Pablo stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the artificial tree with satisfaction. Then he climbed the ladder once more and checked the branches again to make sure they were properly secured. He glanced down at the string of lights lying on the stone floor and sighed. Looks like he’d be going up and down all over again.
“Can I help?” a child’s voice chirped behind him.
Emily stood at the foot of the ladder, rocking shyly from side to side.
Pablo smiled at the blonde little girl with her bright, sparkling eyes, relieved. He couldn’t have asked for a better helper. She was just tall enough to hand him the lights and hold them steady while he wrapped them around the tree. And, best of all, she certainly wouldn’t say anything stupid or ask when he was finally going to trim the hedge.
“Of course!” he said enthusiastically. “Please take the lights out of the box and hand them up to me,” he explained patiently. “And whatever I give back to you, just hold on to it nicely.”
Emily nodded proudly.
*
Ludmilla curled her lip. She let go of the curtain and placed both palms on the windowsill.
“Do you think,” she asked her husband, Israel, “that if I took a few decorations down, Pablo would put those up too? Or would he only use those hideous things he brought?”
A deep, weary sigh rose from Israel’s throat.
“We’re getting ready for Christmas, Ludmilla, for heaven’s sake,” he groaned. “Why can’t we just get through this without a word—or at least without all the snide remarks?”
Ludmilla shrugged, offended.
“I only want what’s best…” she said uncertainly. “To contribute a few tasteful ornaments to the shared tree.”
“If you really want to do something nice, then go down and help.”
“Oh, fine,” Ludmilla huffed. “All right. Be that way.”
She stepped over to the vanity, leaned forward to look at herself in the mirror, brushed her hair with a few quick strokes, pinned it up, then headed downstairs at an unhurried pace.
“And don’t you dare bother Pablo about the hedge,” her husband called after her.
“I had no intention of bothering him,” Ludmilla snapped back.
Then, barely audible, she added,
“I just wanted to ask…”
*
María José counted the differently colored foam rings threaded onto a string once again. Although she had originally planned to put them on the tree by herself in the evening, she had to abandon the idea. She couldn’t sneak the other decorations off—that would be downright mean to the others. And she especially didn’t want to mess with the children. Pablo’s idea for the tree was too good to mess up.
She didn’t actually want to decorate together—she wanted to beat the others to it. Grabbing the bowl, she hurried toward the tree, where Pablo was wrapping the lights with Emily’s help.
“I’m coming too,” she puffed excitedly.
Pablo forced a smile. María José and Carlos were the least unbearable people in the complex. Maybe because they were Canary Islanders too and understood that good work takes time. A lot of time. Even so, he couldn’t quite bring himself to be happy to see her—especially since Perla, the little dog, was trotting after her with wild enthusiasm.
*
“Well, this will be great if the dog pees on that tree several times a day,” Dajana muttered sarcastically.
She tightened her grip on her coffee mug, as if trying to warm her hands.
Adrian pulled the blanket higher around himself.
“What are you spying on?” his voice came muffled from under the duvet.
“I’m not spying. I’m keeping an eye on developments.”
“Then why don’t you go down there if you’re so interested?”
Dajana tilted her head thoughtfully.
“Hm… not a bad idea.”
With the mug in her hand, she headed out of the bedroom. She had no intention of helping—but she did want to make sure María José didn’t start pocketing the decorations.
*
“Shall we go decorate?” Bernard asked.
There was no answer. Noud lay silently on the bed, his body tense. Bernard sighed.
“I thought we were past the Viktoria business…”
“We were,” Noud muttered. “Then they broke down Ted’s door and the ambulance took him away,” he listed wearily. “And now we have no fucking idea what he might say.”
Bernard shrugged nervously.
“What would he say? He wasn’t even conscious.”
Noud sat up. His eyes shot daggers at Bernard’s back.
“You can’t be a hundred percent sure there wasn’t a single lucid moment when, say, he recognized someone.”
Bernard leaned his forehead against the window, troubled.
“Then could we just focus on the present for now?” he asked quietly. “Let’s pretend everything’s fine until it’s proven otherwise. Besides…” he suddenly brightened. “Ludmilla and María José have both shown up at the tree. Want to bet which one of them pockets more decorations?”