Trudy borrowed a cell phone and called Courtney to tell her she was all right. Then she faced Nolan’s boss, who ditched the hat with the green and red bobbles and became tough, efficient, thorough, and polite, none of which made Trudy feel better. She answered everything the woman asked, and when she was finally released, it was well after midnight. She took her purse and the battered bag with the Twinkletoes and rode home through the snow in the back of a black car, too tired and too defeated to argue anymore.
I couldn’t do it alone, she thought. I really needed that bastard’s help; nobody could have done it alone. But she still felt like a failure. If only she hadn’t trusted him, hadn’t trusted Reese, hadn’t gotten in that cab in the first place, hadn’t ever talked to Nolan at all, they’d never have known she’d found the MacGuffin and Leroy would have it now. Her throat swelled and she stared at the back of the driver’s head and willed herself not to cry. Not in front of the NSA, anyway.
She tiptoed into the house, but Courtney called out from the dimly lit living room. Trudy went in and found her on the couch, glass in hand, her feet propped up on the coffee table that held a bowl of white icing, a lopsided gingerbread house, and a stack of gingerbread men with a knife stuck through them. She was staring into the gas fire, and the glow reflected off the tinsel on the tree while Christmas music played low and slow in the background.
“Do you have it?” Courtney said, her voice dull.
“No.” Trudy went around the mess on the coffee table and sat down beside her, dropping her bags on the floor. “The Feds took it from me. For national security reasons. Nice gingerbread house.”
“It’s crooked,” Courtney said, clearly not caring. “The Feds?”
“Turns out Nolan works for the NSA. I know. Unbelievable.”
“I believe it.” Courtney sat unmoving, her eyes on the fire. “That’s just my luck. Even the government is out to get me.”
“Two governments. Reese the Surfer turned out to be a double agent for the Chinese.” Trudy leaned forward, pulled the knife out of the gingerbread, and scooped up a glop of white icing.
“Well, at least you’re meeting men.” Courtney picked up her glass to drink and then made a face when she realized it was empty. “So why did they want the Mac?”
“It had the codes to the Chinese spy network on the instruction sheet and then something else was on this thumb drive disguised as a silencer for the gun.” Trudy smeared the icing on the roof. The white mass hung there for a moment and then began to slump its way to the edge. Not enough powdered sugar. The icing plopped off onto the cardboard base, looking like a snowbank.
“Chinese spy codes?” Courtney said.
“I wouldn’t have believed it, except that I saw the thumb drive. That and there were so many guys in bad black suits there at the end.” She glopped more icing on the other side of the roof. It slumped and became a snowbank, too. Definitely too thin. “Where’s the sugar, Court?”
Courtney gestured to the kitchen with her glass.
The kitchen looked like a war zone, bodies of mutilated gingerbread men everywhere, red and green gumdrops stuck to the island like body parts, and a drip of icing pooled on the floor like thick white blood.
“Christmas didn’t used to be this violent,” Trudy called back to Courtney, and then picked up the powdered-sugar box, the half-filled bag of gumdrops, and some toothpicks. Toothpicks were good. She could probably have done more damage in the warehouse if she’d had toothpicks. She could have stuck several of them into Reese.
And more into Nolan. Nolan, she thought, and blinked back tears. Damn.
She went back to the living room. Courtney hadn’t moved.
Trudy dumped her armload on the coffee table and sat down beside Courtney. “Forget about rotten men. There was one good thing that happened tonight. I got you a present.”
Courtney turned her head a millimeter. “Does it have gin in it?”
“No, but you want it anyway.” Trudy pulled the Twinkletoes box out of her last shopping bag and handed it to Courtney, who stared at it for a moment, her eyes unfocused.
Then she sat up slowly, her forehead smoothing out, her lips parting. “Where—”
“They’re making them again. Like a reissue. Second chance. Do-over.”
“Oh, please,” Courtney said, but she said it while she was ripping the cellophane off the package. She pried open the top and pulled out the cardboard shell with the Twinkletoes doll and her manicure set wired to it. “These aren’t the same colors of polish as the old one.”
“I’m sorry—”
“These are better.” Courtney began to unwire the doll. “She has really big feet.”
