Christmas Angels Read online

  Kate gunned her van as she hit the interstate and headed into downtown St. Louis from the riverfront. As she merged into traffic, Kate looked at the driver’s side mirror. The sticky note took off, flying, floating in the current.

  It looks just like an … Kate thought, stopping herself, willing herself not to say the word. The Post-It Note continued to flitter, growing smaller in Kate’s mirror, before it disappeared just as “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” came on the radio.

  Kate flicked off the radio and headed in the direction of her office. In the near distance, the Arch glimmered in the sun, a halo effect over the silver landmark, its base like a shimmery skirt.

  Kate shook her head at the irony of the image in front of her: The Arch resembled a giant, glowing angel that had landed over St. Louis.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Holiday Pin

  Kate padded into her tiny kitchen, her slippers sliding across the black-and-white checkerboard floor, and reached into the old cupboards she’d refinished and repainted herself. She pulled out a mug, sighing at her ironic selection: On the front of her cup was a trio of Santa’s elves drinking coffee and working even faster than usual, their little stocking-ed legs dangling over a banner that read: Did Someone Say Christmas?!

  Kate poured herself a cup of coffee and nodded her head in agreement: That’s exactly how I feel, fellas.

  But now it feels like work, Kate thought, and not a calling.

  She stepped into the dining room and looked out the old, wavy double windows, which revealed a row of gingerbread brick bungalows each sitting atop a small hill and yard. It was a dark, blustery early December day, and Kate took another sip as her eyes tried to adjust. All of a sudden, the neighborhood exploded in twinkling lights. The trunks and branches of trees sparkled, candy canes blinked, wreaths glowed, and blow-up Santas on roofs came to life.

  What the…? Kate thought.

  And then she realized the lack of sunlight had triggered many of the home’s holiday lights to pop on, tricking them into believing it was already nightfall.

  Kate glanced at her own yard, before turning to survey her living and dining rooms. They were emptier than if the Grinch had swept through last night unannounced.

  Kate sat in a chair in front of her fireplace and took another big sip of coffee. She tried not to look, but she couldn’t help but stare into the corner of the living room, where a tree usually stood guard this time of year, and then around the room, which had been filled with so much holiday joy last year. Kate shook her head, strode into her bathroom, and turned on the shower, until the steam filled the room. She stood under the hot water until her mind cleared.

  Kate pulled on a turtleneck and slacks, did her makeup and pulled her hair into a work-ready pony, and then gave herself a once-over in the full-length mirror. Since she was always on the move—unpacking, decorating, hauling—she tried to dress comfortably but professionally, especially if she was in client offices. She’d learned early on that wearing a skirt on a lift wasn’t a good idea, nor was wearing anything too nice, as she ended up snagging it. Moreover, she was covered in glitter nearly every day.

  Still, I need something to jazz myself up today, Kate thought. I can’t look as gloomy as the weather.

  Kate opened the beautiful wooden jewelry box that sat on her dresser. Her parents gave her the box for Christmas when she was a girl, and she smiled at the scroll-y “K” carved on top. When she opened it, music from The Nutcracker spilled forth.

  This is where her favorite heirloom jewelry lived, be it the mood ring from grade school or the pearl earrings her grandmother had given her when she graduated college.

  I need a long necklace, Kate thought, rummaging through the box, or a pin.

  Her fingers brushed a tiny velvety purse, and she picked it up. She opened the tie at the end and gave the purse a little shake. A pin of an angel came tumbling into her hand.

  Kate gasped and dropped it, as if it were poisonous.

  As if in a trance, Kate walked into the living room, stood by the fireplace, and stared at the empty spot in the corner, recalling Christmas a year ago.

  * * *

  “Are you OK?” Tyler asked. “Don’t you like it?”

  “Tyler,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “Where did you find this?”

  “It’s an heirloom,” he said. “I found it an antique store. I know how much you love antique things, from holiday decorations to furniture. I just thought … well … that it seemed perfect for you.”

