Special Delivery by Ann M. Martin

might peek into when “Jingle Bells” blared so loudly from within her coat that she jumped, nearly stumbling over an indignant dachshund being walked by an elderly man.
    â€œSorry! I’m sorry!” exclaimed Allie as she fumbled for her phone. To her surprise, since she thought she had set the volume as high as it would go, the sounds of “Jingle Bells” grew even louder (and somewhat frantic) as she struggled to unbutton her coat and reach into the pocket.
    She didn’t bother to check the caller ID. “Hello? Hello?” she said breathlessly.
    â€œHi! It’s me!” said the voice at the other end of the line. “Did the baby come yet?”
    â€œRuby?” asked Aunt Allie.
    â€œYup. And Flora’s here, too. We just wanted to know if we have a new cousin.”
    â€œOh, believe me, honey, you two and Min are the first people I’ll call when there’s any news, but I haven’t heard from Mrs. Prescott today.”
    â€œOh.” Ruby paused. “For corn’s sake! That’s what Min would say.”
    Allie laughed. “I know. Listen, I promise I’ll call you the moment anything happens. But it’s nice to hear your voice. I’m sorry I’m going to miss your solos tomorrow.”
    â€œMe, too. But you’ll get to hear me in the Christmas concert. Just wait. It’s the longest and best solo I’ve ever — What? But I’m right in the middle of —” Allie heard a muffled commotion on the other end of the line, and then Ruby said, “Oh,
okay
. Aunt Allie, Flora wants to talk to you.”
    â€œHi, Aunt Allie! We just wanted to tell you we’re thinking about you,” said Flora. “And our cousin, of course. We’ll talk to you again soon.”
    â€œThanks for calling, honey.” Allie clicked off her phone, but not before she heard Flora say, “Ruby, not everything is about
you
. We were calling to talk about the baby, not your solos.”
    Allie smiled as she continued along Fifth Avenue. She decided not to look in the children’s clothing store and instead marched resolutely north toward Midtown. At last, she glimpsed a long line of people snaking back and forth in front of brightly lit windows. She had reached Lord & Taylor — and what she personally considered to be the most splendid windows in the entire city. Allie joined the line. In front of her were two women and two little girls. The girls were about six and four, Allie guessed, dressed in woolen mittens and woolen scarves and woolen leg warmers and woolen hats. The younger one kept tugging at her mother’s hand and saying, “But I don’t see Santa anywhere!”
    â€œThis isn’t the line for Santa,” said the older girl patiently. “This is the line for the windows. Look. We’re almost there.”
    â€œBut I want to see Santa!”
    â€œBut you can’t.”
    â€œBut I want to!”
    Once again, Allie jumped when her coat began to play “Jingle Bells,” but this time she answered her phone more quickly. “Hello?” she said breathlessly, and the small girl turned around to stare at her. Allie’s heart was pounding. Please be Mrs. Prescott, she pleaded silently.
    â€œAllie? This is Gigi.”
    Allie sagged slightly but managed to say, “Gigi! What a surprise.”
    â€œAny news yet? Min told me what’s going on. Actually, she’s told everyone what’s going on. I just had to give you a call.”
    â€œThank you,” said Allie. “Well, nothing’s happening. Nothing new, anyway. I haven’t heard from Mrs. Prescott today and that means the birth mother hasn’t gone into labor yet. Which is what the doctors want.”
    â€œThis must be so nerve-wracking,” said Gigi. “All right. I won’t keep you.”
    Allie put her phone away again, and the line continued to snake toward the windows. Allie inched along