“A gumdrop fell into my drink. Wait a minute.”
Trudy listened for a moment.
“You know, they’re not half bad in gin.”
“Court, put the gin away and go lie down. I’ll be home as soon as we get done at this warehouse, and then we’ll finish the gingerbread house together.”
“No more faculty parties, either,” Nolan said.
Reese leaned forward, smushing Trudy between them. “She doesn’t want to go out with you, okay?”
“That warehouse sounds dangerous,” Courtney said. “Get the cab number and the cabbie’s name.”
Nolan shook his head at Reese. “We don’t know that she doesn’t want to go out with me. She never really got to know me.”
“And whose fault is that?” Trudy said, turning on him. “Three dates and then you don’t call, you don’t write. But hey, it’s not the end of the world.” And you never kissed me, either. Han Solo would have kissed me.
“Trudy?” Courtney said.
“In a minute,” Trudy said to her.
“I know, I know, that was bad of me; I’m really sorry,” Nolan was saying. “But you didn’t seem like you were having a good time.”
“A good time? I was on my best behavior, you jerk. What else did you need? Cries of delight at the faculty party? Moans of appreciation for the movie popcorn? Which, I might point out, I ate alone. Did you think—” She stopped, realizing that arguing made it sound like she cared. “Never mind. I’m sure you had a good reason for disappearing out of my life without a reason. Forget it.”
“Forget what?” Courtney said. “The name of the cabbie? You never gave it to me.”
Trudy leaned over to look at the cab license for her, and Reese tightened his arm across her shoulders. “Alexander Kuroff,” she said into the phone as she straightened.
“Write it down,” Courtney said.
“I don’t have any paper,” Trudy said, and Nolan rummaged in her shopping bags and pulled out the Christmas paper she’d bought.
Trudy tore the cellophane off the corner of it and said, “No pen.”
Both men offered her pens, Reese a beat behind Nolan. Trudy took Reese’s and wrote the cabbie’s name on the white space around the red printed words on the paper.
“And the cab number.”
“Court—”
“Read it to me so I can write it down, too.”
Trudy read it off. “I don’t see what good my writing it down is going to do. If I die, the wrapping paper goes with me.”
“You’re not going to die,” Nolan said. “I’m here.”
“Oh, give it a rest,” Reese said.
“What cab company?” Courtney said.
“Yellow Checker,” Trudy said. “And I’m stopping this conversation now.”
“Call me every hour,” Courtney said. “If you don’t call me, I’ll call you. Every hour until you come home with the MacGuffin.”
“What are you going to do if I don’t call and I don’t answer?”
“Call nine-one-one. But you’re going, right?”
“I’m on my way,” Trudy said, sitting back.
“Every hour,” Courtney said.
“Every hour.”
“I’ll watch out for her,” Nolan said, close to the phone.
“Who’s that?” Courtney said on the phone.
“Nolan again,” Trudy said. “He wants a MacGuffin, too.”
“Well, at least he’s the devil we know.”
“We don’t know him that well.”
“Hey,” Nolan said. “Your dad can vouch for me. We’ve been in the same department for two years.”
“That is not a recommendation.”
“What?” Courtney said.
“Dad can vouch for him.”
“Push him out of the cab.”
“Her dad can vouch for me, too,” Reese said, sounding about twelve.
“I have to go, Court,” Trudy said, before they started punching each other on the arm. “It’s going to be a while.” She handed Reese his pen back and started to put the wrapping paper back in the bag one-handed and then looked at it more closely in the lights from the street. “Oh, hell.”
“What?” Courtney said.
“I got birthday paper,” Trudy said. “I need Christmas paper, and this is birthday—”
“Trudy,” Courtney wailed.
“Maybe you can fake it,” Reese said, with badly concealed exasperation. “If it’s just a bunch of animals, it could be anything.”
Trudy held up the paper. It said Happy Birthday over and over and over. “No animals. Just ‘Happy Birthday’ in red.”
“Well, then you’re screwed,” Reese said, sounding bored with the whole thing.
“No, she’s not.” Nolan held out his hand. “Give it here.”
“You’re going to fix this?” Trudy said. “How are you going to fix this?”
Nolan wiggled his fingers. “Gimme.”
She handed the paper over and watched while he took out his pen again and wrote Jesus under every Happy Birthday.
“You’re a grave disappointment, but you’re also a genius,” Trudy said, giving credit where it was due.
“Did he fix it?” Courtney said.
“Yes,” Trudy told her.
“Make him help you get the Mac.”
“Goodbye, Courtney,” Trudy said, and hung up.