“Well, she needs really big toenails if little kids are going to paint them.” Trudy watched her for a minute and then went back to the gingerbread house as Courtney set up her play station. One thing had gone right that evening, she thought as she beat sugar into the thickening icing. Now if she could get the icing and the gumdrop shingles to stay on the iced roof, that would be two. It was tomorrow morning that was going to be bad.
Poor Leroy.
Damn it.
She began to spackle the roof with the thicker icing, thinking vicious thoughts about government agents who took toys from little kids on Christmas. She picked up a red gumdrop and shoved it into the icing with more force than necessary and almost cracked the roof.
Easy, she told herself and looked back at Courtney, who was studying the Twinkletoes doll with an odd expression on her face.
Well, she was drunk.
Trudy shoved another gumdrop into the icing and dared it to fall off. It didn’t.
At least Leroy would have a gingerbread house in the morning. That might help calm things down. She filled in rows of red gumdrop shingles, trying to think of things to say to him.
“Sorry about your Mac, Leroy, but Santa sent you this nice toy cow instead.”
No, they’d shot the cow. Jesus.
“Santa got delayed over Pittsburgh but he’s going to put your Mac on backorder.”
No, Santa was not a mail-order house.
“Maybe it fell off the sleigh.”
Trudy shoved another gumdrop in. Bastards.
Not that Leroy would throw a fit. He wasn’t a fit-throwing kind of kid. But he’d be disappointed; that stillness would be on his face, like the stillness that had been there when his father left.
Men, she thought, and shoved in another gumdrop, but that wasn’t fair, she knew it wasn’t fair. Nolan had risked his life for her at the end. Maybe even before the end, maybe that was why he’d gotten in the cab, because he cared. Trudy sat up a little. “You know, I think he came along in the cab to save me.”
Courtney had the doll out now and her shoes off. “Who?”
“Nolan.” Trudy watched Courtney pry open the bottle of silver nail polish, awake and alert, if still a little unsteady from the booze. “He took the Mac away from me at the end after he’d sworn to me he wouldn’t, but when he got in the cab at the toy store, he thought he already had the codes. He didn’t need me anymore. Maybe he got in to protect me from Reese.” She put the last gumdrop on the roof gently. Maybe Nolan cared about her, at least as much as he cared about the Mac.
She looked closer at the roof. The gumdrops seemed to be sliding down.
Beside her, Courtney painted the first Twinkle toe, her face concentrating on the job. Court didn’t look particularly happy, but she did look alert. That was something. Trudy picked up a green gumdrop and flattened it and then threaded it onto a toothpick, the first set of branches for a gumdrop tree.
Okay, so Nolan worked for the NSA. Well, good for him, protecting his country. And of course he had to lie to her about his name, he was undercover.
And if he’d gotten into that cab without needing to, if he’d gotten in with her to save her, then maybe he was a good guy. She flattened another gumdrop onto the toothpick and then paid attention for the first time to the music in the background, a slow growly voice singing, “Hurry down the chimney tonight.”
She looked at Courtney, jolted out of her fairy tale. “Is that ‘Santa Baby’?”
Courtney nodded as she finished Twinkle’s last toe. “Yeah. I couldn’t get it out of my head after you talked about it.”
Trudy listened to the slow, jazzy version on Court’s stereo. “That is not Madonna.”
“Etta James,” Courtney said. “The only good thing I know about Pres is his taste in music. And his kid.” She screwed the top back on the polish and looked at the doll, her pretty face puzzled.
“What’s wrong?”
“This is a dumb toy.” Courtney turned Twinkle around so Trudy could see her vapid plastic face.
Trudy sighed and stuck the last green gumdrop on the top of the toothpick. “I always thought so, but then I wasn’t the manicure type. You probably would have loved it when you were six.” Timing is everything. If Nolan already knew all he needed to about the codes when he got in my cab—
“No, it would have been a huge letdown then, too.” Courtney set the doll on the table, where its pink party dress flopped into the icing. “I’m sure there’s a lesson in this, but I’ll be damned if I know what it is.”
“I know what you mean.” Trudy stuck her gumdrop tree into the gingerbread beside the door. The red gumdrop shingles had moved another millimeter. “I’d love to find a meaning for what happened tonight besides ‘Don’t trust men,’ but I don’t think there is one.” Except maybe Nolan came with me to keep me safe.
