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the boxes again.
    â€œI can’t even get my baby toxic waste for Christmas.”
    Trudy heard her sob. “Okay, step away from the gin. You’re getting sloppy drunk in front of your kid. Do something proactive. Wrap some presents. Ice your gingerbread.”
    â€œI’m out of Christmas paper. And I tried to ice those little bastard gingerbread men, but their arms kept breaking off.”
    â€œWere you twisting them?”
    Above Trudy’s head, the ancient speakers blared Madonna singing in baby talk again.
    â€œSing ‘The Little Drummer Boy,’” Trudy said to the speakers. “Anything but ‘Santa Baby.’ God, Madonna is annoying.”
    â€œShe’s a good mother,” Courtney said. “I’m a terrible mother. ”
    â€œNo, you just have terrible taste in husbands and nannies.”
    â€œI wasn’t the one who picked out the nanny,” Courtney said, her voice rising.
    â€œRight.” Trudy moved up another step. “Sorry. She came highly recommended.” I’m pretty sure yours is the first husband she ran off with.
    â€œI wasn’t the one who brought home the husband, either,” Courtney cried.
    â€œOkay,” Trudy said, tempted to fight back on that one.
    â€œI’m being punished, aren’t I?” Courtney said. “I stole my sister’s boyfriend—”
    â€œTen years ago,” Trudy said. “I’m over it. I was over it before you stole him. You’re not being punished. I didn’t want him, which I told you at the time. He’s a jerk, I have an affinity for jerks—”
    â€œHey,” Nolan said.
    â€œâ€”and you’re better off without him.”
    â€œBut not without the MacGuffin!”
    â€œI’m working on that.” Trudy looked around the last toy store in town. How the hell am I going to get this year’s MacGuffin? “I’ll get it, Court.”
    â€œAnd two toxic wastes,” Courtney said, gulping.
    â€œTwo toxic wastes. Got it.” Maybe if she just stuck the toxic-waste packets in the MacGuffin box, Leroy wouldn’t notice the doll didn’t actually spit it.
    â€œAnd wrapping paper,” Courtney said, sounding less frantic.
    â€œRight.” Trudy grabbed a package of red-and-white paper off the rack that came before the checkout counter and snagged a roll of Scotch tape while she was at it. “Got it. I gotta go. Go do something besides drink.”
    â€œThis year’s MacGuffin,” Courtney said.
    â€œYour gingerbread is burning,” Trudy said, and clicked off the phone.
    â€œTrouble at home?” Nolan said, sounding sympathetic.
    â€œAbsolutely not. Everything is fine. ”
    He reached past her, nudging her gently with his shoulder as he pulled two bright green foil packages off the counter rack. “You’ll need these.”
    He dropped them on top of the MacGuffin box and she saw the words Toxic Waste! emblazoned on them in neon red.
    â€œThank you,” she said, and then the woman in the bobble cap picked up her bags and left and Trudy dumped everything onto the counter.
    The cashier looked at the MacGuffin box with something approaching awe. “Where’d you find this?”
    â€œOn a shelf behind some other boxes,” Trudy said for what she sincerely hoped was the last time.
    â€œMan, did you ever get lucky,” the cashier said, and began to ring it up.
    â€œThat’s me,” Trudy said, trying to forget that Nolan was about to leave her again, that the wrong MacGuffin was in front of her, and that Madonna was still lisping about greed overhead. “Nothing but luck, twenty-four-seven.”
    â€œA thousand,” Nolan said from behind her when she’d handed over her credit card and seen the MacGuffin go in one shopping bag and the Twinkletoes in another. “Come on; that’s a damn good offer.”
    â€œNo,” Trudy said, picked up her bags, and