Christmas Angels Read online

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  CHAPTER ONE

  The Tree Topper

  “A little more to the left! A little higher! OK, stop!”

  Kate Roseberry took a giant step back and suddenly jumped, startled. She turned to see what had stopped her progress, her dark ponytail slapping her cheek as she spun: Her back was pressed against an Auntie Anne’s pretzel kiosk.

  She laughed at her overreaction and then said to the girl in the smock and paper hat, “Can I get a cinnamon sugar?” before turning back around.

  “Perfect!” she yelled to three members of her team, who were each on hydraulic lifts decorating a twenty-four-foot artificial Christmas tree that resembled a majestic mountain pine.

  The tree stood in the center of St. Louis Tower, a brand new, glimmering high-rise downtown, near the base of the Mississippi River. A new shopping mall—a cavernous space with a three-story atrium—comprised the bottom portion of the Tower, while offices filled the top floors.

  Kate had gone big in her holiday design for the mall, knowing that anything too small would feel out of scale in the wide-open space.

  Like putting a bow tie on King Kong, Kate remembered thinking when designing her sketches.

  As a result, the massive tree’s limbs held silver, gold, and red ornaments as big as small pumpkins, an analogy that was all too fitting—and all too soon—for many shoppers.

  “It’s not even Thanksgiving yet,” a woman hissed as she strolled by, still wearing shorts since they were having an Indian summer. “Or Halloween!”

  Kate smiled as sweetly as she could. “I know,” she started, “but…”

  Kate stopped herself and blew her bangs out of her eyes. She could explain to the woman—like she had to everyone for years—that she had hundreds of places to decorate in the city, that she couldn’t wait to start until after Halloween ended, and that it took months to plan and execute such intricate designs—especially in places like malls, airports and office towers—but no one cared about that. They just wanted the holidays to look perfect. And Kate was the queen of holiday perfection.

  “Kate! Kate! Hello?”

  Kate followed the rumbling voice of Marvin Stopher, her lead installer, up the tree, his big body dwarfed by the massive trunk. He was like a real-life Disney animator: He transformed gigantic, fake trees—pulling them out of boxes that had been stuffed into a warehouse—and built them piece by piece, with Kate alongside, fluffing each branch until the tree came to life.

  People don’t know the hard work behind the magic, Kate thought.

  “Kate?” Marvin yelled again. “Are you waiting for a pretzel?”

  “What? No!” Kate called to him over the Muzak, the Starbucks baristas and frothers, and the muffled footsteps and chatter of shoppers. “I would never do that while you’re working so hard!”

  She turned her head to the Auntie Anne’s worker and whispered, “Hold that pretzel, OK?” before lifting her head and shouting, “Everyone ready?”

  Marvin and two seasonal workers nodded. They were tiered on individual lifts at different heights and angles to the giant tree, one left, one right, and one center. Marvin was holding a huge ball of gold ribbon.

  That ribbon is long enough to make a cummerbund for Godzilla, should he decide to head to the Met Ball, Kate thought, looking up. She silently chuckled at her monster analogies and reminded herself not to watch any more Halloween horror movies.

  Marvin held the ribbon, readying himself to toss it expertly to the next person, who would then catch it and toss it to the next, before they draped it through the branches.

  “Everyone ready?” Kate yelled. “Let’s do this!”

  Like a carefully choreographed Harlem Globetrotters routine, the three tossed and caught the ribbon, before tucking it just so.

  “Now it’s your turn!” Marvin called to Kate as he lowered his lift to the ground and stepped off.

  Kate grabbed a box and stepped onto the lift, toggling the lever and moving up, up, up, until she was floating at the tip-top of the tree, above the mall, seemingly ready to ascend through the huge skylight and toward heaven.