“You don’t know that yet.” Courtney picked up the manicure set and unzipped it. “The doll was a letdown, but this could be a really great manicure set. You have to believe.”
“Do you really think so?” Trudy said, trying not to sound hopeful.
“No. But I think that’s what I’m supposed to say.” Courtney opened the pink plastic manicure set. “And this is not a great manicure set.”
“Oh, sorry,” Trudy said. “I used the nail file to stab somebody, so it’s gone.”
“No, it’s in here.” Courtney held the case so she could see in. “It looks like it’s in pretty good shape. No blood.”
Trudy straightened. “It shouldn’t be in there at all. The last time I saw it, it was stuck in Reese.”
“Must have been a different box.” Courtney took the file out. “This box was kind of mushed in the back. Did you—”
Trudy took the box and turned it over. The bottom corner was smashed, as if somebody had driven it into a counter, and over the creases was marked a tiny black X.
Oh no, she thought as her hope deflated. This was why Reese had been in the toy store; he’d been picking up this year’s codes. And that was why Nolan had gotten in the cab: he hadn’t been trying to save her, he’d been following Reese and the Twinkletoes. More Chinese codes, not her. You’re so dumb, she told herself. He betrays you and you still want to believe.
“What?” Courtney said.
“Nolan picked up the wrong Twinkletoes box in the warehouse. He got Reese’s instead of mine.” Trudy pulled out the instruction sheet. “He wanted this.” She stared at the flimsy paper with its bad illustration of Twinkle and its warning not to drink the nail polish in both Chinese and English. “I bet this is this year’s codes.” She looked over at Courtney holding the neon pink nail file. “Let me see that, please.”
Courtney handed over the file, its thick pink plastic handle first. Trudy grabbed the file end and yanked on the handle until it came apart.
“What are you doing?’
“It’s a thumb drive,” Trudy said when she was sure it was. She showed the end to Courtney. “More espionage stuff. Nolan saw Reese leave the store with a Twinkle, but I had one, too. He got the two bags mixed up in the warehouse and gave me the one with the codes by mistake.”
“What does that mean?” Courtney said.
Trudy felt like throwing up. “It means that he’s going to show up here and take your Twinkletoes away.”
Courtney sat back. “That’s okay. It’s lousy nail polish, too.”
“Another dream shattered,” Trudy said, trying to make it sound like a joke.
“Twinkle or Nolan?”
“Both.” Trudy packed up the box, feeling sick and stupid.
“Gin?” Courtney picked up her glass.
Trudy shook her head. “You know how dumb I am? I’m so dumb, I believed in that bastard even though I knew he’d lied to me. I even believed he got in that cab to save me. That’s how much I wanted to believe.”
“He did save you at the end.”
“To get the doll,” Trudy said, miserable. “And now I’m alone and Leroy is not getting a MacGuffin. So how dumb am I?”
“You’re not dumb.”
Trudy sank back into the couch as Etta began to sing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” “Because you know what? I still want to see him. He took my MacGuffin and I still want to see him. I want to kill him, but I want to see him.”
Courtney nodded in sympathy. “I know. I hate Pres but I’d take him back. That’s so sad.”
“Prescott will come back,” Trudy said tiredly. “When the novelty wears off, he’ll want his nice home and his cute kid and his pretty wife again.” And I hope you slam the door in his face because that’s what I’m going to do when Nolan comes after this doll.
Courtney shook her head. “Forget Pres. Tell me about Nolan. Did he say, ‘I’ll call you’? What was the last thing he said?”
“He said, ‘I’m really sorry’,” Trudy said, remembering the miserable look on his face at the end. That had been something: he knew he’d screwed her over.
“And what did you say?”
“I think it was, ‘Rot and die.’”
“You think you might have been overreacting there?”
“No.” Trudy sat up again and stuck another red gumdrop on the roof of the gingerbread house. “I think I just told him the truth. Which was the best thing I could have done. I don’t care if he thinks I’m nuts or irrational or anything else, I told him the truth. He did the worst possible thing he could do to me, so don’t bother showing up with flowers, making cute apologies and bad jokes. And yes, I know it’s not all about him. I know he’s cashing Daddy’s emotional checks, but right now? It’s about him.”
