A Carol Christmas Read Online Free Page B

hadn’t I thought of that?
    I checked out the other occupants of the waiting area. A few chairs down, a woman sat trying to quiet a fussy baby. I hated to assume the man next to her reading the paper was her husband, but he probably was.
    A guy about my age sat slumped in the row of chairs across from us. He wore glasses and was overweight. Or maybe it was the heavy jacket and the sweats that made him look big. He wore a muffler around his neck, even though it was plenty warm inside, and he was sniffling like he had a cold. I guessed he had no medical insurance, which would explain why he was hanging around the emergency room. He eyed Keira for a long time until she finally glared at him. Then he opted for watching his toes.
    These were our companions in misery. I sighed. What would I be doing right now if I was still in New York? Having dinner at Sardi’s? Seeing a Broadway play? Who was I kidding? I’d be in bed by now, snoring with a half-digested mystery lying across my chest.
    “So,” Aunt Chloe asked me. “Have you met anyone special in New York yet?”
    Oh, great. The third degree on my love life was starting already. Why do people always have to pump you to see if you’ve found anyone? It’s as if there’s nothing more to life than men.
    Not that I had no men in my life. I’d had dates, just not with anyone I felt a connection with.
    Mom jumped in to explain my manless state. “Andie’s busy with her career. She doesn’t have time for men. She could barely schedule in a trip home for Christmas.”
    “A woman can always find time for men,” put in Keira. “New York’s a huge city. There’s got to be tons of available guys there.” Underlying message:
So what was taking you so long?
    Okay, so I’m picky. There’s nothing wrong with that. “I’ve met a few people,” I said.
    “Anyone rich?” Aunt Chloe wanted to know.
    “If they are, they haven’t told me yet,” I said.
    “So, are you Internet dating?” Keira asked. “Hitting the bars?”
    “Of course she’s not,” Aunt Chloe said. “She’ll probably meet her dream man in an art museum.”
    “I bet you can find a lot of cute guys to get close to on the subway,” Keira mused.
    Oh, yeah, sure. The subway is one big speed-dating sardine can. “Be my guest,” I said.
    “I’ve already got mine,” she said back.
    “Lots of creative people in New York,” Aunt Chloe observed. “Of course, it’s so big, so impersonal, so far from your family. You must get lonesome.”
    “Lonesome,” I repeated, and nodded. I tried not to wonder what my friends were doing right now.
    I picked up a worn copy of
People
to distract myself and started thumbing through it. I was just starting a juicy tidbit on Ryan Reynolds when a middle-aged man with silver hair, a worn pea coat, tattered jeans, and dirty tennis shoes sat down next to me.
    “Home for Christmas,” he muttered.
    It almost sounded like a question, but not quite. Because I couldn’t tell if he was telling me his story or asking mine, I just nodded politely.
    “Hate coming home for Christmas.” He hacked out a nasty cough, the kind that gives you images of yourself keeling over from SARS or Bubonic plague or that flesh-eating disease.
    I gave him another nod, from one sufferer to another, and leaned away from him, hoping the germs would float the opposite direction.
    “Things got broken,” he said in a gravelly voice.
    I thought of the living room window.
    On the other side of me, Aunt Chloe was getting protective and giving him a scowl that looked about as threatening as something from the Pillsbury Dough Boy.
    The man didn’t see. He was too busy making eye contact with me. He had the most intense blue eyes I had ever seen. “Got to mend them, you know,” he said. “If you don’t pull down the walls you can’t build something better.” The expression in those eyes was suddenly probing. I felt the hair at the back of my neck start doing the wave. What kind of woo-woo thing was