The Slipper by Jennifer Wilde Page B

shopping bag. Doug took it and began to arrange the presents under the tree.
    â€œThoughtful of you to remember her.”
    â€œThey’re from my roommate as well. Wish Julie a Merry Christmas for me. I mustn’t keep you.”
    Hammond placed the last present under the tree and set the empty bag aside, folding his arms across his chest again, biceps flexing.
    â€œRelax,” he said. “Julie would be crushed if she missed you. We get very few visitors in our humble abode. I won’t bite,” he added.
    You’d like to, she thought. “Julie tells me you’re going to be a lawyer,” she said. “She says you’re at the top of your class.”
    He nodded. “A man has to maintain his standards. It’s rough, but I don’t mind the hard work.”
    â€œYou’re on a scholarship, aren’t you?”
    â€œJust partial—tuition and fees, no stipend for living expenses. We’ve got to scrape for that.”
    Julie has to scrape for it, you mean. A key rattled in the lock. Hammond cocked his head. The front door opened and Julie stumbled in, clutching a huge brown paper bag full of groceries. She was wearing her old brown coat, a scarf over her hair. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and the exertion of carrying so heavy a bag. She shifted it around in her arms and shoved the door shut with her foot. Hammond made no effort to assist her. Carol was incensed. Julie sighed and turned and saw Carol, and her violet-blue eyes filled with surprise.
    â€œCarol! I—I didn’t know—”
    â€œI just came by to wish you a Merry Christmas,” Carol said kindly. “Let me help you with those grocer—”
    â€œI—I’ll just put them in the kitchen—” Julie was flustered. “I had to work until ten last night and there’s been no time to buy groceries until today and the store closes at—”
    â€œYou’re babbling,” Doug said. “Put the groceries away.”
    Julie nodded and scurried into the kitchen. Carol heard her moving around nervously, opening and closing the refrigerator door, and then she came back in and pulled off her coat and scarf and smiled her shy smile. She was wearing an old cotton print dress with puffed sleeves that made her look about twelve. Carol noticed that her brown shoes were badly worn, her thick white socks frayed, and she felt her heart might break. She wanted to fold this child in her arms, protect her, comfort her. Julie brushed a wisp of silver-brown hair from her temple and sighed, relaxing at last.
    â€œIt was so kind of you to stop by,” she said. “I bought a little present for you, and—it’s not much, but I thought of you when I found it and I intended to bring it over to the dorm later on this after—”
    â€œWhy don’t you make our guest some coffee,” Doug interrupted. “Iced tea might be more appropriate—it’s so bloody hot in here.”
    â€œI ran into Mr. Jensen as I was leaving, Doug. He promised the radiators would be working properly by evening. We’re always having trouble with them,” she explained to Carol. “Would you like some coffee?”
    â€œNo. Please. I can’t stay. I just wanted to bring your presents. They’re from Nora, too.”
    Julie looked surprised, then confused, and when she spied the beautifully wrapped presents under the tree her eyes grew wide.
    â€œYou—you shouldn’t have, Carol. You and Nora. I wasn’t able to get you anything much, just—I sent a present to Nora in Brooklyn, she gave me her address, and—” Julie darted over to the tree and picked up one of the clumsily wrapped presents, handing it to Carol. “Here,” she said. “I hope you aren’t disappointed.”
    Carol could tell from the size and weight that it was a book. “Thank you, Julie,” she said.
    â€œWould—would you like to open it