  She reached into the box and carefully unpeeled layers of Bubble Wrap. Kate smiled. There, smiling back, was an angel, the topper for the tree. Kate stood with the giant angel, positioned herself on her tiptoes, and stretched, placing the angel on the top of the tree, until it was secure and straight as an arrow. She found the plug on the angel’s back and inserted it into the green cord clipped to the branch. Suddenly, the angel came to life, glowing, the LED lights on its wings strobing, as if it were flying. A few people in the mall applauded.

  For a brief moment, Kate stood nearly face-to-face with the angel, floating above the world.

  Tree toppers—be it cupids shooting faux, lit arrows on Valentine’s Day trees or hopping bunnies juggling colorful eggs atop Easter trees—were Kate’s signature. And Kate always topped the tree herself.

  To Kate, this final act was akin to an author writing The End when a book was finished, an actor taking center stage to bow during a curtain call, or a chef bringing out a special dessert. Kate believed every tree deserved an exclamation point of beauty. And she believed that people, especially at the holidays, needed something to look up to, something to raise their heads, something to inspire them.

  I certainly do this year, Kate thought as the angel blinked in front of her eyes.

  “I don’t think I can be as bright as you this holiday season,” Kate whispered to the angel. “Just not feeling in the holiday spirit any more.”

  Kate reached up to touch the angel’s face and look into its shining eyes, her mind whirring back a year.

  * * *

  “No, you do the honors.”

  Kate sipped a glass of champagne in front of the fireplace of her 1920s St. Louis bungalow, whose walls and stained glass windows were twinkling in the light from the Christmas tree. The spirit of the holidays filled the tiny house, along with the smells of Christmas: a live Fraser fir tree, wood crackling in the fireplace, sugar cookies baking in the oven.

  “Are you sure? It’s kinda your thing.”

  Kate laughed at her boyfriend, Tyler. He was standing holding the topper for the tree—an heirloom angel her mother and grandmother had given her years ago for good luck when she started her business—a nervous look etched on his face, like a kid who has to recite a speech in front of the whole school.

  “I’m sure,” she said. “I’ve earned a break.”

  “OK then,” Tyler said. “Hope it meets your expectations.”

  Kate watched her boyfriend—My boyfriend! she thought, her heart skipping a beat—turn and place the heirloom tree topper atop the freshly cut fir.

  He looks so handsome in the light, Kate thought, his emerald eyes twinkling, his cheeks rosy, his blond hair aglow. Almost as if he were lit from within, like the antique ornaments on the tree.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “Perfe
ct,” Kate said, sipping her champagne. “Never had a doubt.”

  “And what do you think about this?” he asked again. Kate looked at him, cocking her head in confusion. Tyler was now standing before her holding a tiny box wrapped in gold foil paper and topped with a red velvet bow. “I thought this would be a fitting gift.”

  Kate’s mouth dropped.

  A ring?! We’ve been dating less than a year, Kate thought, her mind racing. It seems so soon. But I do love him. I do! Oh, my gosh, I said, ‘I do!’

  “No, it’s not that … yet,” Tyler said, reading her mind. “It’s something I thought would be personally meaningful to you.”

  Kate felt a simultaneous rush of relief and disappointment. Yet, she thought, smiling to herself. He said “yet.”

  Kate opened the box and, again, her mouth fell open.

  “Kate, are you OK?” Tyler asked. “Don’t you like it? Is something wrong?”

  * * *

  “Kate, are you OK? Don’t you like it? Is something wrong?”

  Kate blinked, once, twice, and realized she was still on the hydraulic lift, facing the angel, blinking in motion with it.

  She looked down and realized it was Marvin yelling at her.

  “Are you OK?” he asked again. “Is there something wrong with the tree topper?”

  “No,” Kate yelled, still staring at the angel.

  No, she thought. Except they’re not all they’re cracked up to be. Just like the holidays. It’s all just pretend. There are no guardian angels in this world. There is no perfect holiday.

  “Are you ready to come down?” Marvin yelled.

  I am, Kate thought, lowering the lift. Just like a fallen angel descending toward earth.

