to the door his landlord had left open.
“Come on in,” Alex said. “Did the green hair scare you? Job requirement. I don’t even want to look in a mirror.” His voice was muffled. Sam heard hangers being scraped along a rod. “Make yourself at home.” Thumps and scrabbling sounds came from the depths of the single closet, and a box flew out.
Sam paused on the sill. Five more steps and he would reach the opposite wall of the single room. The furniture was sized to fit, he noticed. Elf-size.
Whatever. He would manage. The place looked clean and comfortable. If he shoved the coffee table to one end of the miniature couch, he could even stretch out enough to sleep. He didn’t see a bed.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Alex said. He came out from the closet, tap shoes in hand. “Sit down, please. Would you like a drink? Soda, wine, beer?”
“I’ll have a beer, sure.”
Sam sat down on the sofa as Alex bagged the shoes and tossed them into an unzipped suitcase already bulging with clothes.
“The show provides costumes, but I have to have my lucky shoes,” he explained.
In a couple of steps, Alex was in the alcove that served as a kitchen. Even the refrigerator was small. But it looked new and so did the stove. Sam noticed a row of pots and pans, neatly hung. He could do his own cooking, if he wanted to.
Alex returned with a couple of frosty bottles and handed one over. He unfolded a chair and positioned it on the other side of the coffee table, sitting down himself and taking a long swallow.
“Ah. I needed that,” he said with satisfaction.
“Looks like you’re almost ready to go,” Sam said conversationally.
“Yeah. The suitcase is full. But I have to go over to my girlfriend’s apartment and help her pack. I got her into the pixie chorus as an understudy.”
Sam laughed and took a sip of beer, shaking his head. “Never, ever volunteer to help a woman pack. You will always do it wrong.”
Alex raised his bottle to that. “You’re right. But if I help her, she will actually be ready on time, no tears, no craziness, no going back. Bermuda, here we come.”
The phone rang, and Alex reached toward a side table to answer it. Sam guessed he was talking to his girlfriend. He looked around the apartment while he drank his beer, trying to figure out where the bathroom was.
A narrow door near the corner was shut. That had to be it. The only other interior door belonged to the closet that Alex had been rifling through.
“See you in about half an hour, okay? Love you too.” Alex hung up. “Okay. Let’s get started. Here’s a set of keys.”
He extracted them from his sweatpants and put them down on the table.
“Thanks.” Sam slid a hand into his inside jacket pocket. “Here’s the rest of the advance.”
Alex didn’t bother to count it. The bills went right into his wallet.
“You know how the door works. There’s the buzzer.” He pointed to a metal square with plastic buttons by the door. “No intercom, by the way. But you can see who rang if you stick your head out the front window. Careful of the bars.”
He gestured toward it, and Sam turned around. He could just make out the wrought iron that protected the glass.
“The couch you’re sitting on folds out,” Alex continued. “Sheets in the closet, extra pillows in the coffee table, electric blanket with dual controls.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sam said.
For an elf, Alex seemed like a regular guy. He didn’t ask any questions about Sam having company.
“And don’t worry about kicking up the thermostat if you do open a window. We have steam heat. ”
Alex patted the radiator next to him, like it was a good old dog. Sam was getting the idea. If you sat right in the middle of the apartment, you could pretty much reach everything you needed.
“That means you can’t control the temperature. The super does. But he’s pretty good about keeping the boiler going. I saw it once. It’s ancient. A real monster.”
“That reminds me. I meant to ask you for his name.”
Alex grabbed a piece of paper and jotted it down.
“Norm Krajek. He lives in the basement apartment with his wife. Big guy, middle-aged, bald, broken nose. You’ll see him around.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“If anything gets busted, don’t ask him to fix it. He shows up with a can of wood putty and slaps it on the problem. Besides the boiler, he doesn’t have a clue.”
“Got it.”
Alex tipped his head back and finished off his beer. Sam did the same. “You don’t have to check the mailbox. I put a hold on it for the rest of the month. They won’t deliver. Any other questions?” Alex asked.
“That about covers it.” Sam rose, trying not to bump into the coffee table. “Nice place, by the way. I’ll take good care of it.”
Alex got up to shake his hand. “Thanks. You can move in tomorrow morning.” He slapped Sam on the back. “I’ll walk you to the door,” he joked.
That took a grand total of three steps.
Sam went back the way he’d come to pick up takeout, deciding on pad Thai. The spicy noodles would take the chill off the night. If he walked fast, they’d stay hot all the way back to the trailer.
The thought that he had only one more night to sleep there restored his good mood, and he’d enjoyed the meeting with his landlord. He got to the Thai place and gave the counterman his order, then sat down at a banquette to wait.
