Finding Noel Read Free Page A

brownies sometime.”
    I slid the card into my shirt pocket. “Thanks.” I looked at her. “Why are you being so good to me?”
    She smiled and I saw something both beautiful and sad in her eyes. “You seem like a really nice guy who just had a lot of bad things happen to him all at once.”
    I looked down for a moment and slowly exhaled. Then I looked back into her eyes. “You might have saved my life tonight.”
    â€œI know.” She reached over and again touched my hand. “All bad things pass with time. You can trust me on that.”
    I cupped her hand with mine. “Thank you.”
    â€œMy pleasure. Take care of yourself,” she said.
    â€œYou too. Good night.” I stepped out of her car onto the curb and shut the door behind me. She pulled into the road, made a U-turn and waved once more before she drove off, disappearing behind a curtain of snow. My mother was right. Angels do walk the earth.



I went back looking for Macy.
Apparently she doesn’t exist.
    MARK SMART’S DIARY

I couldn’t get Macy out of my mind. I even dreamed about her. I felt as if I’d been sleepwalking through the past few days, and part of me wondered if I had really seen her or if she’d been the light at the end of a nightmare. Either way I knew I had to see her again.
    I borrowed my landlord’s phone and got through to the mechanic on my first call. He agreed to meet me at my car around noon, a little more than an hour from then. I quickly showered and dressed, then ran to catch the bus.
    The blizzard had passed, leaving the valley still and buried in snow. The sun was out but apparently just for show, as the air bit fiercely, turning my cheeks and ears red as I waited at the bus stop. The bus dropped me off just a few blocks east of the coffee shop, and I walked past it toward my car. The city snowplows had been by in the night and snow had been pushed clear up to my car’s windows. I now realized that I had stopped in a no-parking zone, but I couldn’t tell if I had a parking ticket. At least it hadn’t been towed. In truth, my thoughts were less on my car than they were on Macy. I checked my watch. I still had ten minutes to noon. The mechanic hadn’t arrived, so I walked into the café.
    The place was crowded, and as I looked around I suddenly felt a little anxious. What would I say to her? What if she didn’t want to see me again? I mean, you might give a panhandler a dollar, but you don’t necessarily want to bring him home for dinner.
    I went to the back of the line at the cash register. When I reached the front, a young woman with eyes rimmed with dark mascara and wearing a Bruce Springsteen T-shirt looked up and smiled at me. “What can I get for you, honey?”
    â€œI’m looking for Macy.”
    She looked at me blankly. “Macy?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAm I supposed to know who that is?”
    â€œShe works here.”
    Her brow creased. “I don’t know any Macy. Do you mean Mary?”
    â€œNo, Macy. She works the night shift.”
    The woman shook her head. “Mary works the night shift.” She turned to a coworker who was pounding coffee grounds from a grate. “You know of any Macy who works here?”
    â€œMacy?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œYou mean Mary?”
    She turned to me. “You sure you don’t mean Mary?”
    â€œNo, it’s Macy. Like the department store.”
    â€œWhat does she look like?”
    â€œShe’s small. Has short auburn hair. Big eyes. Really pretty.”
    â€œThat’s Mary.”
    â€œWhat’s her last name?” I asked.
    â€œHummel.”
    â€œNo, her last name is Wood.”
    â€œThere’s no one named Wood here.”
    I didn’t know what to say. The woman looked at me with pity, and I guessed she was thinking I had asked for the name of one of her coworkers and had been given a fake one. Or maybe I just