Harriet drew back in horror. “Well, I don’t want to see her!”

“You don’t have to interact with her,” Christina promised. “I’ll tell her it’s from you.”

“Whatever.” Harriet sighed, ferreting around in her bag for another dollar bill.

—

At three, the UPS truck trundled over the bricks and stopped outside Christina’s Toy Shop.

“Hey, there, Christina, how are ya?” Chuck, the driver, jumped down and began to unload boxes.

“Good, Chuck. You?” Christina came out of her shop with a smile for the driver but a sinking heart. Wink hadn’t returned.

“Lots of work these days. It’s a busy season,” Chuck told her, heading for the back of the truck. He slid the panel door up.

A cough caught Christina’s attention. She turned to see Wink standing at the corner of her shop, staring down at the bricks, shoulders clenched.

“Wink!” Christina called brightly. “You’re here. Thank heavens. Chuck, this is Wink. She’s going to help carry in the boxes for me.”

“Good for you, kid!” Chuck said. “But you know, I can carry them inside.”

“Not today, thanks,” Christina said firmly.

“Okay with me. Here, take this one.” He handed one of the smaller brown boxes to the girl.

Christina went inside. She showed Wink where to stack the boxes behind the counter.

The girl’s face turned red with effort, but she didn’t complain, and Christina refused to feel pity, because the merchandise was mostly small objects, and the brown boxes they arrived in were small, too.

After Chuck left, a customer stopped by, so she asked Wink to wait a moment for her pay. The woman bought a miniature wicker picnic basket with child-size plates and utensils strapped neatly in place for her granddaughter and left.

“You worked about fifteen minutes,” Christina said to Wink, who was leaning on one of the boxes, looking expectant. “At twenty dollars an hour, that makes your pay one quarter of an hour, which is five dollars.” She put a five-dollar bill on the counter next to her.

“Five dollars?” The girl’s shoulders slumped.

Christina wanted to explain that she hadn’t even worked fifteen minutes, and the UPS man would have carried all the boxes into the shop by himself, and in this economy she cherished every five dollars she possessed.

But it was Christmas. “Also, I have a present for you, Wink.” She handed her the gift bag.

Or tried to. Wink drew back, as if afraid to touch the bag. “I-I-I don’t have anything for you,” she stuttered.

“Oh, sweetie, that’s all right. Here. Take it. I think you’ll like it.”