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  The Sisters looked at each other, their eyes reflecting the questions they had as they tried to figure out what it all meant.

  Yoko closed her eyes and sighed. “Does the president think we’re mind readers? If she wants our help, why doesn’t she just come out and ask for it? Why all this subterfuge?”

  “It’s politics,” Annie said, “but I agree with you, Yoko. Let’s not forget those gold shields. They factor in here somehow. Maybe she thinks we should just take matters into our own hands and do whatever it is she wants. Because we’re mind readers.”

  “Maybe her hands are tied, and she doesn’t want anything bouncing back on her or the administration. Perhaps hints are all she can give us, and she has enough faith in us to trust we’ll figure it out,” Myra said.

  “Well, that sucks,” Kathryn said. “Listen, I’m tired, so I’m going home. What time do you want us back here tomorrow, Yoko?”

  “Nine o’clock will be good. But whatever works for you will work for me.”

  The Sisters gathered up the leftover food and paper plates. Maggie folded the roll of felt and put it back where she’d found it.

  “I might be a little late. I’m going to stop at the paper to get Ted up to speed and get this show on the road.”

  When the nursery was empty, Yoko locked up and prepared to go to bed. Harry wouldn’t even notice that she didn’t return to the dojo. Jack and Bert would notice, but not Harry. She felt sad, but she understood her husband’s passion. She looked around at the fragrant wreaths, blankets, and the Christmas trees, and did a quick calculation as to what they would fetch. If she, with the help of the Sisters, tripled their output and sold everything, she just might clear enough money to pay the tribunal. Well, that wasn’t quite right. Harry had already paid for the first master, and while Jack and Bert had run off the second group demanding payment, Yoko knew they would have to pay it somehow, someway. She felt her insides start to crumble. Harry was so stubborn.

  Yoko trudged back into her office, unrolled a sleep mat, spread a blanket. She curled into the fetal position and closed her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Maggie Spritzer hated walking into the Post on a Saturday. It was too quiet, almost ghostly. The skeleton crew merely nodded as she passed them on the way to her office. She knew there would be no coffee or donuts in the kitchen. Unless Ted or Espinosa picked up some donuts, she would have to settle for coffee, which she would have to make herself.

  She marched down the hall to the kitchen and prepared the coffeepot. She childishly crossed her fingers that Ted would bring a delectable box of Krispy Kremes. If not, she’d send him right back out.

  Back in her office, Maggie booted up her computer and waited for her e-mail to pop up. Ahhhh, an e-mail from Gus Sullivan. Maggie felt light-headed as she clicked the button that would let her read the message. She wanted to cry when she saw the one-word message: HI! She was beyond disappointed at the message. Without hesitation, she typed a two-word reply: Hi, yourself! She pressed SEND, then turned off her e-mail just as she heard the elevator ping, hopefully bringing Ted and Espinosa.

  Maggie beelined for the kitchen when she saw both reporters, Ted holding up a large box of Krispy Kremes. “Jelly, chocolate frosted, butter cream frosting, eclairs and cream puffs, custard filling in both. Whooeee!” Ted said as he ripped open the box while Maggie poured the coffee.

  “This is sooo good. Thanks, Ted. I really needed these donuts this morning. So, tell me, did you do anything on Jason Parker? And if you didn’t, it’s okay, what with Thanksgiving and everything, but I need you two to get on something else, too. I want everything you can get on Adam Daniels, Barney Gray, Henry Maris, and Matthew Logan, and I want it all as soon as possible. I don’t care how you get the information, who you have to bribe, or what you have to promise, just get it.

  “My gut is telling me there is a common denominator here. Find it. It might be a thing, a situation, an event, a person. I want you to dig all the way to hell and back. Like I said, find it. If possible, I want a bona fide reason why the NSA wasn’t represented at Camp David over Thanksgiving. Work around the clock, get me what I want and need, and a very nice bonus will be in your next paychecks.”

  “What’s going on, Maggie?” Ted asked.

  “I wish I knew, but the fact of the matter is that I don’t.” She quickly gave Ted and Espinosa a rundown on her short visit to Camp David. “It’s not computing, Ted. Off the top of your head, does anything strike you as . . . odd?”