  Marvin was packing up stray boxes when she returned. “Beautiful,” he said. “As usual. I’m headed off to decorate Union Station. Meet you there?”

  Kate nodded. “Running back to the office,” she said. “See you in an hour.”

  Kate watched Marvin pack up a flatbed dolly and haul it away. As soon as he was out of earshot, she turned to the Auntie Anne’s worker and said, “Got that pretzel?”

  She had just taken her first bite—her lips ringed in cinnamon and sugar—when she heard a man’s voice ask, “Hungry?”

  Kate turned. A handsome man, holding an orange and black bag, stood before her. Kate’s eyes widened. She smiled apprehensively, and the sugar fell from her lips.

  “I’m just teasing,” the man said. “I’m Chad Cooper. I’m a partner in Cooper, Anderson, Schiff & Hines, the law firm at the top of the Tower.”

  Kate stared at the man.

  “I hired you to decorate our offices for the holidays,” he said, smiling. “And you’re pulling out all the stops for our firm’s holiday party. Remember?”

  “Oh my gosh,” Kate said, her cheeks flushing. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Cooper.”

  “Chad,” he said. “Please.”

  “Chad,” Kate said, nervously wiping her mouth and rubbing it on the T-shirt she had thrown on to decorate. She extended her hand. Chad shook it, then lifted his hand in front of his eyes to inspect it.

  “Cinnamon sugar?” he asked.

  Kate’s entire body blushed, before Chad said, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

  Kate laughed and self-consciously smoothed her ponytail with her free hand. “A girl gets hungry,” she said. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

  She looked up at the giant Christmas tree filling the atrium. “I often feel like I’m time-traveling. Living in a world months ahead of everyone else.” Kate nodded at Chad’s bag. “I mean, it’s not even Halloween yet, and I’m already decking the halls with boughs of holly instead of pumpkins.”

  Chad chuckled. “It’s sort of the same in my work,” he said. “People only see a five-second interview with me on TV and not the endless hours of work that started months, if not years, ago.”

  Kate nodded, now remembering how many times she had seen the well-known St. Louis attorney’s boyishly handsome face on TV and in the newspaper.

  And I didn’t remember, Kate thought, silently admonishing herself. One of my biggest clients.

  Chad seemed to pick up on her anxiety and said, “It’s OK. You’re busy and distracted. The holidays are hard.”

  Kate smiled.

  “And speaking of the holidays,” Chad continued, giving his bag a shake, “I’m still working on Halloween.”

  Kate suddenly remembered Chad had a son. She had decorated his private school’s Lessons and Carols holiday concert and reception a couple of years back. Chad had remembered her work, and that’s why he had hired her to do his firm’s offices and parties this year.

  He stopped and looked up at the tree in the center of the mall. “It’s so ironic,” he said, pulling a costume from the bag. “It’s an angel. Like your tree topper.”

  Kate looked at the picture of the costume on the front of the bag and smiled. The angel’s gown was white satin with a gold belt, and it had white wings with gold tips. A halo of white fluff hovered over the little boy’s head.

  “It’s adorable,” Kate said. “How old is your son now?”

  “Coop is seven,” Chad said. “I’m a little worried the other kids will make fun of his costume, but he refused to go as anything else this year.”

  All of a sudden, Chad stopped. Kate thought she saw his strong jaw tremble. The fierce trial lawyer St. Louisans saw on TV and in the newspaper—the one who never seemed at a loss for words—suddenly looked like a little boy himself. Chad ran a hand through his sandy hair, flecked with silver, and then nervously straightened his tie.

  “I just can’t find any Trick-or-Treat bags that work with this costume,” he said as if in a trance. “I’ve looked everywhere. All the Halloween stores have are pumpkin buckets or spooky bags. And I can’t give him a pillowcase. That would make me Worst Dad of the Year.”

  Chad shook his head and put the costume back in the shopping bag.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he muttered.