  The little cherub pin was gold, its eyes happy and bright, and it was playing a harp, which was studded—like its wings—with small diamonds.

  “Tyler, no, it’s too much,” Kate protested.

  “No, it’s not,” he said, walking over and kneeling in front of her. “I love you. You’re my angel.”

  * * *

  A car alarm suddenly went off in Kate’s neighborhood, and she realized she was once again staring into space, listening to ghosts.

  Kate shook her head, turned off the lights in her house, and grabbed her keys. But as she strode to the door, she stopped, turned, and walked back to her dresser.

  “Just because he wasn’t ready doesn’t mean you aren’t,” Kate remembered her mother telling her after the breakup. “It’s brave to fall in love and open your heart that much. Guardian angels surround you. You just don’t see them anymore.”

  Kate opened her jewelry box again, picked up the angel, and pinned it to her sweater.

  * * *

  Cooper, Anderson, Schiff & Hines was nestled on the top four floors of St. Louis Tower, far above the mall below.

  Kate merged onto the elevator with a sea of people and pushed 30. When she stepped into the quiet, moneyed lobby of the law firm—which represented the city’s biggest figures and businesses, including the beloved St. Louis Cardinals—she couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

  “May I help you?” a receptionist with a severe gray bob and imposing eyeglasses asked, giving Kate a dismissive look.

  “Oh,” Kate said. “Sorry. But the letters of the firm’s principles spell out CASH. Get it? C-A-S-H. I never noticed that until now.”

  “May … I … help … you?” the receptionist asked again, her words matching the frigid weather.

  “I’m sorry,” Kate said, gathering herself. “Kate Roseberry. I’m decorating your offices for your firm’s party this weekend.”

  “Conference Floor, one level up,” the woman said. “And please tell your team to take the freight elevator. They’re already here … and have been quite, shall we say, disruptive.”

  Kate mustered up a smile for the woman, wondering if she had a chance to assert her passive-aggressive authority anywhere else except here. “I’m deeply sorry for any inconvenience,” Kate said, heading toward the elevator. “Thank you.”

  Kate emerged one floor up and was immediately greeted by Marvin and Claire, her young assistant.

  “Did you meet the Dragon Lady?” Claire asked, her puppy-like enthusiasm causing her wavy red hair to bounce. That’s when Kate noticed she was wearing a Santa hat.

  “Claire,” Kate said as a warning.

  “Kate,” Claire mimicked. “I’m sorry, but she’s cray-cray.”

  “She’s not the only one, Mrs. Claus,” Kate said. “Marvin, radio everyone and tell them to take the freight elevator, or this will be our last holiday job here.”

  Marvin picked up his radio, while Claire grabbed Kate’s arm and dragged her down the hall. “‘Your little group is being quite disruptive,’” Claire said as they walked, imitating the receptionist. “How was I to know she wouldn’t like my ensemble? I think it’s quite fetching for the holidays.”

  Kate tried to stifle a laugh, but she couldn’t. A dose of Claire was just what she needed this morning. “So, how’s it going?”

  They rounded a corner, Claire announcing, “Like this.”

  Kate gasped. The “Conference Floor” was truly just that: It was comprised of moving walls that
allowed the cavernous space to be divided up as needed. In this case, nearly half of the thirty-first floor was being used for the party—and CASH’s five hundred employees.

  “I’d forgotten how big this space was … and these views!” Kate said, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that delivered sweeping views of the Arch, the city skyline, the Mississippi River, and the bridges leading into Illinois. “Amazing!”

  “Umm, what about the design?” Claire asked, walking over and turning Kate around.

  “Sorry,” Kate said, a big smile slowly crossing her face. “Even more amazing.”

  Claire jumped up and down, her Santa hat bouncing. “Yay, thank you,” she said. “We followed your design down to the last bow. Looks like Christmas threw up in here, doesn’t it?”

  Kate cocked her head at her assistant. “So eloquent,” she said.

  “Just quoting the queen,” Claire laughed. “That’s what you said after a few glasses of champagne last year when the season ended. Remember?”

