jg.skippingchristmas-第2部分

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ar　the　bread。　Odd　how　that　made　sense　at　Chip's。　The　white　chocolate　was　nowhere　near　the　baking　section；　so　Luther　cursed　under　his　breath　and　trudged　along　the　aisles；　looking　at　everything。　He　got　bumped　by　a　shopping　cart。　No　apology；　no　one　noticed。　〃God　Rest　Ye　Merry　Gentlemen〃　was　ing　from　above；　as　if　Luther　was　supposed　to　be　forted。　Might　as　well　be　〃Frosty　the　Snowman。〃
　Two　aisles　over；　next　to　a　selection　of　rice　from　around　the　world；　there　was　a　shelf　of　baking　chocolates。　As　he　stepped　closer；　he　recognized　a　one…pound　bar　of　Logan's。　Another　step　closer　and　it　suddenly　disappeared；　snatched　from　his　grasp　by　a　harsh…looking　woman　who　never　saw　him。　The　little　space　reserved　for　Logan's　was　empty；　and　in　the　next　desperate　moment　Luther　saw　not　another　speck　of　white　chocolate。　Lots　of　dark　and　medium　chips　and　such；　but　nothing　white。
　The　express　line　was；　of　course；　slower　than　the　other　two。　Chip's　outrageous　prices　forced　its　customers　to　buy　in　small　quantities；　but　this　had　no　effect　whatsoever　on　the　speed　with　which　they　came　and　went。　Each　item　was　lifted；　inspected；　and　manually　entered　into　the　register　by　an　unpleasant　cashier。　Sacking　was　hit　or　miss；　though　around　Christmas　the　sackers　came　to　life　with　smiles　and　enthusiasm　and　astounding　recall　of　customers'　names。　It　was　the　tipping　season；　yet　another　unseemly　aspect　of　Christmas　that　Luther　loathed。
　Six　bucks　and　change　for　a　pound　of　pistachios。　He　shoved　the　eager　young　sacker　away；　and　for　a　second　thought　he　might　have　to　strike　him　to　keep　his　precious　pistachios　out　of　another　bag。　He　stuffed　them　into　the　pocket　of　his　overcoat　and　quickly　left　the　store。　
　A　crowd　had　stopped　to　watch　the　old　Mexican　decorate　his　cigar　store　window。　He　was　plugging　in　little　robots　who　trudged　through　the　fake　snow；　and　this　delighted　the　crowd　no　end；　Luther　was　forced　to　move　off　the　curb；　and　in　doing　so　he　stepped　just　left　instead　of　just　right。　His　left　foot　sank　into　five　inches　of　cold　slush。　He　froze　for　a　split　second；　sucking　in　lungfuls　of　cold　air；　cursing　the　old　Mexican　and　his　robots　and　his　fans　and　the　damned　pistachios。　He　yanked　his　foot　upward　and　slung　dirty　water　on　his　pants　leg；　and　standing　at　the　curb；　with　two　frozen　feet　and　the　bell　clanging　away　and　〃Santa　Claus　Is　ing　to　Town〃　blaring　from　the　loudspeaker　and　the　sidewalk　blocked　by　revelers；　Luther　began　to　hate　Christmas。
　The　water　had　seeped　into　his　toes　by　the　time　he　reached　his　car。　〃No　white　chocolate；〃　he　hissed　at　Nora　as　he　crawled　behind　the　wheel。
　She　was　wiping　her　eyes。
　〃What　is　it　now？〃　he　demanded。
　〃I　just　talked　to　Blair。〃
　〃What？　How？　Is　she　all　right？〃
　〃She　called　from　the　airplane。　She's　fine。〃　Nora　was　biting　her　lip；　trying　to　recover。
　Exactly　how　much　does　it　cost　to　phone　home　from　thirty　thousand　feet？　Luther　wondered。　He'd　seen　phones　on　planes。　Any　credit　card'll　do。　Blair　had　one　he'd　given　her；　the　type　where　the　bills　are　sent　to　Mom　and　Dad。　From　a　cell　phone　up　there　to　a　cell　phone　down　here；　probably　at　least　ten　bucks。
　And　for　what？　I'm　fine；　Mom。　Haven't　seen　you　in　almost　an　hour。　We　all　love　each　other。　We'll　all　miss　each　other。　Gotta　go；　Mom。
　The　engine　was　running　though　Luther　didn't　remember　starting　it。
　〃You　forgot　the　white　chocolate？〃　Nora　asked；　fully　recovered。
　〃No。　I　didn't　forget　it。　They　didn't　have　any。〃
　〃Did　you　ask　Rex？〃
　〃Who's　Rex？〃
　〃The　butcher。〃
　〃No；　Nora；　for　some　reason　I　didn't　think　to　ask　the　butcher　if　he　had　any　white　chocolate　hidden　among　his　chops　and　livers。〃
　She　yanked　the　door　handle　with　all　the　frustration　she　could　muster。　〃I　have　to　have　it。　Thanks　for　nothing。〃　And　she　was　gone。
　I　hope　you　step　in　frozen　water；　Luther　grumbled　to　himself。　He　fumed　and　muttered　other　unpleasantries。　He　switched　the　heater　vents　to　the　floorboard　to　thaw　his　feet；　then　watched　the　large　people　e　and　go　at　the　burger　place。　Traffic　was　stalled　on　the　streets　beyond。