An array of china statues and twisted bamboo in low vases at the cash register caught his eye. He guessed they were there for good luck. Right now, he was feeling like he had his share of that. Except maybe with Nicole.
An old lady in a silk jacket brought over a cup of fragrant hot tea he hadn’t ordered, bowing slightly when he thanked her and shuffling away. He took off his gloves and held the cup until it cooled a little, thinking about Nicole and her standoffishness after they had gone outside to look at the window.
He figured he’d blown it by not kissing her. But not permanently. Maybe they were both nervous. He could be overestimating her city-girl confidence.
Sam pondered the matter. She could have just been through a bad breakup; he didn’t know. Nicole definitely didn’t seem like the type who regaled a guy with the details of things like that. Or maybe she just wasn’t interested in fooling around with someone who was only passing through.
Which he was. Sam was getting a huge kick out of New York so far, but he didn’t belong here.
Still and all, he’d never met anyone like Nicole. Maybe he’d just ticked her off temporarily. Hmm. There were tried-and-true ways to deal with that.
The counterman brought his order, and Sam eased out of the banquette. He paid at the register, where the old lady was perched on a stool. He put the change into a small dish full of other coins that was set in front of the statues.
She broke into a smile. “You have happiness now. Take care.”
He smiled back and turned toward the door. “Thanks. You too. Good night.”
Chapter 4
O
nly a few people were out, hurrying home, like him. No eye contact, no hellos, but Sam was getting used to that. Not paying too much attention, he passed the right street and had to backtrack.
nly a few people were out, hurrying home, like him. No eye contact, no hellos, but Sam was getting used to that. Not paying too much attention, he passed the right street and had to backtrack.
Turning the corner, he saw a mother with a couple of kids coming toward him. Bundled up, but they looked familiar. Several more long strides and he was close enough to recognize the Fultons. They were going up the stairs—the stoop, he reminded himself—of an old apartment building up the street from the Christmas tree lot.
He did a double take. As of tomorrow, that was his apartment building. Theo hadn’t mentioned that Maureen and her two kids would be his neighbors when he’d introduced them, but they had all been in a hurry that day.
Step by step, Maureen was half pulling, half lifting the stroller in which a cherubic Amanda slept. Douglas held grocery bags in both hands.
Sam closed the remaining distance in running strides, gripping the take-out bag to keep it from swinging.
“Hold up,” he called.
Maureen turned her head to peer anxiously down the shadowy street. Her son had the same wary look.
Sam stopped at the stoop and tipped his Stetson to her. “It’s me. Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to give you a hand. We met the other day at Theo’s lot. I’m Sam.”
“Oh,” Maureen said, sounding relieved. “Yes, I remember you.”
She bent over to check on Amanda, and he tucked the takeout into a broken part of the railing. If someone swiped it, what the hell. He could go back and get more.
Sam bounded up the worn stone stairs and reached for the stroller when she was ready to let go, handling it carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping child. Maureen took a moment to catch her breath, holding on to the wrought iron banister at the side.
“I have the key,” Douglas said. He went around Sam and set down the bags he was carrying at the top of the stairs, digging in the pocket of the plaid jacket and retrieving several keys on a shoelace.
Sam waited for him to unlock the exterior door and went inside with the stroller while Douglas held the door open for his mother, then gathered up the grocery bags in one hand and clicked the door shut with the other.
“You’re pretty strong,” Sam said encouragingly. “That looks like a couple days’ worth of groceries. ”
“More like a week.” But Doug seemed pleased and he wasn’t complaining. Again Sam had the impression that he was a capable kid for his age.
The vestibule was crowded with all four of them in it, and he barely managed to set the stroller down. Amanda might be only three but she was no lightweight. Maybe it was all the winter bundling. He didn’t remember her having that heavy blanket thing over her the other day.
Maureen opened the inner door with her own key and gestured him and her son inside. “Thanks so much,” she murmured. “I really appreciate it.”
Sam could have done the opening. He had the same keys in his pocket. “Glad to help. We’re going to be neighbors. Sort of.” He gestured toward 1-A. “I’m subletting that apartment for December.”
“Oh.” Maureen seemed surprised. “Do you know Alex?”
“Theo introduced us. He got a job as an elf on a cruise ship show.”
Maureen smiled. “Now that you mention it, he told me once he was a song-and-dance man. Well, I’m glad he has work.”
“He seemed happy about it,” Sam said.
An unsubtle sigh issued from Douglas, who looked tired of listening to adults talk. “All right,” his mother said. “Up we go.”