  “Hell, yes, the whole damn thing. For starters, I think it was something that came up not exactly at the last minute, but damn close to the last minute. Connor probably thought there would be less scrutiny at Camp David than the White House. Then you said the media were as much in the dark as you were. Ted Robinson’s rule number two, ‘Nothing is what it seems.’ Which means Ted Robinson’s rule number three is, ‘Dig all the way to China for the answer. ’ We’re on it. Where are you going to be?”

  “At Yoko’s nursery again. The Sisters are all going to continue helping her get her stock ready for Christmas. I stopped by last evening, just as they were finishing up. I promised to be there by nine.”

  “Espinosa and I can tag along and help if you don’t need this ASAP.”

  Maggie thought about it. “No, there are eight of us, so we should be able to get a lot done. You guys do what I said. If it gets dicey out at the nursery, and we’re running behind, I’ll call you. Thanks for the donuts. Check in, okay?”

  Ted stared at his boss, wondering what was really going on. He couldn’t remember the last time she had been this considerate. Well, this was a new Maggie, so the best thing he could do was follow orders. The phrase very nice bonus was what he needed to concentrate on. Maybe if he played his cards right, shopped for bargains, he could hit the islands with that cute newbie redhead in advertising. Ted whistled all the way down the hall to where he would start pulling what he needed from the archives.

  Maggie walked back to her office for her outer gear. She stared hard at her computer, then fought with herself not to open up her e-mail to see if Gus Sullivan had e-mailed her again. Nikki’s cautionary words rang in her ears: Take it slow and easy. She grimaced as she contemplated ignoring her friend’s advice. Well, the world wouldn’t come to an end if she ignored the advice, and the world wouldn’t come to an end if she did nothing and just headed out to the nursery.

  To prove that she had willpower, Maggie left her personal cell phone on her desk and just took the special phone Charles had given to her, along with the Post cell, so Ted could get in touch with her. She turned off the lights, locked her door, and didn’t look back. Outside in the newsroom, she called out to Ted and Espinosa as she planted her thumb on the DOWN button for the elevator.

  It was a gray day, with a hint of snow. Gray days were depressing days. But only if she allowed the day to depress her. She perked up momentarily as she walked to the curb to wait for a taxi. She could make her own Christmas wreath to hang on the front door of her house, and she could even pick out her Christmas tree and take it home with her tonight. Maybe she could entice Ted and Espinosa to set it up for her. She loved the thought that her house would be permeated with the scent of balsam. Maybe she would string the lights on the tree herself. Maybe she’d even have a Christmas party, and she could invite Gus Sullivan. Her spirits kicked up even more, so much so that when she stepped out of the taxi, she was in a really good mood.

  Yoko hugged Maggie. Maggie squeezed back hard.

  “I know I’m early, but I wanted to make my own wreath once you show me how to do it. I might like one to hang over my fireplace, too. And, of course, I need to pick out a tree, a big one. I hope I am your first customer.”

  “You are my first customer. I know just the tree for your house. We need to put a tag on it and mark it SOLD. Oh, Maggie, I so hope this works.”

  Maggie whirled around at the anguish in Yoko’s voice. She cupped her friend’s tiny face in both her hands. “It will work
, Yoko. Shame on you for thinking otherwise, but listen, you need to play some Christmas music when the nursery opens for business. You know, put people in the mood.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea. What would I do without all of you?”

  Maggie laughed. “I think we all ask ourselves that from time to time. I don’t think any of us should worry about it, since we’re always there for each other. Now, show me the tree that is going to grace my family room.”

  “Follow me.”

  Chapter 15

  Days later, Annie looked at Fergus across the breakfast table. She knew she had a sappy expression on her face, but then, so did he. She wondered if fate would somehow throw a monkey wrench into her newfound happiness.

  Don’t go there, Annie, she cautioned herself. Don’t make yourself your own worst enemy. You have something good, really good, going on here. Try for once to enjoy it, and stop worrying about tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, because those days may never come. She took her own advice and smiled.