  Kate nodded. And, in a definitely lowbrow way, Claire was right: The once bland, empty space was overflowing with the warmth, beauty, and spirit of the holidays. Two cocktail bars—draped in shimmering fabric—flanked the room. Food stations would be set up in old-fashioned sleighs. The entire ceiling had been draped in real pine boughs, twinkling with soft white lights; gold and silver ornaments hung from the boughs at different heights. A dance floor in the middle of the space had been designed to look like a Currier and Ives frozen pond; a DJ booth—in a white gazebo—stood nearby. Wreaths danced on the many windows, and four silver trees—dressed in gold—stood in the four corners.

  “Stunning,” Kate said, as Marvin entered the room. She turned to the rest of the team, who were still tweaking, adjusting, and decorating. “You all outdid yourselves.”

  “No, you did,” Claire said, nodding at her boss, her Santa hat nodding as well.

  “As usual,” Marvin added. “Even…” He hesitated. “… this year.”

  Kate smiled wanly and began to mouth, “Thank you” when she heard a man’s deep voice behind her say, “You really did outdo yourself.”

  Kate turned, then blushed. Chad stood in front of her, a smile on his face.

  “Chad Cooper, this is Marvin and Claire,” Kate said. “They really did all the work.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Chad said. He shook their hands and again turned to Kate. “I just wanted to stop by and say thanks, not only for what you’ve done here but also for helping my son at Halloween. Some of the kids didn’t understand his costume, but…” All of a sudden, Chad stopped. “Anyway, you really helped me out.” He reached out to touch Kate’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said.

  “I’m sorry I have to go so quickly,” he said, “I have a meeting, but I wanted to say thanks.”

  “I guess we’ll see you this weekend,” Kate said.

  “Oh, I won’t be here,” he said.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Kate said.

  “I have to work,” Chad said. “But I know everyone will have a great time. Thanks for waving your magic wand here. Or maybe magic candy cane is more appropriate for this time of year.”

  Kate smiled. “Thank you.”

  She reached out to shake Chad’s hand, but when he glanced at Kate’s sweater, his mouth dropped open.

  “Where did you get that pin?” he asked as if she were on trial.

  “What?” Kate started. “This?”

  She looked down at the pin and fumbled her words.

  “Um, it was a gift,” she said. “Last year. Long story.”

  Chad nodded and then turned, the shiny leather on his black dress shoes making a subtle squeak. He began to leave the room, before suddenly turning and looking out the windows, his eyes darting back and forth as if he were watching a bird fly. He again glanced at Kate’s pin and whispered to her, “Angels. We can’t escape them, can we?”

  Without another word, Chad turned and left.

  The room was silent. After a few seconds, Claire said, “What was that about? It was like watching an old movie. He seemed to like you, and then he got very mysterious.”

  “He was the same way the last time we met,” Kate said. “Very sweet and then, all of a sudden, very distant and nervous.”

  Marvin moved toward the windows and motioned for Kate and Claire. Marvin produced a folded envelope from his back pocket. “Two of the partners came up here earlier and asked that I give this to you.”

  Kate opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper and a check.

  “Must be the last half of the fee,” Kate said. “Law firms are so timely.”

  She scanned the letter, her eyes growing wider as she read it. She looked up at her colleagues, her mouth open.

  “Oh my gosh,” she said. “Chad’s wife passed away last winter, right before the holidays. She had cancer and was sick for a very long time.”

  Kate continued to read the letter, then looked at Marvin and Claire. “They want me to decorate Chad’s home,” she said. “They said he won’t do it for himself, and they’re worried about him and his son. He already told them he’s not going to Chicago to visit his or his late wife’s family, and he instructed them he doesn’t want visitors.”

  “I can’t do it,” Kate continued, her eyes darting from Marvin to Claire, shaking her head, her ponytail bouncing emphatically. “It just seems like such an intrusion on his privacy. Who can tell someone when they’re ready to heal again and move on? I mean, I’m still not ready, and I didn’t experience anything like what he did.”

