There was only one more set of windows. The little room at the end of the house was darker than the others, and it took Max’s eyes a moment to adjust before he could make anything out. And when he did, none of it made sense. There was a framed photo of a young soldier posed in a fancy army uniform. Next to the picture was a set of dog tags, a stack of letters, and a velvet box. The rest of the room was empty.
Max started to say something about how strange it was when Joe, who had come up a moment later, gasped and stepped back from the window like something had bitten him.
“What’s wrong?” Max asked.
Joe shook his head. He headed for the street, his jaw hard and his shoulders set.
Max followed, confused but also annoyed. “Do you know what that creepy room is?” he asked as he caught up to Joe.
“It’s not creepy,” Joe snapped in the snotty way that drove Max crazy.
“Yeah, it is,” Max said defiantly. “Who has a room for one picture?”
Joe turned to him, eyes blazing. “You’re an idiot,” he said.
“At least I have friends and people actually like me,” Max said, clenching his teeth and getting ready for a fight.
Joe glared a moment longer, then turned and started walking. “I’m going home,” he said.
Max knew he should just let Joe go. His gut was boiling in a way that was dangerous, that let him know if he kept going he was going to get in trouble. But he couldn’t just turn away, not this time.
“That’s right,” Max jeered. “Run home to your mama.”
Joe stopped in his tracks and turned. “You don’t talk about my mom,” he said, his voice hard and low. “Not ever.”
“Why, is she —” Max began, but then Joe moved toward him, a fist cocking back.
It wasn’t the threat of being punched that shut Max up. It was the fact that Joe’s eyes were full of tears.
“That room was a shrine for a fallen soldier,” Joe said in a shaky voice. “A hero who died for his country. A hero like my mom.”
“Wait, your mom’s a soldier?” Max asked, shocked.
Joe nodded. “She’s a marine,” he said. “She’s in the Middle East helping out with the peace initiative.”
Max remembered what he had said way back in September that had made Joe haul off and punch him. It was about Joe’s mom, a “your mama” joke, the kind the guys on the flag football team told all the time. And now, finally, Max got it: Joe’s sullen silence, the way he kept to himself — he was worrying about his mom, who was far away and in constant danger. And that was the reason he had punched Max: He was defending his mom who was out defending their country. Max had just assumed Joe was a jerk when in fact Cami was right, Joe did have a story. And the only jerk in that story, the real story, was Max. Guilt began to seep into Max, a thick fog that made him feel about three inches tall.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“That my mom is in the armed forces?” Joe asked defensively. “Because —”
“No, for what I said just now,” Max interrupted. “And for the joke I made in September.” He scuffed his toe through the snow. “You’re right. Your mom is a hero, and if she was here I’d want to thank her for what she’s doing.”
Joe shrugged, and for a second Max felt that rush of irritation, that Joe was just ignoring him again, but then he realized that Joe was swallowing hard.
A cold wind swirled around them and Max saw that Joe was shivering. “Let’s go,” he said, turning back toward town.
“Where?” Joe asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Do you have ten bucks on you?” Max asked, ignoring Joe’s question.
“Um, yeah,” Joe said. “Are you planning to blackmail me?”
Max laughed and shook his head. “We’re going to the church thrift shop to get you a decent coat.”
“My coat is fine,” Joe said.
Max gave him a sharp look. “Do I really look like an idiot to you?” he asked. “You’re miserable because that coat is useless in a real winter. And I know you don’t think you’re too good to get a coat where I get mine every year.”
There was a long silence. Joe looked at Max, then off into the distance, then back at Max. “Okay,” he said finally. “We can do that.”
Max gave a firm nod and started back toward town.
“And, Max?”
He turned.
“Thanks,” Joe said.
This place is huge,” Cami said to Lucy as they walked up the icy path to Alma Sanchez’s house. “I think she must have twenty-five rooms just for her and her cat.”
“I bet the cat likes having the room to run around,” Lucy said, trying to keep her voice light to hide how tired she was feeling. The walk to Ms. Sanchez’s house wasn’t more than a mile from Lucy’s house but tromping through the fresh snow was taxing, especially since sometimes there were ice patches or uneven sections of the sidewalk that were easy to trip on. Plus there was the stress of knowing she was slowing Cami down. Right about now Lucy was really missing Valentine.
