“I’m sure you’ll be happy to get back to your family in England.” She leaned forward, as if about to impart a secret that would totally enlighten Grant. “You don’t want to be here near Christmas. People tend to go a bit nuts.”

Grant nodded.

I know one person in particular.

The room was smaller than small, barely enough space for Grant and his carry-on bag. The walls were bright—he was tempted to turn off the lights to see if they actually glowed in the dark. Grant crossed to the window and opened the shade. He had a very nice view of a brick building across a service alley. And this was a deluxe room. He had figured, Why not splurge while on the public dole? He couldn’t even imagine the view a standard room offered.

Way too wired to consider sleep and realizing he would just stumble over himself in the tight confines of his room, he decided to go for a walk.

Once outside, Grant was fully aware of what the receptionist had been talking about. Even at nine o’clock on a Monday evening, the city was buzzing with yuletide cheer, even if it was more like “Christmas—The Infomercial.” Every window celebrated, announced, or pushed the upcoming holiday. From “Xmas Slash Sale” to giant Advent calendars, from plastic blow-up reindeers to Santa-clad mannequins, each storefront vied for the consumer’s eye and pocketbook.

It reminded Grant that he wasn’t going to have to rack his brain to come up with the perfect Christmas gift for Allison. As much as he hated the pushing and shoving he had to endure each December to get the desired item, it was worth it seeing Allison’s face light up each Christmas morning as she unfurled the gift his hands had clumsily wrapped in too much paper. Now, with Allison gone forever, a daughter who wouldn’t answer his e-mails, let alone accept a gift, Grant’s Christmas list was quite empty. He understood why so many called these weeks the Most Dreadful Time of Year.

Suddenly, Grant was swallowed up by a horde of happy Manhattanites exiting Radio City Music Hall. Many were jolly families, some executing ridiculous leg kicks. The placards in the building’s showcases advertised the “Holiday Show Featuring the World-Famous Rockettes.” He was swept up by the masses down Fiftieth Street, where the largest Christmas tree he had ever seen was aglow in all its glory with a host of ice skaters swooshing in circles below it.

Grant took it all in and tried to get in the spirit of the season. But this proved difficult, knowing that evil had made its way across the Atlantic to wreak havoc on unsuspecting New Yorkers.

Happy Holidays, everyone, from the worst of Merry England!

Turning away from the holiday lights, he shuffled on.

Saint Patrick’s Cathedral.