  Fergus smiled back.

  “You sure you’ll be all right here by yourself today?” Annie asked.

  “Of course. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. With that honey-to-do list, I’ll probably still be working when you get back. Just in case you’re running late, do you want me to start dinner?”

  Annie almost swooned. “I would dearly love that, Fergus.”

  “Consider it done, then. Let me make sure I have all this straight in my head,” he said, peering down at an actual list that Annie had written out. It had tickled him to no end when he read his honey-to-do list: “Set up Christmas tree. String lights on Christmas tree. Do not decorate till I get back. Hang wreath on front door. Hang wreath over fireplace in the kitchen. Attach the balsam swags to the mantel. Wash the towels. Empty the dishwasher. And, of course, prepare dinner.” Then he asked, with a chuckle in his voice, “Did I get it all right?”

  “You did. It sounds like a lot, doesn’t it? If you think I’m taking advantage of you, tell me now. I can ask Isabelle to find someone to do it for me.”

  “Absolutely you are not taking advantage of me, dear lady. For more years than I care to remember, I longed to do these things over the holidays, but I always worked after my wife died so the younger men could be home with their families. I will get great pleasure doing this, and I can’t tell you how I look forward to spending Christmas with you and all your friends.”

  Annie beamed from ear to ear. She’d hit the jackpot, no doubt about it. Fergus Duffy was one of a kind. “Okay, then. I’m going to pick up Myra. We’re meeting the girls at Nikki’s office. Then we’re . . . Well, we have business to take care of.”

  Fergus’s eyes twinkled. “And that business is not my business is what you’re saying. Is that right?”

  “That’s right, Fergus. Just like your little meeting with the president wasn’t my business. Imagine what we could do if we pooled our information. No, no, too late. You had your chance. Trust me, the girls and I will ferret it out, at which time you might wish you had confided in me. You think about that while I’m gone, my Scottish friend. See ya when I see you,” Annie said as she slipped into her coat and left by the kitchen door.

  She was smiling from ear to ear as she climbed into her warm car, thanks to Fergus’s turning on the engine and the heater earlier. There was a lot to be said for consideration. She was still smiling when she barreled through Myra’s electronic gates, which opened the moment she was a hundred feet away.

  Myra was waiting on the steps of the back porch. She was dressed like a lumberjack, in a red and black plaid jacket, corduroy trousers, and stout walking boots. “We already have our Christmas trees, Myra. Or are you planning on chopping down some trees for fireplace wood?” Annie giggled.

  “Go ahead and laugh at me, Annie. I don’t really care. It’s twelve degrees outside. This is the Christmas season, when all those nasty flu and cold germs abound. I do not want to get chilled. You look . . . bundled up yourself.”

  “I’m layered. Lord, Myra, I don’t know what to think about all of this. Do we have a mission or not? What is it the president is counting on us to do? No one has a clue. And here we are going to see Maggie’s . . . ah . . . snitch. I wish I knew what our game plan was. Or if we even have a game plan, which I don’t think we do. We talked it to death the past three days at the nursery, but not one of us came up with anything that makes sense.”

  “I know, dear, it is perplexing. Nikki seems to think that visiting Mr. Tookus will help us. We do have names. We just have to find out what they mean. Like Maggie said, there has to be a common denominator somewhere. Isn’t it wonderful that Maggie has fallen in love? I’ve never seen her so happy.”

  “Yes, it is. Myra, did you think Yoko looked . . . under the weather? I know she’s under a lot of stress with the nursery and Harry’s training and all that money they lost to those awful people Harry hired to train him. I hope we alleviated some of that stress by helping out these past three days. This week, she has some college kids from Georgetown helping out after class. To me Yoko just looked . . . Remember how our mothers used to say we looked peaked when we were coming down with something or other? Usually a good bellyache. To me, Yoko looked peaked.”