“He sounded like a nice guy when you were dating him.”
“He is. He’s great. Hell, Dad’s a nice guy most of the time. That’s why we believed in him for so long. He loved us, he was a good guy, how could he keep forgetting us like that? Jesus, Courtney, I could have ended up in a relationship like that. ‘Nolan’s a nice guy, he loves me, why am I bleeding from the ears all the time?’”
Courtney nodded. “Yeah. I know. It was almost a relief when Pres left because I could finally stop aching with disappointment.” She sighed. “Except there’s Leroy. Now I ache for Leroy. Especially tomorrow morning.”
“We did it to him, you know.” Trudy blinked back tears. “We should have said, ‘Leroy, there is no Santa, and there’s not going to be a Mac Two under the tree on Christmas Day, although we will do whatever we have to do to get you one as soon as possible because we love you and always will.’ We should have told him the truth. Hell, Evil Nemesis Brandon told him the truth. Pretty damn bad when the only person you can trust is your Evil Nemesis.” You and me, Leroy.
“I hate the truth. Except this part.” Courtney gestured to the Twinkletoes box. “The part where you almost got yourself killed trying to get him that MacGuffin. The part where you brought me a Twinkletoes to make up for twenty years ago. The part where you’re fixing my gingerbread house. The part where we’ll take care of Leroy together tomorrow. I like that part of the truth.”
Trudy dropped the gumdrops and sat back next to her sister, and Courtney snuggled closer and put her head on Trudy’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” Trudy said, patting her arm. “I like the part where you waited up for me. And did the boring part of the gingerbread house. And didn’t tell me I’m an idiot for still wanting a lying bastard.”
“So it’s not so bad,” Courtney said as the first gumdrop slid off the roof of the gingerbread house.
They watched for a minute while another slowly followed the first one.
Trudy thought about putting them back again and decided to let them slide. “What are we going to tell Leroy tomorrow?”
“How about, ‘Maybe it fell off the sleigh’?” Courtney said.
Trudy sighed. “Well, it beats, ‘Aunt Trudy had a Mac for you, but the United States government lied to her and took it away.’”
“Yeah,” Courtney said. “He’s mature for his age, but we’d never be able to explain that one. I’m still not sure I get it.”
“That’s okay.” Trudy straightened. “I get it. Let’s go to bed.”
She stood up and pulled Courtney to her feet and steered her in the direction of the stairs, and when her sister was gone, she walked around shutting off lights and turning off the fire, stopping when she came to the stereo where the CD had changed. Judy Garland was singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” the carol that most made Trudy want to kill herself every holiday. She stood in the darkness and listened to Judy break her heart and let the tears drip as she thought of Leroy in the morning and of Nolan that night. I really did believe in you, she thought. For about five minutes, I believed, and it felt really good.
Then Judy finished her song and Trudy turned the stereo off and went to bed.
* * *
The next morning, Trudy curled up in an armchair in her flannel robe and mainlined coffee while Leroy opened his presents. When he was done, he turned and looked at them, standing straight in his Lilo and Stitch footie PJs, and said, “’Guffin?”
Courtney swallowed. “It wasn’t in there? Gee, baby, maybe it fell off the sleigh.”
Leroy looked at her with the five-year-old version of, How dumb do you think I am?
Trudy put her coffee cup down and took a deep breath. “Leroy, here’s the thing. There really isn’t a—”
The doorbell rang, and she stopped, grateful for any interruption. “I’ll get it.” She went to the front door and looked through the square windows at the top, through the gold wreath Courtney had hung on the outside.
Nolan was standing there, looking like three kinds of hell.
Good, she thought, you’re as miserable as I am, and opened the door. “Oh, look, it’s a Christmas miracle.”
He was holding two Christmas gift bags, slumping with exhaustion as the snow started to settle on his thick, dark hair. “Merry Christmas, Trudy.”
“Ho ho ho,” Trudy said. “I was just about to explain to my five-year-old nephew that there is no Santa. Can you come back at another time? Never would be good for me.”
He held out one of the bags. “Chill on the Santa. I got you covered.”
“Uh huh,” Trudy said.
“Go ahead. Look.”
