positioning after that to capture the fullness of the tree, the right collection of ornaments, the right amount of light. I was wearing a choker of red beads with a silver-backed jade clasp resting on my collarbone, matching red beads dangling from my ears. Neither the necklace nor the earrings were particularly valuable, save for the jade in the clasp. We’d purchased it from a Native shop and paid a high price for it, along with the cuff I wore. I took pains in my stance to keep my hands clasped loosely in front of me, the largest stone of my bracelet on full display. I meant to keep my face frozen against the light and heat of the flash, but Haley spoke some direction.
“A softer expression, maybe? Sweeter? Imagine you’re one of the angels smiling down on the holy infant.”
I tried to comply, thinking of women I’d seen in magazine advertisements gazing softly at the babe in their arms. I had no aspirations of experiencing such a thing, but I tried my best, and soon the air was full of the familiar smell of exploded light, and my eyes burned as the spark faded.
“It might be a week or more before I’ll have it printed,” Haley told me as he slid the plate from his camera and handed it gingerly to his assistant. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to add some tint.”
I didn’t mind. My late husband and I had delayed too long getting a proper portrait painted, so my image had never been captured in color.
And so I waited, lifting champagne toasts to the New Year, biding my time as the needles fell from the tree until it was finally stripped and hauled away the day after Epiphany. I was watching the entire process from the second-floor balcony and noticed the top of Haley’s head the moment he stepped in from the street. With a squeal befitting a child receiving a gift, I raced down the stairs and met him at the desk. Only later would I mark how he watched my approach with both sadness and trepidation.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, dragging up some vestige of coquettishness. “A late Christmas present for me?”
“Yes,” he said, refusing to meet my eye. “Take it as such. I won’t be charging you. Truth be told, I don’t know if I should give it to you at all.”
And then he was gone, disappeared like a puff of dark dust. Upon closer inspection, I saw the package had been wrapped, sealed, and tied with the string circled three times around. Unable to open it with my own power, I walked to the desk and asked Mr. Sylvan to lend me his letter opener. Silver and sharp, it weighed heavy in my hand as I sliced through the string and along the sealed edges.
“It’s my Christmas portrait,” I said as much to myself as to Mr. Sylvan. I unwrapped the layers and uncovered the image printed on heavy paper. I felt myself frown at first. Haley had promised a tint, but I saw nothing but ordinary black and white.
Then the image blurred in my trembling hand.
“Mrs. Krause?” Mr. Sylvan’s voice lurked beyond the roaring of the rush of blood in my ears.
I dropped the image to the desktop and braced my hands beside it. A sob caught in my throat, perfectly timed to Mr. Sylvan’s un-Sylvan-like gasp.
The Christmas tree, it seemed, had failed in its spell to protect me from the ghost of Sallie White. For there she was, in the photograph. Right behind me. Her hand resting on my shoulder.
Chapter 8
Dini scanned the crowd. Families gathered with blankets and lawn chairs, leaving a nonlinear, narrowly winding path. Her phone buzzed in her hand, Arya’s face on the screen. Dini swiped. “Where are you?”
“Look toward the raspa truck. We’re in front of it.”
Dini imagined a grid and made a purposeful search, finally seeing Arya distinctly. She and Bill had staked out a prime spot near the stage where three guys in ratty jeans and T-shirts rambled around plugging in cords and rolling amps. Dini picked her way through, dodging children and muttering apologies to adults who came to inexplicable dead stops in front of her.
“There she is,” Arya crooned, setting Bea free to run and collide with Dini’s legs.
“Hey there.” Dini touched the top of Bea’s head. “You just saw me yesterday, remember?”
“I told her we could go get a treat as soon as you got here.” Arya had been lounging on the blanket