Cami laughed as she led them up the steps. Lucy snagged the toe of her boot on the first one — it was always hard to gauge how high steps were — but Cami had her arm and she steadied herself. Cami shifted slightly to ring the bell, which Lucy heard chime inside the home. A minute later the door flew open.
“Cami, Lucy, come in,” Ms. Sanchez said.
Cami guided Lucy into a warm room that smelled of butter cookies and pine needles. If the house was as big as Cami claimed, Lucy imagined that the Christmas tree must be spectacular.
“Perfect timing!” Ms. Sanchez said. “I’m testing a Christmas cookie recipe. You’ll have to try some and tell me what you think.”
“If you insist,” Cami said in her usual friendly way.
“Thanks,” Lucy added.
“You girls make yourselves at home and I’ll be right back with the cookies,” Ms. Sanchez said.
“Here’s the sofa,” Cami said, carefully backing Lucy up so that her calves rested against the seat. “And just so you know, this whole room is lined with bookcases. She’s definitely a big reader.”
“So the bookmark could belong to her,” Lucy said, sinking down on the soft cushions.
“Yeah, she fits a lot of the profile. She’s a reader, she has money and time …” Cami said in a low voice.
“Plus she’s generous, inviting us in without even asking why we’re here,” Lucy added.
“I know,” Cami agreed. “She reminds me of my grandma, always welcoming.”
Lucy noticed a note of sadness in Cami’s voice and wondered if she should ask about it, but then she heard footsteps coming down the hall toward them and a moment later Ms. Sanchez was back, the smell of cookies even more powerful.
“Lucy, here’s your plate,” Ms. Sanchez said, handing it to Lucy and making sure she had it securely before letting go. “How’s that dog of yours?”
At this Lucy smiled, remembering how kind Ms. Sanchez had been on the street that day. “She’s great, thanks,” Lucy said. Lucy waited until she heard Cami crunching into her cookie, then she felt for hers. It was in the shape of a candy cane and studded with rough sugar sprinkles. Lucy took a bite, the luscious buttery cookie just the right amount of sweet. “Delicious,” she said when she had swallowed.
“Mm-hm,” Cami agreed. “These are fantastic.”
“Thank you,” Ms. Sanchez said, sounding pleased. “Oh, are either of you allergic to cats? I think Naomi is coming in to pay a visit.”
Lucy shook her head, and a moment later she heard a soft thump as the cat jumped up on the sofa and came over to sniff Lucy’s hand, her whiskers soft against Lucy’s skin. Lucy let Naomi sniff her for a moment, then began to pet her. Naomi kneaded her paws into the sofa and started to purr.
“She likes you,” Ms. Sanchez said.
Lucy smiled. “I like her too,” she said.
“She’s beautiful,” Cami said, reaching over to pet Naomi as well.
Then Lucy felt Cami shift sl
ightly on the sofa and knew she was about to bring up the excuse they’d planned for knocking on Ms. Sanchez’s door in the first place. “So we came by because we know you lead the town choir Christmas caroling on December twenty-first and I had kind of a special request for when you come by our place. My grandmother’s favorite carol is ‘Go Tell It on the Mountain’ and I was wondering if you guys could sing it for her.”
“I’d be happy to,” Ms. Sanchez said. “And how thoughtful of you to think of it.” Lucy heard her pick up another cookie.
“Well, she does a lot for me,” Cami said. “And she just loves everything about Christmas in Pine River.”
“Don’t we all,” Ms. Sanchez said.
Now it was Lucy’s turn and she sat up a little straighter, accidentally startling the cat. “I love the Christmas Gala.” She tried to make her rehearsed line sound natural, but she felt like her voice was coming out stiff. “Every year the concert is just amazing.” Lucy tried again. “Totally amazing.” She was glad Max was not here to see her total spy fail.
“We’ll all be looking forward to your part in that,” Ms. Sanchez said to Cami.