  “I do remember, and yes, I agree the little dear looked peaked, but I think it’s something else entirely. I can’t be sure about this, Annie, but I think our little lotus flower is pregnant. When I was in the storage room yesterday morning, getting those balls of wire, I heard her in the restroom, and she was throwing up. I didn’t let on I was even in the storage room and left after she did. She was also nibbling on saltine crackers most of the morning. One only does that when one is pregnant. I know this for a fact, and not only because Lizzie told me about her own case of morning sickness.”

  “But . . . why didn’t she tell us?” Annie asked fretfully.

  “I don’t know, Annie. Maybe she wants to be sure. She’s probably scared to death that she might have another miscarriage, and she might think that by talking about it, she’ll jinx herself. I’m just guessing here, Annie.”

  “Well, it all makes sense. What can we do for her, Myra?”

  “Nothing, Annie. When she needs us, I am sure she won’t have any trouble asking for our help or our support. She does need more help at the nursery. The college students, according to Yoko, work a few hours here or there, between classes or after class. At best it’s iffy. Plus, most of them will be leaving to go to their homes for the holiday break just when her business will need them the most. If there’s a way for you to find some people and pay them on the side without offending her, that might take off some of the pressure. Maybe some youth group from one of the churches. We could make a secret donation, something along those lines.”

  “I can do that. I’ll get on it as soon as I get back home. You are a fearless leader, Myra, and the best part is you aren’t tugging on those damn pearls. By the way, when do you get them back?”

  “The jeweler said this coming Friday. I miss them. Stainless-steel chains don’t work for me, and I don’t care if they are in fashion or not. A person could choke on those horrible things, and they clank, Annie. Fashion or not, those chains are for young, hip people. Pearls are for people like me.”

  The rest of the conversation into Georgetown was about the weather and whether or not they would have a white Christmas. Annie even proposed having a pool on when any of the Sisters would first hear Bing Crosby’s version of “White Christmas” on the radio.

  Just as they were pulling into the parking lot at Nikki’s law firm, Myra reared back and said, “Annie, I have an idea. Charles told me last week that the head of security at my candy company is retiring at the end of January. We’re going to have to find someone to replace Mr. Unger. Do you think Fergus might like the job? It’s not a demanding one, and he can delegate and make his own hours. The pay is good, with a year-end bonus plus really good benefits. I’m not sure how that would work legally since Fergus isn’t a U.S. citizen,
but I’m sure Charles would know. Or,” she said slyly, “you could marry him and stop living in sin.”

  “You mean like you did with Charles?” Annie quipped.

  “Exactly!” Myra laughed.

  “It would solve a lot of problems. I’ll think about it. Fergus is kind of touchy about finances.”

  “Feels like snow again,” Myra said, stepping out of the car. “Good thing this lot was plowed, or we’d be knee-deep in the white stuff.” She looked around. “Looks like all the girls are here, and we’re the last to arrive.”

  Inside, where it was warm and toasty, the Sisters were waiting in the lobby, their coats over their arms. Conversation consisted, again, of the snow this early in the year and the traffic snarls everywhere.

  “Two cars,” Nikki said. “Maggie gave me directions, and just so you know, she is not at all keen on our talking to Abner. I want that clear right up front. She’s okay with it, but she is feeling guilty, which is understandable. She also asked that we not . . . not come down too heavy on Abner. Just so you all know, I did not promise anything where Mr. Tookus is concerned. If you’re all ready, we should leave before Abner gets his day under way. I’ll take the lead. Follow me, but here is a set of directions in case we get separated. Kathryn will drive the second car.” She handed Kathryn the routing instructions and wrapped herself in her long white cashmere coat.

  Annie felt excitement ringing in her ears as she held the door for the others. She sniffed at the huge evergreen wreath with its gigantic red bow hanging on the door. “And the Christmas season is upon us,” she muttered to no one in particular.

  Forty-five minutes later, with a light tap to her horn, Nikki slowed and pulled into a scraggly parking area that was barely plowed of snow. Kathryn parked alongside of her.

  “Abner Tookus lives here, in a warehouse?” Alexis said.

  “Well, dear, it’s my understanding that Mr. Tookus owns the warehouse. And the warehouse next door. According to Maggie, he’s become a real-estate mogul,” Myra said. “She also said we shouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t answer the buzzer.”