Page 6 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

“Oh, there are dozens of reasons. Maybe a hundred. Now, tell me about your brother.”

The last couple of months of being a stranger to my brother—the one person I told everything—must have screwed me up more than I’d realized, because I did exactly as she asked. I told her about growing up in crappy foster homes, where we were treated like we were only worth the extra dollars we brought in each month, only to fall into an adult life that wasn’t much better. I didn’t cop to doing anything illegal, for obvious reasons, but I shared a lot of the truth with her nonetheless.

And she told me more about Anabelle, who was, of course, an absolute angel who was much too good for the hotelier. As I sat there listening, my gaze kept darting back to that photo. To thedetermined tilt of Anabelle’s chin and those big eyes. I decided that while she looked sweet, for certain, she also looked tough.

It was late afternoon by then, and Edith announced she was making me Christmas dinner. I didn’t say no, because I’d already decided I was going to leave in the night and never come back. Maybe it would get Jake in trouble, maybe not. But I wouldn’t steal from this woman. I couldn’t.

I understood now why he’d struggled so much with being Twin One. Getting to know the people you intended to screw over made it twice as hard. Thrice.

A couple of hours later, Edith and I ate Christmas dinner together—a real dinner, with roasted potatoes and broccoli and an honest-to-God ham. Afterward, at her insistence, we bundled up and went for a walk on Duke of Gloucester Street. It was cold, but not as cold as it would have been in New York, and the whole street was lined with glowing twinkle lights and those big red bows. Other people were milling around, singing Christmas carols and drinking hot chocolate, generally making merry. I have to say it was pleasant. The best Christmas Eve I could remember having.

I’d never had any family other than Jake. None of our blood relations had offered to take us in when we were little. No grandmothers, aunts, or uncles had come forward. Not a single one. We’d only had our various foster parents, who’d seen us as a job, and Roark, who’d seen us as a paycheck.

Edith was like the two grandmas I’d never had.

After we returned from our walk, we said goodnight to each other and she kissed me on the cheek.

“You’ll grow up just fine, Ryan,” she told me, as if I weren’t already fully grown.

I waited until two in the morning to head downstairs with my pack. The Christmas lights were still glowing in the parlor, the soft white light spilling into the hall. I wasn’t going to take theornament. But I wanted to say goodbye to the little ball of glass that was about to screw up my life.

I entered the room and approached the tree, coming to a stop a few feet away. My gaze narrowed on the red-and-white sweetgum ball. A pretty little thing, to be sure, but I didn’t think much of anyone who’d waste their money on it. Ididthink a lot of Edith, however.

Satisfied with my decision, I turned to go—and stopped cold, because Edith was standing in the doorway. She was wearing an old-fashioned dressing gown, complete with a satin hair net. Her huge glasses were perched on her nose as she watched me, making me feel like the green grump in that Dr. Seuss story.

My heart lurched, but I hadn’t been caught doing anything wrong.

“You move like a cat,” I commented.

“My bones disagree with you. Are you planning on leaving?”

I adjusted the strap of the duffel bag on my shoulder, needing something to do with my hands. “Yes.”

Her gaze still on me, she said, “You came here for the starburst ornament. I’d wondered if someone would come after that program aired. I told my fool boy he’d set me up for it.”

“You should have an alarm system,” I said.

“Would it matter? Any worthwhile thief would be able to disable it.”

“But it would make it harder.”

I took a step toward her—because the exit was that way, and I was guessing she’d prefer me to leave—and she instantly recoiled.

Something twisted in my chest. She thought I was going to hurt her. This little old woman who’d treated me like family all night thought I was going to hurt her.

It was a low moment, is what I’m saying.

“I’d never hurt you, Edith,” I said, my voice as urgent as my racing pulse. “I don’t hurt people.”

“But youdosteal from them.”

I could have lied. I wasn’t Twin One, but I had plenty of experience with lying when the situation called for it. But this day had split me open in ways I didn’t understand. Or maybe it had just deepened the wound from my brother turning his back on me.

“I work for a man who hires me to take things, yeah, and he sent me here. But I’m not going to do it. That’s why I’m leaving. I just…” I scratched my head. “I wanted to take one last look at the damn thing.”

“What will happen to you if you don’t bring it to him?” she said pointedly, her eyes taking my measure from behind her big glasses. Or maybe they weren’t. I remembered what she’d said about being nearly blind.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “He threatened my brother. But my brother wouldn’t want me to do this either. He’s better than me. Always has been.”

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