Hanging up the phone, she found a foil pie plate, some scissors, and an ice pick. Then she cut the plate into a star shape, used the ice pick to poke holes parallel with the star’s edges, and, after a moment’s hesitation, poked more holes in the shape of a heart at the center of the star. Then, she took out a bottle of champagne and set it in the snow pile beside her doorstep, tucked her travel bag under her bed, and changed into a bright green, tunic- length sweater and some black velvet leggings. Finally, she took out red tissue paper and used some to wrap the homemade gift.
Liz was rummaging in her freezer for something to cook when Tom rang her doorbell. Before opening the door to him, Liz turned on her fireplace switch and ran her fingers through her hair. Tom stood on the doorstep grinning, but even as he picked up the tree to carry it indoors, he remembered to wipe his feet on the mat.
As Tom carried the tree into the room, trunk end first, so as not to snap any of its branches against the doorjamb, Liz said, “Oh, but I don’t have a tree stand.”
“Maybe you do,” Tom winked. “I think it’s time to open the present wrapped in the reindeer paper.”
Sure enough, the package contained a tree stand. While Tom cut off the bottom of the trunk with a saw he’d thought to bring, Liz went back to her freezer and examined it with disappointing results. But she did have the makings of crepes, so she made up a batch of crepe batter and set it in the refrigerator to settle. Then she steadied the tree while Tom locked it into the stand.
Crawling out from under the tree, Tom said, “I’ll bet you’re wondering what you’ll use to decorate it, aren’t you? Don’t worry. If you put enough lights on the tree, you almost don’t need any ornaments. But if you’ve got a needle and thread, I’ve got the makings of a garland. You’d better open present number two, in the snowman paper.”
Liz opened the cylindrical package and found it was a jar of popcorn kernels.
“I’ll be right back,” Tom said, pulling on his jacket and running out to his truck.
By the time Tom returned with a perforated metal popping box on a long handle, Liz had set about peeling four apples, which she sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon and set to simmer in a pot on the stove.
“I could have brought microwaveable popcorn but I knew you had the fireplace and I thought this would be more fun,” Tom said, pouring kernels into the boxy popper.
“Where did you get that thing?”
“Scouts. I bet I never told you I’m a Boy Scout leader. I got this to take on our Camporees. Here,” Tom said, “you hold it over the heat while I get the lights on the tree.”
“What’s a ‘Camporee’?”
“It’s when a bunch of troops get together and camp in one place. We always have a big campfire with all the boys together.”
While the aroma of apples mixed with the fragrance of fresh popcorn in the little house by the turnpike, Tom attached lights to the tree in a slapdash manner.
“Doesn’t matter how evenly you place them if you’ve got enough of them,” he explained.
Any doubts Liz might have had about the wisdom of his words were erased when he turned out the table lamps and the two stood together gazing at the illuminated tree.
“It’s beautiful,” Liz said, “and even more lovely for the surprise of it all,” she said, placing her gift for him under the tree. “Maybe you’d better open the gift I made for you.”
“Let’s wait,” Tom said. “If you don’t mind, that is. I don’t want this all to be over too soon.”
“Neither do I,” Liz agreed. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by Tom’s smile, she returned to the stove to stir the apples and make the crepes. Meanwhile, Tom arranged his two remaining gifts under the tree and then, opening the sewing box Liz pointed out to him, he set about stringing popcorn on thread.
When the crepes were ready, Liz spread a tablecloth on the floor in front of the tree, set a votive candle in a glass globe between herself and her friend, and asked Tom to bring in the champagne. After he’d popped the cork and filled two glasses, Liz produced the plates of apple-filled crepes. Sitting cross-legged on the old tablecloth, facing one another, the reporter and the billboard hanger raised their glasses in a toast.
“God bless us every one!” Tom said, smiling broadly. “The two of us in particular.”
“If you haven’t got a penny a ha’penny will do. When I haven’t got a Christmas tree, I’ll call on you!” Liz sang, laughing.
It was such a delicious experience, sitting in the glow of the Christmas tree, that Liz was loath to go to the door in answer to an unexpected knock. But she did get up and looked through the small windowpane to see who was on her doorstep. Partially hidden behind a lavish bouquet of white chrysanthemums, deep red roses, and holly, she saw Cormac Kinnaird.
Staggered, she nonetheless gathered together some vestige of poise and opened the door to him.
“I know I behaved appallingly the other night,” the doctor said. “I’m like that sometimes. But I wanted you to have these.”
“They’re lovely,” Liz said, taking the flowers. “Would you like to step in and meet my friend Tom?” she added, stepping back from the doorway.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you had a—a guest. I would never have barged in, had I known.”
“Please, join us in some champagne,” Tom said in a friendly tone that contrasted with the expression of sad perplexity on his face.
“I wouldn’t think of it. I’m interrupting,” the doctor said. “But thank you—both.”
After Cormac Kinnaird left, Liz carried the bouquet to her kitchen counter, pulled out a large spaghetti pot, filled it with water and set the stems in it.
“Aren’t you going to get a vase?” Tom asked. “It’s a nice bouquet.”
“I don’t have a big enough vase for it. And, even if I did, I don’t want to take the time away from our celebration to arrange them now. They’re in water. They can wait.”
Liz returned to her position across from Tom on the tablecloth.
“You’re probably wondering who that was.”
“That’s your business.”
“You’re right in more ways than you think. He’s someone I’ve met through my job—a forensics guy who’s helping me on the missing mom case.”
Tom made no reply.
“To return to more important things,” Liz said, “it’s time for you to open a present.”
This time, Tom was ready for his gift. Opening it with care, he smiled widely when he saw the heart at the center of the homemade star. And when he reached out for Liz’s hand and clasped it tightly she needed no words from him to realize how much it meant to him.
“Merry Xmas, Tom,” Liz said, pronouncing the “X” in honor of the billboard display.
“Merry Xmas to you, too,” he replied, handing her a small present in a jewelry box.
Liz was concerned. An expensive gift on top of providing an instant Christmas would be too much, she thought.
But Tom must have known that would be the case.
Slowly lifting the lid of the jewelry box, Liz looked inside and burst into gleeful laughter. The box contained a key ring and chain, on the end of which dangled a brass monkey.
If Tom had any concerns that his gift would be underwhelming after the arrival of Cormac Kinnaird’s magnificent bouquet, those worries were wiped out when Liz stood up, pulled Tom to a standing position, too, and threw her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug.
“Something’s missing! We need some music,” she said, removing the Erik Satie CD from the CD player and replacing it with a Bing Crosby Christmas album. As Bing crooned “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas,” Liz sat down and began to string popcorn for the tree.
“Wouldn’t you like to string some more, too?” she asked Tom, who remained standing.
“Not yet. There’s something else missing, too, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see,” Tom said. And picking up the ice pick, scissors, and strips of pie plate Liz had forgotten to clear off her desk, he set about fashioning a ring of foil with holes punched in it. Borrowing an extra needle and thread from Liz, he sewed the ring to the back of the star, making use of the holes Liz had punched on one of the star’s points. Then, he took Liz’s hands and pulled her to a standing position. Standing on a chair, he slipped the tin ring over the topmost point of the tree.
