Chapter 30

“Can I help you?” the teenager alleging himself to be Harold asked.

“I want to drop off a gift for someone staying here.”

“A guest?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Would you like me to call up to their room to see if they’re there?”

He’d used all three variations in one sentence—their, they’re, and there—Mrs. Fiedler from fifth grade would have been impressed.

“No, thank you,” I said. “Just have it sent up, please.”

“Will do. Happy holidays, sir.”

“You too, Harold. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will?” Harold asked.

“To drop off another gift.”

“For someone different?” Harold was nosy.

“No,” I told him. “For the same guy…Angel Ramos.”

“Why didn’t you bring both today?”

With nothing better to do on my day off—except shopping, wrapping, cleaning, and eating—I told Harold the story.

“Wow. Cool,” he said.

“Thank you. I hope Angel thinks so. Don’t let him know you’re in on it, okay? Just send the gift up like it’s some random…package.”