Elaine shoved them in her purse. “Then I’d better take them to him.”

On her way out, she found her parents to say good-night.

Startled, her mother studied her. “Are you ill?”

“I’ve never felt better.” Elaine leaned forward for the customary makeup-preserving air kiss, then impulsively hugged her mother close and embraced her father. “Merry Christmas,” she said to them both, and realized it was the first time she’d said those words in years.

Chapter Twelve

chapter twelve

Outside, the world had gone white; the streets and sidewalks were smooth and clean. Sable, the doorman, who was actually a woman, phoned for a taxi and they waited together in the gleaming, midcentury-era lobby.

“So, the man who just left—Mr. Fiore—didn’t take a taxi?” Elaine asked.

“No. He had his own car.” Sable studied the thick fall of snow on the pavement outside. “Bad night for driving.”

“Did you see which way he went?”

“Toward Roosevelt, I guess.”

Nervous, Elaine studied Sable. The unflattering double-breasted uniform had not changed in generations, and on a young woman, it looked particularly absurd. At least in winter, the traditional warm coachman’s cloak helped conceal the two-toned fashion crime. “Do you have plans for tonight?” Elaine asked her suddenly.

Sable glanced behind her to see who Elaine was talking to. “Me?” She put a hand to her chest. “I got to play Santa Claus to my two kids.”

Until now, Elaine had never realized Sable had kids. “Sounds like fun.”

“Oh, it is.” Her glance crept almost imperceptibly to the lobby clock. “This year, there’s a bike and a dollhouse to put together. I imagine my husband made a good start on the bike, but he doesn’t know the first thing about dollhouses.” She smiled, and there was a special quality to her smile, a softness made of love and pride and wistfulness. “He’ll have his hands full getting them to bed.”

“Then you should go home and help him,” Elaine said, surprising herself with the words.

Sable glanced at the lobby clock. “Ravi doesn’t come in for another hour.”

Despite her urgency to find Tony, Elaine felt a keen sense of sympathy. She hesitated, the dilemma weighing heavily on her.

She’d lost Tony for a long time. Now she knew where to find him. Yet here was a woman who was working rather than tucking her babies in on Christmas Eve. How could anything in the world be more important than that? True giving meant sacrifice, didn’t it? “I’ll cover for you.”

Sable laughed. “I don’t think so, Ms. St. James. I could lose my job if someone found out.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Things like that don’t happen to good people on Christmas. Now, hand over the cloak and hat and whistle.”