Not one sound came from the first-floor apartment as they passed the door. Sam guessed Alex had gone off to round up his girlfriend.
“What floor do you live on?” Sam asked.
He glanced toward the narrow interior stairs set back in the hall, made of marble that had hollowed in the center from generations of trudging feet.
She hesitated. “The third. She usually doesn’t fall asleep like this. I don’t want to wake her up.”
A little girl like Amanda still wouldn’t go very fast up that many stairs. “Of course not. Lead the way,” he said, hoisting the stroller again.
“We can manage. Believe me, we’ve done it before.”
“I hold the foot part and Mom holds the handles,” her son chimed in.
Sam smiled and shook his head. “Nothing doing. Glad I came along in time.” He went up the stairs after Douglas, who followed his mother.
The grocery bags swung in the kid’s hands, bumping into the iron spirals of the staircase railing. Douglas pulled the bags closer to him, looking into one. “Christmas cookies,” he announced. “Awesome, Mom.”
Maureen stopped to turn around and take that particular bag from him. “Those are for after you do your homework.”
And on they went, up another flight of stairs. Maureen stayed in the lead.
Another week in New York and Sam thought he could climb a mountain, easy. He heard a slight sound from the stroller and glanced down to see round blue eyes staring back at him. “Hello,” he said softly to the little girl. “Remember me?”
Amanda’s lower lip began to tremble and she scrunched up her face. Apparently she didn’t.
The sharp sound of her indrawn breath as she prepared to wail got her brother’s attention. He set down the grocery bags on the second-floor landing. “Amanda, don’t cry. That’s Sam. He’s helping Mom.”
The boy took her hand when Sam got to the landing. Douglas distracted his little sister long enough for all of them to reach the third floor and the door that Maureen had unlocked with her own key.
She waited inside, holding it open. “Well, look who woke up,” she said, laughing. “Amanda, I hope you’re not planning to stay up late after a nap like that.”
Douglas took the bags a few more steps into a tiny kitchenette as his mother unbuckled his sister, and Sam looked around.
The apartment was small, but welcoming, painted in warm yellow with prints and posters decorating the walls. He noticed lots of books and a wide-screen TV. Cozy was the word for it.
Freed from her snowsuit, Amanda went straight for a set of shelves at her level. “Buster!” she cried, grabbing a one-eyed, three-legged stuffed thing that looked something like a bear. It had been mended several times until the mender, who Sam suspected was Maureen, had finally given up.
Amanda flopped on the sofa, hugging her beloved toy and murmuring to it.
“I’d ask you to stay but...” Maureen began, slipping off her coat and taking her son’s plaid jacket from him. She looked through the crowded but neat front closet for hangers as she finished the sentence. “Douglas has a ton of homework and I have housework.” She gestured vaguely toward the immaculate kitchenette.
“Hey, I understand,” Sam hastened to assure her.
She smiled, straightening the lilac sweater she wore over neat black pants. He noticed that the sweater matched the coat she’d just hung up and remembered that she had worn the same outfit on her way to an interview yesterday. Maybe she’d gone on another today.
Maureen pushed at the jackets and coats, closing the closet door with a firm click. She turned to him. There was something just as closed in her expression. He decided against asking how her job search was going.
“Thank you again for helping,” she said, looking toward Amanda. “Honey, do you want to say good-bye to Sam?”
“No,” said the little girl. “I don’t know him.”
Sam chuckled at Maureen’s mock glare in Amanda’s direction.
“He’s going to be our neighbor,” she chided her daughter. Amanda ignored him. “Be polite. ”
“It’s okay,” Sam said with a smile. The little girl was hugging the toy even harder. A clump of stuffing came out. Love was tough on everyone.
He nodded to Douglas, who was pulling out schoolbooks from underneath the coffee table. “Have a good night, everyone.”
He exchanged good-byes with Maureen, stopping on the mat outside it for a moment when she closed the door. He reached in his pocket for the gloves he’d stuffed on top of the thin caps he’d bought, holding onto the gloves when a cap fell out. Just like the vendor had said when he’d bought ’em: one to wear, one to lose. Sam bent to retrieve it, then put on his gloves.
“Did you get either of those jobs, Mom?” he heard Douglas ask through the door.
“No,” she answered. “They needed a person who could work nights and I can’t, not with you and Amanda. But I’ll find something. Don’t worry. ”
Sam held the cap in one hand, not bothering to put it back on. It was only a short walk to the lot once he was outside. He headed for the stairs, looking thoughtful.
He was back in the trailer before he realized he’d forgotten the take-out order he’d stuck inside the broken railing. Sam settled for a pop-top can of ravioli, served cold.
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