As Nate's stretcher disappeared down the hall, Jane wiped her eyes. Amelia sobbed in her mother's arms, all accusations against Josie forgotten. Now Amelia looked much younger than nine. She was a hurting little girl. Josie clung to her, and wished she could take away her daughter's pain. Her own eyes were wet with tears.

"Come, dear," Jane said, putting her arm around Amelia. "Let's go home. We can't do anything here. Mr. Weekler, do you want to join us? You can rest up in my guest room."

"I think I'll stay here for now," Jack said. "I'm worried about my boy. Josie, do you want to go home for a bit? Jane says you've been here since the wee hours."

"No, thanks," Josie said. She was worried, too.

Josie went back to the family waiting room. It was empty. The perpetually blaring TV was still blank-screened. No one had plugged it back in. She poured herself a cup of free coffee, grown thick as old roofing tar on the burner, and steeled herself to call her awful boss. Harry the Horrible always had some insult.

"Sorry, Josie, no work for you." Harry seemed to delight in delivering bad news. "Things are slow for mystery shoppers. Everyone a.s.sumes retail service is c.r.a.p until January. I'm sure work will pick up after the holidays."

Josie snapped her phone shut. She wasn't sure at all. She couldn't work now, not with Nate dying. But what if Harry was deliberately cutting her out of jobs? She didn't trust him.

Won't happen, she told herself. The stores ask for you personally. They like you.

A more insidious voice told her, "There's always the money in the storage locker."

You can't use it, Josie thought, and automatically straightened her spine. You haven't needed a man's money yet, and you aren't starting now. You can make it on your own.

Her cell phone rang. Josie checked the caller ID display. "Mike," she said, hoping her smile carried on her voice. "How are you?"

"Not so good," he said. "It looks like Doreen's store will close. The cops are all over her parking lot. Homicide detectives are searching the Elf House after that woman was poisoned. The police and crime-scene vehicles are keeping any customers away from the stores. You can't have a holly, jolly Christmas when customers are dying."

"I'm sorry," Josie said.

"I'm glad Heather's going to be out of that store," Mike said. "But I wish I hadn't sunk twenty thousand dollars in it."

"Maybe Doreen can recoup some of your money when she sells the building," Josie said. "It's in a prime location."

"I don't think the location is so prime anymore," Mike said. "You haven't seen today's City Gazette."

"There's a paper here in the waiting room." Josie picked a wrinkled newspaper out of the wastebasket and checked out the front-page headline. DEATH TAKES A HOLIDAY ON THE BAD-NEWS BLOCK, it screamed above two photos. One showed the church picketers circling Naughty or Nice. The other pictured police cl.u.s.tered at the entrance of Elsie's Elf House. A boxed quote in the center of the story said, "Her death is a judgment from G.o.d."

"Oh, boy," Josie said. "'Death Takes a Holiday' is a poor headline choice after an innocent woman died. 'A Judgment from G.o.d' won't sell real estate, either."

"Who wants a property where G.o.d kills the customers?" Mike asked.

"Do they have any suspects besides G.o.d?" Josie said.

"Nothing. I unclogged a drain for a friend in the department. He says the police have supposedly gone through the credit-card sales at Elsie's yesterday and cleared the people who paid that way. All innocent pillars of the community. No history of mental illness. No ties to organized crime or connections to the victim. I didn't realize Sheila Whuttner was in that Big Loser radio station contest."

"Did you know her?" Josie asked.

"I dated her daughter a few years ago," Mike said. "I didn't get along with her-or her mother."

"Maybe the station killed Sheila to save the money," Josie said.

"Nope, her death brought them a boatload of bad publicity. Take a look at page 3A."

Josie opened her newspaper and found, DYING FOR CHOCOLATE. She winced at the headline. An interview with the victim's daughter said, "My mother deserved that money. She'd lost another five pounds since her weigh-in and celebrated with a piece of chocolate cake, and it killed her. The station should pay her the fifty thousand dollars."

"Guess who inherits all her widowed mother's money?" Josie said. "I bet it's the daughter. What about Nate? He ate the poisoned chocolate, too. He's in Holy Redeemer hospital. He may die."

