Chapter 3.

Heather was pouting. It was not a pretty sight. She'd set her elbow on the frosting knife, and it left a grease spot on her sweatshirt sleeve. Josie could see-and smell-that Doreen was not spending money on new clothes for the girl. That sweatshirt was faded and faintly musty. Josie wondered if Doreen had bought it at a garage sale and neglected to wash it.

Heather's lower lip stuck out like a shiny tumor. Her blue eyes were small, hard stones. How could any child who looked like hunky Mike be so homely? It was a cruel joke by Mother Nature that Mike's daughter had his manly chin, strong frame, and broad shoulders, topped by her mother's unruly hair.

"Come on, honey. Working at a Christmas store is not that bad," Mike said. "You're one of Santa's helpers."

"We sell p.o.r.naments, Dad. You know. p.o.r.n. Little elves with big d.i.c.ks. Ho f.u.c.king ho."

Mike winced. He didn't like his daughter talking dirty. "Heather, honey," he said mildly.

Heather's voice rose to an angry screech. "What if my friends see that South Pole elf? They'll think I'm a freaking perv."

She's right, Josie thought. The tumescent elf would make the girl's life miserable at school. The boys would torment her and offer to show her a bigger pole. The girls would giggle and make cruel remarks. Josie felt sorry for Heather, even if she was obnoxious.

"The shop isn't really busy in the evenings," Mike said.

"Or the mornings. Or the afternoons." Heather's sarcasm could make the plastic angels blush.

"How about if I pick you up at five tomorrow night?" Mike said. "You could come by Josie's and see Amelia." He gave his most fatherly smile.

Heather rejected it. "That sucks out loud." She stuck out her lip like an Ubangi princess in an old National Geographic.

Josie suppressed a sigh. Heather and Amelia didn't get along. All they had in common was working moms and absent fathers. Mike desperately wanted the girls to be friends. He was like his big, clumsy Lab lumbering into a delicate situation and thumping around.

Too bad any friendship was hopeless. Heather and Amelia had hated each other from the moment they were introduced.

Amelia had spent one night at Heather's home. She'd complained so much that Josie had had to bribe her daughter with a new sweater to get her to go. Amelia had called her mother at six the next morning to come pick her up. Amelia never got up that early on a weekend. She even refused Doreen's homemade waffles for breakfast. She wanted to leave-immediately.

All the way home in the car, Amelia complained. "Heather is mean, Mom. She called me a sn.o.b. Just because I don't go to public school like she does. She made fun of the way I talked. She said I was a baby because I don't have a cell phone."

About half of Amelia's cla.s.s had their own phones. Amelia had been campaigning for one.

"And the dog next door barked all night. I couldn't sleep."

Josie refused to expose her daughter to more of Heather's snide remarks, even at Mike's suggestion. "Uh, I'll see if Amelia has plans," she said.

"She doesn't have plans," Heather said. "Who'd want to hang with a dork like her?"

Josie longed to slap that sneer off the kid's face, but she didn't believe in hitting children.

"That's enough," Mike said.

"She's lame, Daddy," Heather whined. "She's a baby. I'm five years older. I should be paid to babysit."

"I'll drive by the shop tomorrow night, if you want to go to Josie's house," Mike said.

Doreen poked her witchy face between her husband and daughter. "Right. Don't consult me. What do I know? I'm only her mother. Don't teach your daughter any responsibility, Mike. Let her grow up to be shiftless shanty Irish like your family."

Mike was shiftless? Josie resented the slur on Mike's ancestry. His family worked hard. His mother was a cleaning woman. His brothers were in the family plumbing business with Mike. Mike was on twenty-four-hour call at least twice a week for plumbing emergencies.

Not your child, not your fight, she reminded herself. But Josie hated her silence. In her mind it was cowardly. Josie believed if you didn't speak out against prejudice, then you agreed with it.

"I'd better go," Mike said. He threw down more than enough cash to cover their food. "I'll take the rest of my shiftless Irish money with me." He slammed out of the shop. The tinkling bell jarred Josie's nerves.

"Thank you for the cake," Josie said, and followed him outside.

Mike was sitting in his truck, taking deep, calming breaths. "I can't believe I got suckered into fatherhood by that woman," he said. "My daughter will grow up as nasty as her mother."

"She's just a teenager," Josie said, though she secretly agreed with him. "Mike, it would be good if our girls got along, but it's not going to work. Not at this age. Five years is nothing to adults, but it's an unbridgeable gulf at fourteen. Heather is embarra.s.sed to hang around with someone as young as Amelia. She wouldn't want her around even if they were sisters."

"It wouldn't hurt Heather to be nice," Mike said.

"Don't try to force this friendship," Josie said. "Heather is welcome to sit at my house and watch TV tomorrow night. I'll order pizza."

"Really?" Mike said. "I'm on standby tomorrow. I have to be by the phone for all those clogged toilets. I'd love to hang out at your house and eat pizza with you, but I know I'll get an emergency call. Are you sure you won't mind having her?"

"Of course not," Josie lied. "I feel sorry for her. If the kids at her school ever see those p.o.r.naments, Heather will never live it down."

"That's going to stop," Mike said, gritting his teeth. "My daughter isn't going to hustle p.o.r.n."

"Can we stop at Elsie's Elf House and get Amelia a chocolate snowman?" Josie asked. "She loves them."