Lucy was surprised when Cami said nothing, but she pressed on with the script. “And of course there’s the Angel Tree,” she said, like it had just in that moment occurred to her.
“Yeah, it’s already granted some pretty incredible wishes,” Cami added.
“Like the new house for the Callahans,” Ms. Sanchez said. “Ed Pink was telling me about it. Wow, imagine all the work it would take to set up such a thing.”
Of course whoever was behind the tree would pretend to be impressed by it, to hide his or her tracks. Lucy listened intently for any inflections that might indicate Ms. Sanchez was hiding something. But either Ms. Sanchez wasn’t GB, or she was a much better actor than Lucy.
“The person behind the tree is truly an angel,” Ms. Sanchez went on passionately. “A maker of miracles.”
Lucy heard Cami slump slightly next to her and had to admit that this wasn’t sounding good. Yes, GB would cover the truth but he or she probably wouldn’t go around boasting about the work the tree did.
“We’re lucky to live in a town with a person who would create such a special and unique tradition,” Ms. Sanchez said. “It’s a blessing.”
Lucy sank back deeper into the sofa cushions. They could probably cross Ms. Sanchez off the list of possible GBs.
“Girls, is everything okay?” Ms. Sanchez asked.
Lucy realized she had let her face fall into a frown. She was definitely not good at hiding her true feelings.
“No, it’s just, we’re kind of on a mission to find out who’s behind the Angel Tree,” Cami said.
“Isn’t the whole point of the Angel Tree that the identity of the organizer is a secret?” Ms. Sanchez asked.
“Yes,” Cami said. “But whoever is behind the tree has been doing it for so many years and has never been thanked. We wanted to change that.”
There was a tiny rustle that was either Ms. Sanchez shaking her head or nodding. Sometimes not being able to see was frustrating.
“You know, I like that idea,” Ms. Sanchez said. “The person bringing so much joy to our town should get some joy coming back her way.”
So she had been nodding.
“Her?” Cami asked, her voice suddenly alert. “You think it’s a woman?”
Ms. Sanchez laughed. “You’re quite the detective. Well, I’m not sure. But every so often when I help out with a bigger wish I get a handwritten note and the writing looks like a woman’s writing.”
“Do you have a note?” Cami asked eagerly.
“I do,” Ms. Sanchez said. Lucy could hear the smile in her voice as she stood up and opened a drawer in a desk or table at the far side of the room. “Here you go,” she said, walking back and handing it to Cami.
Cami cleared her throat. “Okay, this is what it says: ‘Please give your donated ornaments to Ed Pink on Saturday afternoon.’”
“Not a lot to get from that, I don’t think,” Ms. Sanchez said.
“No, but the writing is very, um, curly,” Cami said, clearly trying to stay positive. “It kind of looks like my grandma’s.”
Ms. Sanchez laughed. “That would be quite the mystery to uncover — your own grandmother being the one behind the Angel Tree.”
Cami laughed. “She would totally do something like that, but there’s no way she could keep it a secret from me.” Her voice had a little of its bounce back, but Lucy could tell she was still discouraged that Ms. Sanchez was not GB. And Lucy had to admit she felt the same. She rubbed Naomi’s head, feeling slightly comforted by the cat’s steady purr.
“We should probably get going,” Cami said, her coat brushing against the sofa as she stood.
They thanked Ms. Sanchez for the cookies, gave Naomi one last pat, and began the trip back to town.
“Ruling people out is an important part of the process,” Cami said as they walked. Lucy was starting to know Cami well enough that she could tell that the upbeat, adult tone covered her disappointment.
“It is,” Lucy agreed staunchly. “And what’s good is that we found out so fast that it’s not Ms. Sanchez. That way we’re not wasting time on a false lead. Plus the note is a great clue.”
“Good point,” Cami said a bit more cheerfully. “It really did look like a woman’s writing, so we can include that on our list of traits.”