"That's awful. Are you with him? Why didn't you call me?" Mike said "You've been so busy," Josie said.

"Nate wasn't suicidal, was he?" Mike said.

"No," Josie said. "But he was a drug dealer."

"Do you really think drug dealers poison people with chocolate sauce?" Mike said.

"No, no, it was a crazy idea. Any word on who pushed the snow off the roof and nearly killed that poor church lady?"

"The neighbor, Edna, still insists Santa did it, but she looks a little gaga. Doreen blames Elsie, but her theory is just as crazy.

"Please let me come over and sit with you," Mike said. "You shouldn't be alone."

"I appreciate the offer, but Nate's father is here from Canada. It could be awkward."

"When will Nate be out of the hospital?"

"I don't think he's going to make it," Josie said.

"I'm sorry." Mike sounded like he meant it.

"Me, too. It's rough on Amelia."

"And you," Mike said.

There was an awkward pause. "Mike, I haven't loved Nate for a long time. Our romance has been over for years. That obnoxious drunk you saw at my home was not the Nate I loved."

"I know that, Josie. People change, and not always for the better. Especially Doreen. She gets meaner."

Josie heard a loud beep in the background. "Oops. I have to go back to work. If you need me, I'm here for you."

What about the blonde at the bookstore? Josie wondered. Where are you with her?

"Thanks," was all she said.

Josie returned to the empty ICU room. Nate's father was pacing up and down in the small s.p.a.ce. Josie could feel the tension radiating from the man. The room wasn't big enough to contain it.

"There's bad coffee in the waiting room, if you want some," Josie said.

"Thanks," Jack said. "Coffee will only make me more jittery. This is all my fault. My actions created a reckless, drunken son. I was everything Nate didn't want to be."

Sober? Josie wondered. But she let him talk, hoping he'd stop that infernal pacing.

He stopped and leaned against the wall, much to Josie's relief.

"I wanted to be a commercial pilot," he said. "It was my dream. But instead of waiting for the job I loved, I took a job that was safe and available-an administrative a.s.sistant to a director in the Ministry of Finance. That's a fancy name for a secretary. I had a boring job with a pension. I piloted a desk."

Josie couldn't imagine a man who looked like her dashing Nate settling for a safe job.

"The job paid very little. I pinched every penny until my wife ran off with a free-spending lawyer she met at an office party. Then I had another excuse to stay at my desk. I had a son to support. I wasn't going to risk my pension. The truth is, I was comfortable in my rut. Now it's too late to change.

"My son swore he'd never turn out like me. He loved flying as much as I did. Nate got his pilot's license, and made a little money. Then he started selling drugs and made a lot more. He was throwing money around like mad. He bought a plane and a helicopter, expensive clothes, a Porsche and a Harley. I was afraid he was attracting the wrong kind of attention. Anyone with half a brain would know a pilot didn't make that much money. I warned Nate, but he didn't believe anything bad could happen to him. When he was arrested and sent to jail, it broke him.

"I mortgaged everything to find him the best lawyer. Eventually, he got my son out of prison. But Nate wasn't the same man anymore. He couldn't stop drinking. I saved everything and lost it all. Nate squandered his gifts."

"Nate's a grown man," Josie said. "He's responsible for his actions."

"So am I," Jack said.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," she said. "Children need stability. I'm sorry Nate and I didn't work out. I wish Nate didn't sell drugs. I wish he'd stayed sober."

"You aren't the only one," Jack said.

"Nate would have made a wonderful father. I could tell by the way he talked to Amelia. I wish I'd stayed in touch with him."

"Why? So Nate could drag you and Amelia down, too? You don't want to mix with the crowd he hung around with, Josie. Nate was a lot of fun, but he wasn't good for the long haul. He-"

Before Jack could continue, they heard the rattle of the stretcher outside the room. Nate was back. He looked worn. Two orderlies lifted him back into bed. A nurse fussed with the sheets.

"How are you feeling, Nate?" Josie asked softly.

He didn't respond. Nate's features looked sunken and his skin was waxy yellow.