She took the bag and looked inside at the top of a camo-colored box that said, New! Now with Toxic Waste! “You are kidding me.” She pulled out the box and saw the Mac Two, its pudgy little face uglier than ever now that its lips were pursed to spit goop. “How—”
“Top-secret,” Nolan said, trying an exhausted smile on her. “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
“That’s lame.” She put the Mac Two back in the bag, hope beginning to rise that maybe he wasn’t a rat until she remembered that what he’d really come for was the Twinkletoes. She handed the bag back to him. “You’re too late. And your patter is falling off.”
“It’s six A.M., I’ve had no sleep, and I’m freezing.” Nolan held the bag out to her again. “Everything I have is falling off. Will you take this, please?” Then he looked past her, toward the floor, and said, “Hi.”
Trudy turned to see Leroy, blinking up at them, looking absurdly small in his footie pajamas.
“What’s that?” Leroy said, pointing to the Christmas bag.
“I found it out on the front lawn,” Nolan said. “I think it fell off the sleigh.” He handed it to Leroy.
Leroy looked into the top of it and his face lit up. “Mom!” he yelled. “You were right!” He took off for the living room and then stopped and came back. “Thank you very much for finding my ‘Guffin,” he said to Nolan, and then took off for the living room again, so happy that Trudy felt her throat close.
“Cute kid,” Nolan said, and looked back at Trudy.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling absurdly relieved. Don’t get suckered by this guy again. “Well, I’d invite you in, but I’m still mad at you. So thanks. Merry Christmas. Have a good life. Somewhere else.” She shut the door in his face.
“If you don’t sleep with him, I will,” Courtney said from behind her. “He got my kid a MacGuffin. He forgot the extra toxic waste, but what the hell.”
“He’s not leaving,” Trudy said as the doorbell rang again. “Go get your Twinkletoes, he’s going to ask for it next.” She opened the door.
“Forgot this.” Nolan handed her three packages of toxic waste.
“How do you feel about dating women with children?” Courtney said.
“Get the Twinkletoes,” Trudy said, and Courtney went back to the living room.
Nolan leaned in the doorway, looking too tired to stand. “Look, I know you’re mad, and I don’t blame you, but I want to see you again. We got off to a bad start because we were lying to each other—”
“I never lied to you,” Trudy said, outraged.
“You like faculty cocktail parties? And you really wanted to see that foreign film I took you to?”
“I was trying to help you,” Trudy said. “I was trying to fit into your world.”
“You were boring as hell,” Nolan said.
“Hey!”
“But not last night. Last night you were somebody I want to see again. Without the violence.”
Trudy leaned in the other side of the doorway, watching the snow swirl behind him. “You know, if I didn’t know what I do know, I’d be pretty happy with that speech. But I know what you came for. Tell me the truth and you can have it. And then you can go away forever.”
“If I’m going away forever, I’m not getting what I want,” Nolan said.
“Funny,” Trudy said. “Okay, play your stupid game. Courtney’s getting the doll.”
“What doll?” Nolan said.
“The one with the smashed-in corner and the X. Like the MacGuffin. Only this year it’s the Twinkletoe—” She stopped as Nolan’s face changed from exhausted to alert.
“Let me see it,” he said, and stepped inside, pushing her in front of him and closing the door behind him as Courtney came into the hall with the box.
“Hi. I’m Courtney, Trudy’s sister.” Courtney handed him the Twinkletoes.
“Nice to meet you, Courtney.” Nolan took the box.
“The instructions are in there,” Trudy said, a little uncertain now. “The USB key is in the nail file this time.”
“You are kidding me.” Nolan opened the box and took out the manicure set. Then he tucked the box under one arm, took out the nail file, and yanked the handle off. “You’re not kidding me,” he said, looking at the end of the USB key. “I will be damned.” He put the file back in the case and the case back in the box. “I have to make a call. You stay here.” He went back out onto the porch, shutting the door behind him.
“Thanks, I will,” Trudy said to the door.
He hadn’t known about the Twinkletoes.
Courtney went up on tiptoe to see out the little windows. “He’s on his cell phone.”
“Yeah?” Trudy said.
He really hadn’t known about the Twinkletoes.
Courtney sank back on her heels. “He didn’t know about the Twinkletoes, Tru. I think he’s a good one. Plus he’s hot.”