A car drove past slowly and the driver honked. “It’s Ms. Clayton,” Cami said, waving at one of the owners of Hobby Horse, a craft shop in town. Lucy waved too. “That reminds me, actually,” Cami went on. “I wanted to get some yarn for my grandmother. She’s crocheting a scarf for my cousin Willa.” Lucy heard a note of tension when Cami said her cousin’s name. “And she needs more gold. Would you mind if we stopped off at the Hobby Horse before I take you home?”
“No, that’s fine,” Lucy said. She would have preferred to go straight home and rest but of course she was happy to make the stop for Cami. If she had more energy, she’d get some yarn for the sweater she was knitting her mom for Christmas but right now the thought of a long conversation about getting just the right shade of green made her want to take a nap.
A few minutes later they were back on Main Street and Cami was opening the door to the Hobby Horse, which smelled of lavender and wool. “Do you mind if I run in and get the yarn?” Cami asked.
“Sure, I’ll just wait here,” Lucy said. The store was crowded with voices and smells, and Lucy felt a headache tapping at her temples. She stepped backward and felt her hip brush against something that fell to the floor with a series of loud crashes. Someone gave out a small cry and a number of people gasped. Lucy’s whole body clenched up as she waited to hear what had happened, what she had done.
“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” It was Ms. Clayton, still smelling like the crisp outside air. “Just be careful you don’t hurt yourself, Lucy.”
Lucy didn’t know what she meant or how exactly she was supposed to protect herself. She felt naked and helpless, like a baby unable to do the simplest thing. It did not help when Cami came up sounding panicked.
“Lucy, I’m so sorry I left you so close to that display,” Cami said, grabbing onto Lucy’s arm and walking her away from whatever mess she had created. “I wasn’t even thinking about how delicate it was and how easy it would be to knock into it.”
“What was it?” Lucy asked, feeling close to tears.
“Um, some crystal figurines and a couple of glass vases,” Cami said.
“And they’re all broken?” Lucy asked, shame flooding her.
“I’m not sure,” Cami said distractedly. Of course she didn’t want to be explaining every little detail to Lucy when she was probably angry at her for being so careless.
“I’m so sorry,” Lucy said, but her words were lost in the sounds of a vacuum turning on and the clinky whoosh of the shards of glass and crystal being sucked up.
Cami apologized to Ms. Clayton about a thousa
nd times, which only made Lucy feel worse. After all, it wasn’t Cami’s fault that Lucy was a klutz. Finally Cami took Lucy’s arm and walked them out into the icy air that cooled Lucy’s hot face.
“I’m really sorry,” Lucy said as Cami led her home.
“Don’t worry, it wasn’t your fault,” Cami said, but she sounded distant.
“It was, actually,” Lucy said, her voice brittle. “And I’m sorry you didn’t get the yarn either.”
“Really, Lucy it’s all fine,” Cami said. Lucy thought she detected a note of impatience in Cami’s voice and decided to let it drop, even though the whole thing felt like a lump of coal in her belly.
They walked the rest of the way to Lucy’s in silence.
Once she was up in her room, Lucy lay down on her bed. She had a message from Anya but she didn’t feel like calling her friend back now. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. At least not any person.
Instead she rested her cheek against Valentine’s soft fur. “It was a mistake for me to go,” she told the dog, whose tail thumped on the floor when she heard Lucy’s voice. “I made everything harder, just like I knew I would.” She rubbed Valentine’s ears and was rewarded with a lick on her hand.
Lucy was thankful that Valentine would be back at school with her on Monday, and still endlessly grateful to the person behind the Angel Tree, who had saved her dog’s life. Which was the only reason she was going to go to the meetings after school. But from here on out, no matter how bad it made her feel, she was going to be firm: no more outings where she would make a mess of things.
Cami picked at the grilled cheese on the plate in front of her, if you could call it that. She’d tried to make lunch, but ended up with a charred crisp of a sandwich. She could hear her grandmother in the other room, chatting on the phone with her aunt about Willa’s latest accomplishment. Worst of all, Cami couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened with Lucy. And she had no idea how to apologize without making Lucy feel even worse.
A moment later her grandmother popped her head in. “I need to pick up a few things at the grocery,” her grandmother said. “Come along and keep me company.”
The Angel Tree Page 8