“I’m sorry I disappointed you all,” she said. “I’m worried, too. Here’s what I’ll do. I’m going to call and ask for a private appointment with Oscar Bittlesman. I’ll state my case logically, and I’ll present it as fiercely and firmly as I can. I’ll let you know what happens.”

Mimi began to hum the theme song from Rocky.

Harriet raised her two arms in the air. “Go, Christina! You’re our hero.”

Jacob said, “She’s our heroine.”

Christina smiled and said, “You all had better wait and see.”

—

Wink arrived at the shop for her “job” at exactly one o’clock. Several customers had asked to have their purchases gift wrapped, and after Christina showed Wink how to wrap the presents neatly, Wink tucked into a space in the corner and worked away. She was tidy and careful and efficient.

When the shop was empty, Christina told Wink about the Christmas movies coming to the Dreamland. As they moved around setting the shelves in order, they felt the wind rise. Waves sloshed around beneath the wharf and even with the space heater, the interior of the shop was chilly.

Just before dark, Wink raced over to the public restroom on the north side of the wharf.

“Christina, I almost fell into the harbor!” Wink announced as she returned to the shop. “The bathroom door is so close to the water.”

Christina knelt and wrapped her arms around Wink. “Oh, dear, are you all right?”

“Oh, I’m okay. I just got scared.”

“The other shopkeepers and I have to have that changed. Maybe we can concentrate on that after the first of the year.” Christina started to say more—she started to say, Tell your grandfather that you almost fell into the water! That might make him understand Christina’s point of view—true, their sheds were quaint, but the facilities needed improving. But she knew it wouldn’t be right to use Wink as a pawn in her battle with Oscar.

A mother and daughter entered the shop just then, and Christina and Wink went back to work. At four, Wink skipped down to Main Street where Janice was waiting to drive her home.

Light faded from the sky. Fewer people came into Christina’s shop. It was bitterly cold outside. Christina was determined to stay open until six, because she usually had a few customers who raced in, bought something at the end of the day, and raced away. But now, for the few minutes she was alone, she decided to make a phone call.

She found the landline number in the phone book. She dialed.

A woman answered, very formally. “Bittlesman residence.”

“Hi, Janice. It’s me, Christina. Could I speak with Mr. Bittlesman, please?”

“Oh, honey, he left the island this morning.”

“Oh! No, wait, I mean old Mr. Bittlesman. Oh, dear, don’t tell him I said old. I meant Mr. Bittlesman senior.”