“In a minute. When we’re done talking about this. Does he know you love him?”
Harriet gave a crooked smile. She didn’t bother asking how Susan had guessed. “I’m not one to hide my feelings so the answer to that is yes. But it’s not mutual.”
“If that’s true then the man doesn’t just need a scan, he needs surgery.”
“You can’t force someone to love a person.”
“Mmm.” Susan frowned. “You’ve never seen what I can achieve with a scalpel in my hand.”
Harriet winced. “Promise me you won’t say anything to him.”
“Can’t promise that.” Susan wandered into the kitchen. “Any of that delicious coffee on offer?”
Harriet made her a coffee and handed her a tin. “Chocolate chip cookie?”
“Are you sure you can spare one?” Susan took the lid off the tin. “Holy smokes. How many people are coming today? The entire population of Manhattan?”
“Just you and Glenys.”
Susan stared into the tin. “So by a rough calculation, I reckon that’s about four thousand cookies each. What happened?”
“I may have gotten a little carried away yesterday. Baking cheers me up.”
“Well, don’t apologize for that.” Susan took two cookies out of the tin. “I’m here for you. Anything you need, even if it requires me to consume my body weight in sugar.”
Harriet managed a laugh but she had no idea how. Her whole body felt heavy. She was pretending she was coping well but the truth was she felt awful. Lethargic. Sad. And it hadn’t even been forty-eight hours yet. “Tell me about you. Have you been in much pain?”
“No.” The shadows under Susan’s eyes told a different story. “They think I should be back at work mid-January. I’m starting physical therapy next week.”
Glenys arrived with Harvey, having taken a cab the few blocks from her apartment. She and Susan immediately bonded and Harvey made himself at home in Harriet’s apartment.
They swapped gifts, and Harriet served lunch and tried not to think about Ethan and what he was doing. Glenys and Susan were good company and Harriet was relieved that they were there.
“One more game of Scrabble,” she announced, a few hours later. “Festive Scrabble this time. Only words relating to the holidays are allowed. And it’s only fair to warn you about my competitive streak and my killer instinct.”
“Killer instinct? You?” Glenys glanced at Susan, who shook her head quickly.
“You go, girl.”
They were almost at the end of the game when there was a knock on the door.
“ALCOHOL is not a Christmas word.” Glenys waggled her finger. “It doesn’t count.”
“Try working in the ER on Christmas Day. Alcohol is definitely a Christmas word. It’s your turn, Harriet,” Susan said. “I’ll get the door.” She walked to the door and pulled it open while Harriet made a word out of her own letters.
“FESTIVE.” She put the letters down carefully. “And on a triple word score. Take that! You’ll never catch me now. You might as well surrender.”
Realizing that Susan wasn’t responding in her usual way—in fact she wasn’t responding at all—Harriet glanced across to the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Santa,” Susan said faintly.
“Very funny.”
“He has a gift for you.”
“If this is an elaborate trick to distract me so that you can switch my letters when I’m not looking, it’s too late. I’ve already won.” Harriet took a last look at the board before going to the door. “I assume it’s a charity thing—”
She stared at the tall, broad-shouldered Santa standing in her doorway. “Ethan? What are you—” She swallowed. “Why are you dressed as Santa?” And then she realized why, and what it meant, and her heart swelled in her chest. “You did it. You agreed to dress as Santa for the kids. Why? What changed your mind?”