Midnight Before Christmas Read Free Page B

to be the answer. He knew the private school she sent Tommy to provided child care during nonschool hours.
    He shook his head. What a sorry thing to do. She probably wanted Tommy out of her hair. Probably just wanted him gone so she could celebrate the holidays one-on-one with Frank. How sick, and … and …
    And how interesting. How interesting.
    He zipped up his coat and headed down the street where he had parked his pickup. I will not let Christmas pass without seeing my son, he told himself. I will not allow that to happen. It isn’t right.
    He sucked in the bracing air, letting it swirl in his throat and lungs with the last traces of whiskey. I will see Tommy, he muttered resolutely. No matter what.
    I will see Tommy.
    Or no one will.

4
    M EGAN FINGERED THE SMALL cameo-encased photograph. My dear sweet mother, she thought, as she had every day for weeks now. Who would have ever thought I could miss you so? When you were alive, it seemed like all we ever did was argue. And now that you’re gone, I feel like someone cut a hole in my chest and ripped my heart out.
    She turned down the photo and forced herself to look away. It wasn’t healthy, she told herself. All this moaning and whining. Especially on Christmas Eve. The holidays were tough enough on a single woman without this kind of self-indulgence.
    But that was the head talking, not the heart. The heart was telling her that her mother, her only family, was dead, and that she would spend Christmas Eve alone.
    A growling, spitting noise erupted from the corner of her office. Jasper scooted forward and wiped his wet face against her exposed ankles.
    Yes, she would be spending Christmas Eve alone. Or worse.
    Her hand pressed against her forehead. How could this happen? How could she let it happen?
    I’m all alone, she whispered quietly to herself. I’m all alone.
    Before she had gone to law school, Megan had been an Episcopal priest. Technically she still was, she supposed, but people rarely thought of priests and lawyers as inhabiting the same body. During her eight years at St. Paul’s, she had comforted any number of lonely and despondent persons, patted their hands, said the words they needed to hear. But today those words held no meaning for her. She just didn’t believe them anymore.
    Not now. Not after April 19, 1995.
    Without thinking, her eyes rose to the row of ceramic Kewpie dolls lined up on a shelf just above her law books. The hula girl. The Eskimo. All the others.
    So many memories. So many times shared.
    And all of that was over now.
    She sat up in her chair and scanned the cluttered surface of her desk. What was she doing here in the office, anyway? She had meant to stop in for only a minute to pick up a few things, since she was downtown anyway after finishing her cookie deliveries. There was no reason for her to stay.
    But the sad thing was, there was no reason for her to go home, either.
    She heard a knock on the door. A familiar head poked through. “Is Santa in?”
    Megan looked up and tried to smile. “Ho, ho, ho.”
    Cindy Kendall strolled into Megan’s office. She was tall, with shoulder-length ink-black hair and legs that went on to infinity. She was wearing a dignified but attractive beige suit—a Harold’s special, probably. She looked like a million bucks, Megan thought, which was a value of roughly $999,999.00 more than Megan would’ve appraised herself.
    Megan rose from her chair. “What’s happening, Cindy-Lou Who?”
    “Just came by to see if you finished the cookie rounds. Looks like you did. And survived to tell the tale.”
    Megan smiled. She liked Cindy a lot, even if she was devastatingly attractive. Whenever the teenage boys who worked in the firm as clerks ran their errands, they invented excuses to linger in Cindy’s office. Megan was lucky if she got her morning mail.
    “Completed my appointed rounds, and with no injury to self or others, I’m proud to say. Even made a bit of profit.”
    “Don’t tell me one