　How　nice　it　would　be　to　avoid　Christmas；　he　began　to　think。　A　snap　of　the　fingers　and　it's　January　2。　No　tree；　no　shopping；　no　meaningless　gifts；　no　tipping；　no　clutter　and　wrappings；　no　traffic　and　crowds；　no　fruitcakes；　no　liquor　and　hams　that　no　one　needed；　no　〃Rudolph〃　and　〃Frosty；〃　no　office　party；　no　wasted　money。　His　list　grew　long。　He　huddled　over　the　wheel；　smiling　now；　waiting　for　heat　down　below；　dreaming　pleasantly　of　escape。
　She　was　back；　with　a　small　brown　sack　which　she　tossed　beside　him　just　carefully　enough　not　to　crack　the　chocolate　while　letting　him　know　that　she'd　found　it　and　he　hadn't。　〃Everybody　knows　you　have　to　ask；〃　she　said　sharply　as　she　yanked　at　her　shoulder　harness。
　〃Odd　way　of　marketing；〃　Luther　mused；　in　reverse　now。　〃Hide　it　by　the　butcher；　make　it　scarce；　folks'll　clamor　for　it。　I'm　sure　they　charge　more　if　it's　hidden。〃　
　〃Oh　hush；　Luther〃
　〃Are　your　feet　wet？〃
　〃No。　Yours？〃
　〃No。〃
　〃Then　why'd　you　ask？〃
　〃Just　worried。〃
　〃Do　you　think　she'll　be　all　right？〃
　〃She's　on　an　airplane。　You　just　talked　to　her。〃
　〃I　mean　down　there；　in　the　jungle。〃
　〃Stop　worrying；　okay？　The　Peace　Corps　wouldn't　send　her　into　a　dangerous　place。〃
　〃It　won't　be　the　same。〃
　〃What？〃
　〃Christmas。〃
　It　certainly　will　not；　Luther　almost　said。　Oddly；　he　was　smiling　as　he　worked　his　way　through　traffic。
　
　
　Two
　
　With　his　feet　toasty　and　besocked　with　heavy　wool；　Luther　fell　fast　asleep　and　woke　up　even　faster。　Nora　was　roaming。　She　was　in　the　bathroom　flushing　and　flipping　lights；　then　she　left　for　the　kitchen；　where　she　fixed　an　herbal　tea；　then　he　heard　her　down　the　hall　in　Blair's　room；　no　doubt　staring　at　the　walls　and　sniffling　over　where　the　years　had　gone。　Then　she　was　back　in　bed；　rolling　and　jerking　covers　and　trying　her　best　to　wake　him。　She　wanted　dialogue；　a　sounding　board。　She　wanted　Luther　to　assure　her　Blair　was　safe　from　the　horrors　of　the　Peruvian　jungle。
　But　Luther　was　frozen；　not　flinching　at　any　joint；　breathing　as　heavily　as　possible　because　if　the　dialogue　began　again　it　would　run　for　hours。　He　pretended　to　snore　and　that　settled　her　down。
　It　was　after　eleven　when　she　grew　still。　Luther　was　wild…eyed；　and　his　feet　were　smoldering。　When　he　was　absolutely　certain　she　was　asleep；　he　eased　from　the　bed；　ripped　off　the　heavy　socks　and　tossed　them　into　a　corner；　and　tiptoed　down　the　hall　to　the　kitchen　for　a　glass　of　water。　Then　a　pot　of　decaf。
　An　hour　later　he　was　in　his　basement　office；　at　his　desk　with　files　open；　the　puter　humming；　spreadsheets　in　the　printer；　an　investigator　searching　for　evidence。　Luther　was　a　tax　accountant　by　trade；　so　his　records　were　meticulous。　The　evidence　piled　up　and　he　forgot　about　sleep。
　A　year　earlier；　the　Luther　Krank　family　had　spent　6；100　on　Christmas…6；100！…6；100　on　decorations；　lights；　flowers；　a　new　Frosty；　and　a　Canadian　spruce；　6；100　on　hams；　turkeys；　pecans；　cheese　balls；　and　cookies　no　one　ate；　6；100　on　wines　and　liquors　and　cigars　around　the　office；　6；100　on　fruitcakes　from　the　firemen　and　the　rescue　squad；　and　calendars　from　the　police　association；　6；100　on　Luther　for　a　cashmere　sweater　he　secretly　loathed　and　a　sports　jacket　he'd　worn　twice　and　an　ostrich　skin　wallet　that　was　quite　expensive　and　quite　ugly　and　frankly　he　didn't　like　the　feel　of。　On　Nora　for　a　dress　she　wore　to　the　pany's　Christmas　dinner　and　her　own　cashmere　sweater；　which　had　not　been　seen　since　she　unwrapped　it；　and　a　designer　scarf　she　loved；　6；100。　On　Blair　6；100　for　an　overcoat；　gloves　and　boots；　and　a　Walkman　for　her　jogging；　and；　of　course；　the　latest；　slimmest　cell　phone　on　the　market…6；100　on　lesser　gifts　for　a　select　handful　of　distant　relatives；　most　on　Nora's　side…6；100　on　Christmas　cards　from　a　stationer　three　doors　down　from　Chip's；　in　the　District；　where　all　prices　were　double；　6；100　for　the　party；　an　annual　Christmas　Eve　bash　at　the　Krank　home；　
　And　what　was　left　of　it？　Perhaps　a　useful　item　or　two；　but　nothing　much…6；100！
　With　great　relish　Luther　tallied　the　damage；　as　if　it　had　been　inflicted　by　someone　else。　All　evidence　was　ing　neatly　together　and　making　a　very　strong　case；　
　He　waffled　a　bit　at　the　end；　where　he'd　saved　the　charity　numbers。　Gifts　to　the　church；　to　the