  “But what about his son?” Marvin asked in his quiet way. “What if he needs to heal, or even have some second of happiness, and his dad’s too sad to see that or help him?”

  Kate bowed her head, her mind whirling, and she shut her eyes to say a little prayer. When she opened them, the diamonds on the wings of the angel pin were shimmering, as if it were flying.

  “Angels,” Kate heard Chad say. “We can’t escape them, can we?”

  No, Kate thought. We can’t.

  She looked at Marvin and Claire, gave the letter and check a hearty shake, and said, “I’m doing it. But I’ll need your help and all of your support.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Snow Angel

  St. Louis did not handle the snow well. Two inches of snow sent the city into an all-out panic.

  In fact, St. Louisans handled even the most modest of snowfalls as if an apocalypse were imminent, and they immediately had to obtain every loaf of bread, carton of eggs, and gallon of milk they could lay their hands on.

  Kate drove by Schnucks, the local grocery chain. Its parking lot was jammed, even though the snow had just begun to coat the roads.

  They expect to be snowbound after four inches of snow? Kate chuckled. And to eat French toast for a week?

  A line of snowplows eased onto Manchester Road, headed for the highways, and traffic slowed to a stop. Kate cracked her window and watched the snow. Even with the traffic, a hush was already beginning to fall over the city, the kind only a snowfall can bring.

  Sometimes Mother Nature forces us all to slow down and stop, Kate thought.

  The snow—heavy, wet—made a soft whooshing noise as it fell. Suddenly, a snowplow honked. Kate jumped and shut her window.

  She clicked on the radio, and “Let It Snow” came on.

  Holiday irony, you constantly amuse me, Kate thought, smiling.

  Growing up in Chicago, snow had been a season unto itself. “What are the only two seasons in Chicago? Winter and construction,” the old joke went. Kate had loved the long winters when she was younger. She loved the way Chicago looked in winter: Lake Michigan iced over, frozen waves suspended in mid-air, the city streets continuously freshened with a coat of white, the shock of the icy wind contrasted with the warmth of the shops and restaurants.

  Kate had loved to ski and sled. She loved making snow forts, snowmen, and snow ice cream.


  “You should have been born a penguin,” her mother would joke. “Or married Santa so you could live at the North Pole.”

  Maybe that’s why I do what I do, Kate thought. Maybe it’s always called to me.

  Kate eased down Manchester Road, heading west to Chad Cooper’s house. The western suburbs were where most St. Louisans lived. St. Louis was divided between the city and the county, and the divide felt cavernous at times: Citizens flocked to baseball and hockey games, the riverfront’s bars and riverboat casinos as well as the Italian restaurants on the Hill, but then they left the city behind and took their tax money with them.

  Kate was proud to live in the city. She often felt like a pioneer. When she bought her house, everything in life seemed possible.

  Kate passed one of the city’s historic Catholic churches, which was illuminated for the holidays. Stained glass windows sparkled, luminaries shimmered.

  It looks frosty, magical and hopeful in the snow, she thought.

  Her stomach lurched as she thought about Chad and the task at hand.

  Christmas is either the happiest of holidays if you’re blessed, she thought, or the biggest nightmare if you’re not.

  She turned her van onto Warson Road and headed into Ladue, a tony enclave—and one of the wealthiest suburbs in the U.S.—filled with elite prep schools, sprawling estates, and old red brick mansions sheltered from the street. Traffic again slowed as vans similar to Kate’s—for plumbers, contractors, interior designers—plugged the quickly slickening streets.

  Kate heard happy screams over the sound of her holiday music. She lowered the volume.

  In the sloping front yard of a large home, a group of children wearing snowsuits were playing. To Kate, they resembled little, round Weebles, the old toys whose commercials had the tagline, “Weebles wobble, but they don’t fall down.” The kids were running around in puffy coats and little boots, stumbling, tumbling, playing in the snow, their breath coming out as puffs of smoke.