At the kitchen table, Alistair sits by me, his knee almost touching mine under the table. Sweat stands on his face, and his cheeks are pink from exertion.
It was quite an adventure trying to get that tree into the house. We nearly gave up, but finally managed it. My hands smell like pine. There’s pine needles everywhere. I look around the presbytery kitchen. I’ve never been in here before. Eberhart’s domain. It’s nice. The walls are covered with china plates and the furniture and cabinets are all golden wood and beautifully polished. “Eberhart’s gonna flip her lid,” I say. “We’re gonna have to clean up before she comes back.”
Alistair is picking dirt out of his pants. “Oh, she’s with her friend for the holidays.” He drops a few needles on the table. “I don’t even know where the decoratio
