“Kids’ hockey league,” Tony said. “It’s a pet project of my division. We fund coaching and ice time in all five boroughs.”

Elaine wasn’t surprised. Hockey used to be his life. It was supposed to be his future, his career. She couldn’t help wondering about him as she studied this new, different Tony who hadn’t changed a bit, who still set her heart on fire. What was his life now? Expired licences and shoplifters?

“What can we do for you?” Melanie asked.

That entrancing smile never wavered. “Anything you can spare. It’s Christmas Eve,” he reminded them needlessly.

“That’s great that you’re helping out inner-city kids,” Jen said.

“It’s an outstanding idea,” Elaine announced.

“Thanks. I’m sorry to say, funds are low this year. We’re going to need a miracle to keep the league going.”

“You ought to have a gala.” Jenny beamed at him. “Trust me, we know about this stuff. We’re publicists.”

He looked blank.

“We are responsible for getting our clients’ faces in front of the press, or getting their products mentioned in magazines as the hot new must-have. That sort of thing,” Elaine said. “I’ve never heard of your organization. You should do some PR for exposure. It would increase your contributions tremendously. Trust me, I know the benefits of PR.”

“Yeah? What do you charge?” When she didn’t answer, he grinned. “I can’t afford you. Anyway, the time I put in is just as important.”

Everyone went for their bags. It struck Elaine that she hadn’t always hated Christmas. Sure, her self-disciplined approach to life had never allowed her to indulge too freely in the frivolities of the season. But, now that she thought about it, she once loved the warmth and joy of the season, the sentimental music and the spirit of generosity that took over even the most miserly of individuals. When had that hardened into annoyance and exasperation?

Watching Tony, she knew precisely when. It began the night he’d let her down. Right then had begun a slow erosion of the spirit. Hope had deflated, giving way to bleak reality. She’d begun to view the world through the eyes of a cynic. In the most holy of seasons, she saw greed instead of generosity, phoniness instead of sincerity. She’d learned to expect the worst of people and she was never disappointed.

Hiding her troubled thoughts, she rummaged deep in her handbag, sifting through gear she toted everywhere but the shower.

No wallet.

She frowned and rummaged some more, searching for the smooth leather case stuffed with plastic cards and folded bills.

No wallet.