He's dying, she thought. I'm watching Nate die. She shivered in the hospital room and wished there was a way to turn up the heat.

Jack put his arm around Josie and whispered, "He doesn't look good, does he?"

"No," Josie said, her voice heavy with tears.

"Let's stay here with him, in case he wakes up and wants us."

Josie and Jack sat in companionable silence, watching Nate sleep. For some reason, Jack's remark made Josie feel like she was doing something useful. The room grew darker as night fell, but no one turned on the light.

Why would someone try to poison the customers at Elsie's Elf House? Josie wondered. She'd met Elsie. The woman didn't seem like a killer. She was too cute and friendly and yes, elflike. Maybe Doreen did it, to ruin Elsie's business. Except it ruined hers, too. And Doreen didn't exactly run over there every hour to say h.e.l.lo to her business rival. Maybe she sent her lumpish daughter.

With a big plastic jug of antifreeze to pour in the sauce? That would be a little obvious. What was Heather going to do-disguise it with holly?

Josie tried to make the pieces of this Christmas puzzle work, but nothing fit. She dozed a bit, and was awakened by her mother announcing, "I'm here to take you up on that offer of dinner, Jack."

Josie jerked upright and found a little puddle of drool on the arm of the chair.

Jane was wearing another new pantsuit, this one black with silver b.u.t.tons. It set off her freshly washed hair. Jane's makeup was perfect.

"I'm not hungry," Jack said.

"Well, I am," Jane said. "And you have to eat sometime. You won't help that boy of yours if you get sick, too. If nothing else, you can watch me eat."

Jack shrugged and obediently put on his coat.

Josie was stunned by the spectacle of her mother going after a man. So much for the old ways, Josie thought. Mom did everything but tackle the guy.

"Are you coming with us, Josie?" Jack asked. Jane seemed to have forgotten her daughter.

"Thanks, but I'll stay here," Josie said. "I'll call Mom on her cell if there's any change."

Jane hauled her catch of the day off to dinner. Josie resettled herself in the uncomfortable bedside chair and wondered why hospital chairs were always turquoise. Was there a special Medical Warehouse of Blue-Green Backbreaker Chairs?

When the room was quiet again, Josie held Nate's hand and said, "Thank you for what you said to our daughter. It will make a big difference-to her and to me. We appreciate the insurance money, too. I'll invest it and make sure Amelia goes to college."

She waited, hoping for a flicker of an eyelid. Nothing. She could have been talking to a wax figure.

"I'm sorry we didn't have more time together, Nate, but we created someone exceptional. Our daughter is the best of both of us. She won't make our mistakes."

Josie wondered if every parent believed that. She hoped it was true.

Nate gave no sign he heard her. Josie felt bone tired, as if she'd been digging ditches instead of sitting in a hospital room. She shifted her weight, trying to ease her aching back. Nate grabbed her hand, but she couldn't tell if it was on purpose or a reflex.

In the dark room, it seemed to Josie that the outline of the Nate she once knew showed through the wrecked man in the bed. She saw Nate's cheekbones in the flab on his face. She could almost believe her Nate was back.

In her mind's eye, she saw Nate the way he was on one of their first dates. She was young and carefree again, crunching through the dry leaves. She and Nate were tossing handfuls of leaves at one another and laughing.

Jane was there, too, disapproving. "You'll regret this, Josie. You're heading for trouble."

"I'm young and I want to have fun," Josie told her. "What's wrong with that?" Her voice got louder and she was screaming at her mother. Then Josie realized the scream was actually an alarm on the monitor above Nate's bed.

Nate's arms were flailing, and his body was jerking like a puppet with broken strings. Josie thought he was trying to get up, and then realized he must be having some sort of seizure.

A nurse came running into the room. "You'll have to leave," she said, and shoved Josie out the door as a team of medical professionals pushed past her. She heard someone call "code blue" and another person demanding oxygen.

"Nate," Josie said. "Nate, come back."

But she knew he was already gone.

Chapter 19.

"I hate you! I hate you!" Amelia screamed at her mother.

Josie felt as if those words were hacked into her heart with a rusty knife. There was no soothing way to tell Amelia her father was dead.