"Uh, now is not a good time," Mike said. "If Doreen sees me going over there, I'm a dead man. She watches that parking lot like the military patrols the Iraqi border."

"She must hate what she sees," Josie said. "All those cars stopping at someone else's shop."

"Some people have the nerve to park in Doreen's lot," Mike said. "She runs out and screeches at them. They leave and never come back. That's why she has all those empty parking s.p.a.ces. Tell you what: Is there something else that Amelia likes besides the chocolate snowman?"

"Cotton candy ice cream from MaggieMoo's."

"Then let's go get her some," Mike said. "Does the ice cream really have cotton candy in it?"

"Yep. All that sugar makes my teeth ache," Josie said. "But Amelia loves it."

"Then she'll have it," Mike said. He bought Amelia four scoops of her favorite flavor.

When they got to Josie's home, Mike walked her to the door and kissed her. Josie felt a tingle that started in her suede boots. She gave a little sigh.

"I love that s.e.xy sound. It's what keeps me coming back." Mike kissed her again. "I love you."

Josie could see the night stars over his shoulder-and the dark cloud of Mrs. Mueller at her upstairs window. Josie's neighbor was peeking out her blinds.

"I've got to go," Josie said.

"Are you angry at me?" Mike said.

"No, we're putting on a show for my nosy neighbor," Josie said.

"Then let's give her something to really watch," Mike said, and kissed Josie until she was breathless.

Watch that, you lonely old bat, Josie thought. I bet Mr. Mueller never kissed you half so hard.

She pulled away reluctantly.

"I have to go inside. Amelia's ice cream will melt," Josie said.

"Are you sure?" Mike asked.

Josie was sure. If the ice cream didn't turn into a puddle, she would.

"Why don't you drop off the ice cream and come back to my place?" he asked.

"I can't tonight. But later in the week, Amelia can sleep upstairs at Mom's and I can stay with you."

Josie kissed Mike again and waved to Mrs. Mueller. The blinds snapped shut as Josie escaped inside, hair tousled and face pink. She ran smack into Amelia, hovering on the other side of the door.

"Looks like you've been having fun," her daughter said. Josie could hear her disapproval.

"Look what Mike got you," Josie said, holding out the bag of ice cream.

Amelia tore the lid off the container. "Cotton candy! My fave," she said.

"He'll have something a little less fave for you tomorrow night," Josie said.

"Oh, no. I am not spending any more time with Heather." Amelia made gagging motions.

"Look, Amelia, I know she's not your best friend," Josie began.

"Best friend! She's a loser face, Mom."

"Loser face" was Amelia's latest condemnation. Josie had no idea what it meant, but she wanted to head off criticism of Heather before she ended up agreeing with her child.

Josie rummaged in the hall closet among the old umbrellas and tote bags and pulled out a worn photo alb.u.m. "You can take these pictures of your father to school if you want," she said. "For your cla.s.s project."

"Don't need them now," Amelia said. "The teacher dropped the project. Too many blended families. The parents protested."

Josie felt cheered. She wasn't the only one with an unconventional family.

"Mom, are you sure Dad is dead?" Amelia asked. She was sc.r.a.ping the last ice cream out of the container.

"Positive," Josie said.

"You're not lying to me?"

"Why would I do that?" Josie asked.

"Because it's easier," Amelia said.

Chapter 4.

"I'm bored."

Only a teenager could put that much anguish into two words. You'd have thought Heather had been in solitary confinement for decades.

Mike's miserable daughter had been at Josie's house exactly fifteen minutes. She commandeered the TV remote, flipped through the cable channels without asking permission, sighed dramatically, and complained.

"Where'd you get this cheap cable?" Heather asked. "This TV is a friggin' antique. Who used to watch this piece of c.r.a.p, Looey the Fifteenth?"

"Louis the Fifteenth didn't have a TV, loser face," Amelia said.

"Thank you, Miss History Channel," Heather said.

Josie wanted to set Heather out on the porch like a surly cat. She wished Mike were here. He'd shown up with his daughter and two pepperoni pizzas, hoping to settle in for the evening. His cell phone rang before he could even sit down.

"Sorry," Mike had said. He slid the pizzas onto the coffee table and took the call in the kitchen. He came back into Josie's living room looking disappointed. "Sounds like a busted stack pipe in one of those big old houses on Utah Place in South St. Louis. This could be an all-nighter."

"My dad, Captain s.h.i.thead," Heather said. "Savior of toilets in distress."

Josie waited for Mike to reprimand his daughter. Instead he gave a sickly smile, grabbed a slice of pizza, and said, "Sorry, have to go." Josie got a greasy kiss on the cheek and he was out the door, leaving his daughter behind.

After insulting Josie's TV, Heather flopped on the couch and started texting her friends at school. Amelia stared at her in disbelief.

"What's the matter, Baby?" Heather said. "Mommy won't let you have a cell phone?"

"I don't want one," Amelia said. "I have a life."

"f.u.c.king liar," Heather said. "You don't have any friends to text."

"That's enough," Josie said. "We don't talk that way in this house."

"We don't talk that way in this house," Heather mimicked.

"Would you like to go back to your mother's Christmas store?" Josie said. "I'll be happy to drive you there."

"Good idea," Amelia said.

Heather stood up, pulled on her hoodie, and crammed a slice of pizza into her mouth. "I'm going for a walk," she announced.