Page 64 of Single Dad's Christmas Cookie

“We’re trying to find a friend. I don’t have her apartment number. Wanted to give her a Christmas present.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Yeah, I don’t know anyone named Nova. If she’s really your friend, why don’t you call her?” He shrugged and walked away.

“That would spoil the surprise?” Amelia called out after him.

“I think we might have to give her a call,” I said.

“But we have to surprise her,” Amelia insisted.

“Maybe we could look for her car?” I suggested.

“Her car is broken, remember?” Amelia reminded me.

“You’re right.” I said. “That’s going to make it easier. She’s got my old pickup truck.”

That truck was distinct in its gruff, old way. If it were a person, he’d be in overalls and have a face lined with age and spending too much time in the sun. It was dependable and had seen better days, even before it had come into my possession. It was not some generic car that looked like every other car that surrounded us in the parking lot.

“Come on. Let’s go.” I began walking with brisk steps, scanning the parking lot we were in as I returned to the SUV.

I let Amelia sit in the front passenger seat as I drove slowly through first one lot and then another. Spotting my pickup, I parked as close as I could. There were fewer buildings next to this lot, so our chances of finding Nova were looking better.

“Do you remember if Nova said she lives on the first floor or the second floor?” I asked Amelia as we approached the first set of four apartments on the open stairwell of one of the buildings.

I couldn’t remember Nova saying anything about where she lived other than what she told me the evening I hired her. She had been promised a place to live by the Wentworth Academy,but they had changed their story when she arrived. Instead of having a place for her, they were giving her a living allowance, but it wasn’t even enough to cover rent in the smallest of apartments she could find. She needed a job, even for a few weeks, to make up the difference in paying for her rent.

Why wasn’t the school paying its teachers enough so they could afford rent? I needed to have a little chat with the headmaster at Amelia’s school to make sure they were not putting any of their educators in a situation like that. I was paying top dollar for Amelia’s education. I expected her teachers were being taken care of. Then again, there was a reason she was at Leeds and not Wentworth.

Amelia began singing about being trapped on a dark desert highway. She had the tune perfectly, but her words were a little off, just like with the other song. Again, probably not the best song to teach a six-year-old. With pitch like hers, I should get her into music lessons soon.

“Would you like to play the piano, or maybe the guitar like me?” I asked as we approached the first apartment door.

I knocked.

“Grandmother said she wants me to learn the Jello,” Amelia said as the door opened.

“Okay? What? What do you want?” The person answering looked disheveled and barely awake. “You want Jello?”

“Sorry to disturb you this Christmas morning. We were hoping you might know where Nova lives?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You want Jello for a nova? No, just no.” The door slammed shut.

I looked down at Amelia. “This isn’t going very well, is it? Are you sure we shouldn’t call Nova? And your grandmother means cello. It’s like a giant violin. I’ll speak to her about that.”

Amelia, undaunted by our task, ran up to the next door and knocked. A couple came down the stairs as we waited.

“Do you know Nova?” Amelia asked.

“You’re so cute!” The woman said. “Nova, like the space clouds?”

“No, not space. Nova,” Amelia corrected her with some frustration.

“She’s a first grade teacher. She’s got long, golden hair,” I cut in.

“Sorry, no one upstairs like that,” the woman said.

“Do you know about those two apartments?” I pointed to the two doors we hadn’t tried yet.

“Sorry, no. Good luck finding your friend. Merry Christmas.”

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