“Maybe,” Trudy said, and then the doorbell rang again.
“I’ll just go see what my son is doing with his new tac nuke,” Courtney said, and went back into the living room.
Trudy took a deep breath and opened the door.
“The thanks of a grateful nation are yours,” Nolan said, meeting her eyes and taking her breath away. “Now about us.”
“Us?” Trudy said, her voice cracking.
“Yeah, us. I know I really screwed you over last night.”
“Well, national security and all,” Trudy said.
He really hadn’t known about the codes in the Twinkletoes.
“But I keep my promises,” Nolan said, his eyes steady on hers.
“Good for you,” Trudy said.
He hadn’t known.
“I said you’d have this on Christmas morning.” Nolan held out the other bag. “I know it’s a mess, but…”
Trudy took the bag and looked inside. “What the…” She pulled out the Mac One. The box was gone, and the doll was battered and mangled, but it was her Mac. She squeezed it, and it made a crackly sound. “What did you do to it?”
“They had to take a code machine out of it,” Nolan said. “So I got some paper from the paper shredder and restuffed it.”
Trudy pulled up the Mac’s jacket to see a broad band of duct tape wound around its belly. “Duct tape.”
“I don’t sew,” Nolan said. “Besides, duct tape is better. It’s a guy thing.”
Trudy smoothed the little camo shirt back down and tried to rub the smudge of dirt off the Mac’s nose. He looked nicer now, she thought, all ripped up and eviscerated and dirty. More vulnerable. Plus one of his eyebrows had come off, so now he just looked half-mad. Kind of like me.
“Reese threw the box away in the warehouse,” Nolan went on. “I looked but couldn’t find it. The silencer was the thumb drive, so that has to stay with NSA. They think the ammo belt may have something in it, too. And his boots—”
“How did you ever talk them into letting you take the doll?” Trudy said, amazed.
“I didn’t give them much choice,” Nolan said. “My future was riding on it.”
Trudy blinked up at him.
“You know. Assuming you’re ever going to talk to me again.”
“You got in the cab thinking you already had the codes, didn’t you?” Trudy said. “Did the NSA tell you to do that?”
“No, they told me to stay put since they had the cab under control.”
“Why’d you get in?”
Nolan shrugged. “I wasn’t that sure they had it under control.”
“You came along to protect me,” Trudy said.
“Yeah,” Nolan said. “But don’t go giving me any medals because that turned out great for me. We ended up with everything we needed because I got in that cab. Following you around made me look like a genius to my boss.” He shook his head. “And now we have this year’s codes. You’re good for me, Gertrude.”
Trudy wrapped her arms around the Mac, feeling the crunch of its duct tape against her stomach. “You turned out pretty good for me, too, Nolan.”
He nodded and met her eyes for a long moment.
Kiss me, she thought.
Then he said, “I have to go.”
“Of course,” Trudy said, deflating.
“But I would like to come back,” he said, as if he were choosing his words very carefully. “Can I have you, uh”—he shook his head—“see you later tonight?”
Under the Christmas tree with all the lights on. “Yes,” Trudy said primly. “That would be very nice.” Kiss me.
“Okay then.” Nolan looked at a loss for words. “About seven?”
“Seven is good,” Trudy said. Kiss me.
“I’ll see you at seven then,” Nolan said. “I really will, I promise.”
“I believe you,” Trudy said. “Thank you for the MacGuffin.” Kiss me, you idiot.
“Uh, you’re welcome. Thank you for the Chinese spy codes.” He turned to go.
“Wait,” Trudy said, and when he turned back, she grabbed the lapel of his coat and pulled him down to her and kissed him good, and he dropped the Twinkletoes and pulled her close, squashing the Mac One between them.
“I’m crazy about you,” he whispered when he broke the kiss.
“I’m crazy about you, too,” she said, dizzy with happiness. “Hurry back.”
“I will,” he said fervently, and then he was gone, off into the snow, but he’d be back. He’d promised, and she believed him.
She closed the door and went back into the living room just in time to see Leroy squeeze the Mac Two so that green toxic waste shot across the room as Madonna sang “Santa Baby” on the radio and Courtney dipped a broken gingerbread arm into her gin.
“I love Christmas,” Trudy said, and went to join her family.