Austin was bundled up against the cold and cradling a book against his chest.
“Is that a book you’re reading for school?” Kerry asked, after greeting the pair.
He grinned and shook his head. “Nope. Dad bought it for me at the bookstore. See?”
He thrust the book into her hands. “It’s all about dragons.”
The picture book was called Dragons Love Tacos, and Kerry smiled too, as she leafed through the pages with their whimsical illustrations and story of a taco-loving dragon who accidentally ingests an especially fiery salsa.
“Dragons, huh?” she said, handing the book back.
“He’s suddenly obsessed with them. Been talking nonstop about dragons all morning,” Patrick said. “He made me look up all the lyrics to ‘Puff the Magic Dragon.’”
Kerry blushed.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I guess that’s gonna be our song now, huh?”
Austin was hopping up and down with barely contained excitement. “Kerry, do you think we could put some dragons in our story? That’s why I love this book. I mean, it’s kind of a baby book for a kid like me, who can read, but the dragon pictures are really cool.”
“Definitely,” Kerry replied, opening the book again to study the illustrations.
“Yeah. Our dragons could guard the gate to the forest,” Austin said. “I bet that would scare off the bad guys.”
She nodded and pulled her sketchbook out, turning to a fresh page. She quickly inked a dragon, giving it bat wings, a scaly body, spikes along its spine, a forked tail, feet that ended in fearsome claws, and an imposing head with powerful jaws and hooded eyes.
“Damn!” Patrick took a half step backward. “That dragon would definitely scare me if I were a bad guy.”
Austin studied her drawing and tapped the dragon with his finger. “Our dragon is friendly when he wants to be, right, Kerry?”
“Of course,” Kerry said. “But can we have one of the dragons be a girl?”
“I guess that would be okay,” Austin said.
“Listen, I happen to know several girls who are dragons, especially in the morning,” Patrick said.
“You mean, like Mom?”
“Only before she’s had her coffee,” Patrick said. “And you can never tell her I said that.”
Kerry tapped the end of the pen on the paper for a moment, while she tried to imagine just what a girl dragon would look like. Hair bow? Pink sneakers? A bra? She gazed around at the street, hoping for some sort of inspiration.
Instead, she saw Heinz, slowly making his way across the street in her direction.
Queenie saw him too, and bounded out to meet the old man, tail wagging. She pushed her snout up against the pocket of his thick woolen coat.
“Oh, hello,” Heinz said, his chuckle becoming a wheezy cough as he scratched the dog’s ears and held out the treat he knew she was seeking.
“Are you all right?” Kerry inquired. Her friend’s face was unusually pale, and as he leaned on his cane he seemed unsteady on his feet.
“I’m fine,” Heinz said. “This very cold air, sometimes, it doesn’t agree with me.”
Kerry jumped to her feet. “Please sit. Can I get you some coffee, or some tea?”
“Nothing at all,” he said, waving away her concern. He pointed down at the sketchbook. “What’s this ferocious creature I’m seeing?”
“It’s a dragon,” Austin said. “To help guard the magical forest from the bad guys.”
“Ohhhh,” Heinz said, nodding slowly. “Yes, I think a dragon would be a very effective deterrent to bad guys.”
“There should be two dragons, though,” Austin said. “Kerry says one should be a girl.”
“I agree.”
“The problem is, I don’t exactly know what a female dragon might look like,” Kerry admitted.
“Perhaps I could try?” Heinz asked.
Kerry stood up. “Be my guest. I’m going to go get us something hot to drink. Which is it? Coffee, or tea?”
He sank down onto the chair. “Well, tea if you insist. Maybe with a drizzle of honey, if it’s not too much bother.”
* * *
“Kerry, look!” Austin called out to her as she returned to her post. She carefully placed the foam cups on the edge of the worktable, along with some chocolate-dipped biscotti.
Heinz had retrieved her colored pencils from her box of art supplies and had, in the space of ten short minutes, created a distinctively feminine-looking dragon, with long, fluttery eyelashes, and pink-painted claws. She looked fearsome, and yet adorable, if that was possible.
“Oh, Heinz, she’s perfect,” Kerry declared.
Heinz’s chuckle turned into a spasm of coughing. His face reddened, and his chest heaved with the effort of breathing.
“Hey,” Patrick said, alarmed. “Are you all right?”
“One moment,” Heinz gasped, putting his hand to his chest. A minute later, his color returned to normal.
“I’m all right,” he announced. “Just a silly cookie crumb went down the wrong way.”
He managed to stand and reach for his cane. “I really must be going.”
“Let us walk you home,” Patrick said. “You seem pretty winded.”
“No, no,” Heinz said. “That’s kind of you, but I’m fine. Just old and foolish to eat sweets my doctor forbids me to have. I have errands and appointments.”
“Please,” Kerry said. “Let Patrick walk with you. You really don’t seem well.”
The old man’s smile vanished. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” He nodded at Austin, patted Queenie’s head, and slowly began hobbling away.
chapter 35
Over the next few days, Kerry felt herself settling into the season. It snowed again, just enough to glaze the Christmas trees and the grass and shrubs in the pocket park with a thin layer of frost, and the sky was blue and cloudless. She had her own holiday playlist blaring and mulled cider heating up in a borrowed coffee urn, and she’d lit the fire in the oil barrel. She’d even donned a festive red-and-green felt elf’s hat with tiny silver bells that jingled every time she moved her head.
Mariah Carey was just starting to belt “All I Want for Christmas Is You” when the trailer door flew open and Murphy stepped out with a murderous look in his eyes.
“What the actual hell?” he bellowed, glowering at his sister. “What’s that racket?”
“It’s called Christmas music,” Kerry said calmly. “It gets people in a shopping mood.”
“It gets me in a shitty mood,” he said. His hair was wild and unkempt, and it looked as though he’d slept in his clothes. He lifted his head and sniffed. “And what’s that smell?”
“If you’re referring to the delicious aroma of fall spices like cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves, that’s probably the mulled cider I’m planning on serving our customers today.” She pointed at the urn, which she’d plugged into the extension cord running from Lombardi’s.
“But that other rank smell? I’d say that’s a disgusting elixir of unwashed socks and mountain man musk. And as we used to say when we were kids, the smeller is the feller.”
He retreated back into the trailer, but a few moments later emerged with his shaving kit in one hand and a laundry bag slung over his shoulder, walking past her without a word.
* * *