“Thank you, Richard. Would you have Kenneth take a look at Ms. Fuller’s car? If he can’t fix it, please have it serviced and then delivered to her home.” He handed Abbey his cell phone through the open window. “Text your address to Richard, and he’ll get your car fixed for you.” He opened the door of the Mercedes and set Max’s ratty booster in the backseat. “In the meantime, I’ll drive you to get Max.” He motioned for her to leave her car and get in.
As she slid into the car, she expected the leather interior to be cold from the winter weather but the seats were soft and warm. She tried to keep her feet in one place so as not to dirty the floorboards as she looked around the car. It was a convertible. What would it be like in the summer when he put the top down? She could only imagine the heat of the beating sun on her face, the wind in her hair. Her gaze slid to the console. There were so many buttons that she didn’t know if she was in a car or an airplane. Nick got into the other side and the car came to life, a screen lighting up in the center. She’d never been in anything like this before.
“You were going to take Max to see Santa…”
“Yes,” she said, trying to focus on his face and not the millions of shiny buttons all around him. “I’ll just have to explain to him what happened.”
“He’ll be disappointed?”
“Probably. He was really looking forward to giving Santa Claus his Christmas list. But as soon as my car’s working again I can take him.”
“I’ll drive you and Max to see Santa.”
“Oh, you don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to, but I will. I’d already planned on it after you wouldn’t take the Ferrari. That’s why I put Max’s booster seat in the back.” He threw his thumb up in the direction of the backseat and Abbey turned to look at it. Max’s shabby plastic seat, its center fabric spotted from spills and dirt, sat on the plush leather, and she had to fight the urge to brush the crumbs off the top of it.
Nick put the car in drive, the engine purring.
“I’m sure you have better things to do,” she said, knowing that she’d already kept him from his work earlier by insisting he see the decorated rooms.
He glanced over at her, a grin on his face. Perhaps he’d enjoyed their time together today.
“So you want to take us?”
“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have put the seat in the back. I was serious when I said it the first time.”
“Okay,” she said, still not convinced.
As they drove, and she started to get used to the comfort of the Mercedes, it dawned on her that, if they were getting Max, Nick was going to have to go into her apartment. He would meet her mother who was watching Max. She knew her mom would probably want to freshen up, and tidy the apartment, but she didn’t know how to warn them.
“Which way?” Nick asked as they came to a four-way stop.
“Straight. …I’m just going to text my mother and let her know she needs to have Max ready. Maybe she can even send him out, so we won’t have to get out of the warm car. Let me just make sure Max has his Christmas outfit on…” She pulled out her phone and quickly texted: Nick Sinclair is on his way over to my apartment! I’m with him! You have five minutes. Put Max in his red sweater and make everything look awesome! I owe you!
Her phone lit up in her hand moments later. WHAT?! HE’S COMING HERE! I CAN’T… Abbey quickly swiped the message away so that Nick couldn’t see it and dropped it into her handbag.
As Abbey directed Nick to her apartment, she was thinking about the impression she’d be making. She thought about her tiny Christmas tree, the red felt stockings she’d made with Max, their names in wobbly glitter across the tops. She wondered if her bed was made. Had the dishes been done? Had she left that little pile of dirty clothes in the corner of her bathroom?
They pulled up to her apartment and parked. “I’ll just text Mom and see if she can send Max out.” She pulled her phone from her handbag.
She typed very quickly: Mom, send Max out.
Only a moment later her phone immediately lit up: I can’t find his red sweater. I texted that to you but didn’t hear back.
She wracked her brain for any idea as to where that red sweater was. She texted back: Is it on the dryer?
Her mom: No.
Abbey: How about in his third dresser drawer?
Nick looked over at her. “What’s the problem?”
“My mom can’t find Max’s sweater.”
“So why don’t we go in and help her?”
Abbey bit her lip as she scrambled for a response.