‘We have that gallery opening to go to tonight.’ A sodden lump grew in Jack’s stomach as he finished his dinner mechanically. He had begun to dr...ad this evening when Paige first told him of it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like art, he did. It fascinated him how a good artist could transmit any of a whole range of emotions with ink or clay or paint. It wasn’t that he didn’t like galleries, either. He and Paige had met in an art gallery – The Met, in fact. No… the fact was, he was dreading this. I hope none of the kids noticed my half-stiff candy cane in my pants as they told me about Barbie dolls and fire trucks. At ten o’clock, the old helpers told me good night and headed for the door. I went into the little lounge to gather my things. I was about to give up ten minutes later when Rachel came in. ‘Sorry I’m late, Santa. I had to go out and pretend I forgot my purse because Mrs. Shattuck walked out with me.’ As she was saying this, she came up and tried to hug me. She was about five. More

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