  He seems so out of sorts for such an in-control guy, Kate thought.

  “I have an idea,” Kate said gently. “Why don’t I make him a Trick-or-Treat bag that looks like a little cloud? I’ll just get a container and glue some cotton balls around it. It’ll be perfect. Oh, and I think I have a little harp that I use for Christmas that might be cute for him to carry around, too.”

  Chad smiled and reached out to touch Kate on the arm. “I can never thank you enough,” he said. “Truly.”

  Kate’s heart skipped a beat at the emotion in Chad’s voice.

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “Just consider it payback for me not remembering you at first, and a thank-you for your belief in me and my company.”

  “OK,” Chad said.

  “I’ll drop it by your office,” she said. “I’ve got some finishing touches to do here later anyway.”

  “It was nice to see you again, Kate,” Chad said. “And, again, thank you.”

  Chad turned and stopped, his eyes looking toward the top of the tree.

  “Do you still believe in angels?” he asked, giving his bag a gentle shake.

  Kate’s eyes grew wide. What a strange question, she thought. And why is he asking me that? Her heart began to race as she again thought of Tyler.

  “Forget it,” Chad said, starting to walk away. “Odd question, I know.”

  “Yes,” Kate blurted, stopping Chad in his tracks. “I do. Although it’s hard to do sometimes.”

  Do I? she suddenly thought. Where did that come from?

  Chad smiled weakly. “I like your honesty,” he said quietly. He hesitated and then mumbled, seemingly to himself, “I used to believe they were everywhere.”

  He gave Kate a faint smile. “See you later,” he said, walking away and disappearing into the crowd of shoppers.

  What was all that about? Kate wondered.

  Kate realized she was still holding her pretzel, and she took a big bite of the sweet dough, the conversation replaying in
her mind.

  “Do you still believe in angels?” she could still hear Chad asking. Do I?

  Kate looked at the tree again, and what she had with Tyler popped into her mind once more. Without warning, the sadness returned. Last year was so magical, Kate thought, tears springing to her eyes. As they started to run down her cheeks, Kate turned quickly and rushed out of the mall past shoppers before anyone could see her.

  She made it to the garage, dropped her pretzel into a garbage can, and found her van before collapsing into sobs. The painted logo on the side of her van—HOLIDAYS BY KATE!—was blurry through her tears. Kate walked up to the van and felt the magnetized banner underneath her logo—Make Your Christmas Sparkle!

  I wish I could move you ahead to Easter, Kate thought.

  Kate changed out the banners for each season and holiday, magnets that rotated between Make Your Easter a ‘Hoppy’ One!, Celebrate Your Graduate in Style!, or Turn Your Halloween Party Into a Howling Success!

  But Christmas was—usually—Kate’s season to sparkle.

  Ever since she was a girl, Kate loved to make the world pretty and the holidays perfect. Her mother and grandmother had taught her the beauty of family heirlooms and traditions.

  “Memories are things you can’t buy in a box store,” her grandmother had always said.

  Her whole life Kate had wanted to be a decorator, and she had found her own niche, holiday decorating, the one that made her—and everyone around her—the happiest.

  Her career had seemed as dreamy as a flocked tree, but now it just seemed like a façade.

  Kate’s heart leapt into her throat, and she turned to press her forehead against the cold metal of the van, to cool her emotions.

  When she lifted her face, she finally noticed that someone had stuck a Post-It Note on her van. She took a step back, and its message became clear. The word UNHAPPY had been written in Magic Marker on the Post-It Note, which had been stuck in front of her HOLIDAYS BY KATE! banner. Kate turned and scanned the mall’s parking garage, but it was quiet, save for a few cars parking and shoppers strolling out with bags.

  Unnerved, Kate jumped into the driver’s seat and navigated out of the parking garage. She turned on the radio to find one of her favorite radio stations. The station was already playing holiday music twenty-four hours a day.