Silhouette Christmas Stories

more sense than the alternative, which was that one of the people she knew had sent that box. She'd been over the list in her mind a dozen times. They all seemed unlikely, if not impossible.

Her first thought, before the box was opened, had been of her boss, Mr. James. As unpleasant as that suspicion was, it wouldn't have been the first time the lecherous old so-and-so had tried to get to Karen through her child. But she'd crossed Frank James off the list the minute she saw that broken-down old engine. It just wasn't his style. In the first place, he would never give Andrew something secondhand and in need of repair; he would buy the newest and most expensive thing available-and probably leave the price tag on it 'by accident.' And, of course, he wouldn't do it anonymously; he would want to be sure he got full credit for his generosity.

Then there was Louise, the other girl in the office with whom Karen sometimes shared lunch and minor confidences, and the closest thing she had to a friend in this town. But she had a husband who worked in the fruit- packing houses, when he could get work at all, and four school-age kids of her own. Why would she spend money and effort on Andrew?

After that, the list got very short indeed. Mrs Goldrich, the landlady? Ridiculous. She tolerated Andrew, but had never given any indication of possessing a warm or generous bone in her entire body. Mr. Clausen? Well… as a matter of fact, the old gentleman who lived in the attic apartment above Karen did seem a less unlikely candidate than some of the others. Andrew was certainly convinced he was the culprit, anyway. That morning, when they'd met on the front walk as usual, Andrew had told the old man all about his mysterious gift. Mr. Clausen had laughed, clapped him on the shoulder and said, 'So, young Andrew, Santa's come early this year, has he?' Afterward, Andrew had given his mother a superior look, one that clearly said, 'See? I know I'm right.'

Andrew's fantasies aside, the old man did seem jovial and kind, and he appeared to have a genuine fondness for the little boy. But how would an elderly and overweight gentleman who walked with a cane get such a large, cumbersome box up those stairs? And there was the question of expense. Mr. Clausen didn't appear to have much money; he lived in a tiny, one-room apartment, didn't own a car, and always wore the same suit, a vaguely dated three-piece pinstripe with an old-fashioned watch fob looped across the front of his vest. Karen had an idea that electric trains might be expensive. Even old ones in need of repair.

And that, of course, was the biggest question of all: why would anyone, friend or stranger, give a child an old, worn-out, broken-down toy? It didn't make sense.

She was still stewing about it, and having a hard time concentrating on work as a result, when Andrew arrived from school. Fortunately, while he was shrugging out of his backpack, she remembered the small package she'd purchased at the hardware store on her lunch break, scooped it up from her desktop and, in the nick of time, dropped it into her purse. Thanks to the train, Andrew seemed to have forgotten all about the mouse; with any luck, the problem would be resolved by the time he thought about it again.

'Hello, sweetheart,' she said, remembering just in time that he considered himself too grown up to need help with his jacket. 'How was your day?'

'Fine.' He held out the construction paper object he'd been carefully juggling. 'Here- I made it,' he said in the offhand way he always adopted when he was feeling especially proud of himself. 'It's a… a polyhedron. It's a Christmas ornament. You can hang it on the tree, if you want to.'

'It's beautiful,' Karen said, giving it a place of honor on her desk. 'Of course we'll hang it on our tree. Now, do you have any homework?'

'Nah, it's the Friday before vacation. No more homework 'til next year. Can we get our tree tonight? After you get off work?'

'Have you forgotten?' Karen reminded him. 'Tony's coming over to work on the train.'

'Well, he could come with us.'

For a moment she couldn't answer him. She sat there looking at her son's face, at the hopeful light that lurked behind the caution in his eyes, and felt an odd little knot form somewhere in the middle of her chest. Tony? She laughed softly and shook her head. 'Sweetheart, I think you'd have to ask him first. And by the time he gets here-'

'I could ask him now. I could go over there-'

'Not today,' Karen said firmly. 'You were over there all afternoon yesterday. I won't have you getting in Tony's way.'

'But I'm not. He lets me help him. He said-'

'Andrew, I said no. Not today.'

Andrew retired momentarily to think over his options. 'Can we go tomorrow, then? I could ask Tony tonight when he comes over.'

'Well… ' She took a deep breath and murmured, 'We'll see.'

'If we get a great big tree we're gonna need help, Mom,' Andrew pointed out, trying to give an impression of innocence by widening his eyes and looking solemn. 'Tony could help carry it.'

'Andrew, about the tree… ' Karen closed her eyes for a moment, then rested her forehead on her hand and looked down at the scratch pad on her desk so she wouldn't have to see the disappointment on her son's face when she told him the bad news. The numbers on the pad were bad enough. Even with yesterday's good news about the car repairs, money was still going to be tight this month. The heating bill, which was not included in her rent, was bound to be higher, and she and Andrew were both going to need some warmer clothes. Even if she could manage the cost of the tree, there was still the matter of decorations.

'I'll make decorations,' Andrew said when she'd explained it to him. His voice was tight, his face set and stubborn. Karen's heart sank; she knew that look. 'I can make some more poly… polyhedrons. And- and those paper chains, like I made in kindergarten.'

She drew another deep breath, this one to ease the ache in her chest. 'All right,' she whispered, caving in. 'If you really want to, sweetheart, we'll get a big one. We'll make do, somehow. Now, scoot-go on and let me get some work done!'

Andrew's small hand patted her shoulder. 'It'll be all right, Mom, you'll see,' he said with a knowing smile, and went off to make some more polyhedrons.

Karen sat with her head in her hands, rubbing at the tightness in her temples. Though it made her feel guilty to admit it, the burden of single-parenthood seemed very heavy sometimes. There was never any respite from it; that was the trouble, no chance ever to lay it down, even for a moment…

Tony could help carry it.

Andrew's innocent words popped into her head from out of nowhere, sharp and clear and as impossible to ignore as a silver bell on a holiday street corner. The thought shocked her so much that she sat bolt upright, headache forgotten, heart racing. Tony?

It was like opening the door to an overful closet; thoughts and revelations tumbled into her consciousness like an avalanche. Tony! Could Tony have sent the train? Yes! Yes, he could have. He seemed genuinely fond of Andrew; he knew where they lived; he was certainly strong enough to have carried that box up the stairs. It made sense-except for one thing. Why would he do such a thing? Why?

Andrew answered the door that evening with a breathless and eager, 'Hi.' Then, instantly curious, he blurted, 'What's that?'

Tony growled, 'It's pizza, what's it look like?'

'I didn't mean that one,' Andrew persisted unperturbed, evading the large flat box Tony had thrust at him. 'I meant that one-the bag. Is it stuff for the train?'

'You didn't have to do this,' Karen murmured, coming up behind her son.

There was something different about her tonight, Tony thought. He couldn't put his finger on anything specific, but she had a kind of radiance, an aura of suppressed excitement, as if she knew a wonderful secret and was dying to share it. Whatever it was, the excitement was contagious; he could feel his own heartbeat quicken as he handed over the pizza box.

'Here, kid, see for yourself,' he muttered, relinquishing the brown paper bag from Hoolighan's Hardware and Paint to Andrew, who promptly dropped to his knees on the floor with it in that boneless way kids have. Tony stepped over him and went after Karen, who was heading for the kitchen with the pizza. 'Look,' he said as he held the kitchen door open for her, 'I came over here to fix a train, not invite myself to dinner.'

She turned to smile at him over her shoulder. 'Are you sure it isn't that you just don't like my cooking?'

'Hey-' Tony held up his hands '-grilled cheese and ketchup happens to be a personal favorite of mine. Last