The Christmas List: A Novel

It was nearly noon when Kier walked back down the stairs. Fred was polishing the banister with a dust rag. He looked up at him. “You sure you’re not a ghost?”

“Can’t prove it.”

Fred laughed. “Come back and haunt us again,” he said.

Kier walked outside. The air was crisp and fresh. He climbed into his car and drove home.

On the ride down the canyon, Kier mulled over what he’d read. “Heartless,” “Monster,” “Grinch,” “Bergermeister”? His memory had been betrayed by his “friends” as well as his enemies. Only one person seemed to care about him and it was the woman he’d betrayed. He was baffled. After all he had done to Sara, she had stood up for him. Why?

He suddenly felt very alone. At least he had Traci. He wondered how she was handling the news. Probably a wreck, he thought.

The roads home were clear and Kier arrived in the valley in less than a half hour. He stopped at a nearby stripmall and picked up a new phone then drove home. He pulled into the driveway, opened the garage door, and parked inside, entering from the garage. He stopped at the edge of the living room. It took him a moment to comprehend what he saw. The room was filled with dozens of shopping bags. Nordstrom, Anthropologie, Lolabella, bebe, White House Black Market; an impressive array. He pulled from one of the bags a black, tufted Gucci bag with the price tag still attached: $3,995.

I guess she decided to cash in while the card was still good. He wondered why she brought everything to his place instead of her own until it occurred to him that she was just being efficient; his place was closer to the malls. He went to the kitchen and called Lincoln.

“How’s it going, dead man?” Lincoln said.

“Have you contacted the newspaper yet?”

“No. I had to get Carol to go into the office. But we’re just about to serve them.”

“Belay that.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to contact them yet.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want anyone to know that I’m alive.”

“What have you got up your sleeve, Kier?”

“This is an opportunity, Lincoln. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Did you see what Brey wrote on the Tribune site?”

“Yeah, I saw that. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. Now I know the truth. For the first time in my life I can see what people really think of me. This is a platinum opportunity.”

“Brilliant.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“No plans.”

“Let’s get a drink at Porcupine Grill. Say, seven?”

“Seven it is.”

“See you then.” Kier hung up and went back to the front room. He sat down in a wide crushed-velvet chair and lifted his feet up on the ottoman staring at the door while he considered his next move. First Brey, now Traci. He was wondering the best way to handle the two of them when he heard a car pull into the driveway. A moment later came the sound of keys in the deadbolt. The door opened a few inches, then swung open as Traci walked inside, pushing the door open with her rear. Her back was toward him and her arms were threaded through the handles of more shopping bags. She was humming cheerfully. Kier waited for her to set down her bags before he spoke.

“Hi.”

She jumped at the sound of his voice and swung around.

“I’d ask where you’ve been, but I don’t need to, do I?”

“James.” She held a hand to her chest. “You’re . . . what are you doing here?”

“Where should I be?”

“But the paper said . . .”

“I know. I read it.” Kier looked over the mountain of shopping bags. “I’m sorry you were so broken up by the news. You must have been devastated.”

For a moment she just looked at him, speechless, then recovered. “You know shopping is how I cope with tragedy. It’s therapy.”

“Looks like group therapy. You must feel like a million bucks. Or is that just how much you spent?”

Her expression relaxed. “Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re okay. What would I have done without you?” She reached out her arms.

“Let’s find out. Take your things and go.”

“James,” she purred, smiling seductively. “C’mon Jimmy.”

“And leave the credit card.”

Traci pouted. “This isn’t fun. Let’s celebrate you being alive.”

“You’ve already celebrated my death.”

When it was clear he wasn’t relenting, her expression changed from seductive to disdainful. She stopped to gather her bags, and lugged the first batch to the door. “Would you give me a hand?”

“No.”

“Pig.”

It took her six trips to carry everything out to her car. On her last trip he said to her, “The credit card.”

She pulled out her wallet, extracted the card and threw it at him. “There.” It landed on the floor a few feet from him. “It’s true what they say about you. All you care about is money.”

He nodded. “Apparently likes do attract.”