Excerpt
The sharp smell of pine made Joe Tesla smile. He padded into the old-fashioned parlor where an unadorned tree greeted him. Then he started up his Christmas playlist and whistled for his dog, Edison.
"We need a little Christmas," he told the dog.
Edison sniffed the tree trunk.
"This is an inside tree," Joe warned.
Edison gave him an injured look.
"Sorry boy," Joe said. "For a second I thought you might be—never mind."
He gave the dog a gingerbread cookie from a plate next to the wingback chair as an apology. Edison crunched it thoughtfully.
Joe opened an old box full of wood wool and Victorian ornaments. The box and its contents had been left behind by the house's original owner, the designer of Grand Central Terminal. He'd insisted on having his own house built in a cavern underneath the station in 1913 and Joe considered himself very lucky indeed to be able to lease it from his descendants.
He fished out a handful of tinsel. It shone with a deep silver light completely unlike the modern variety.
"Something this pretty can't be good," he told Edison. "Don't touch it until I see what they made this out of."
A quick online search confirmed his suspicions.
"It's made out of lead," he told Edison and put it in a bag to dispose of later. Then he washed his hands.
Together, they decorated the tree. First, Joe hung the lights while Edison supervised.
"Did you know they used to use candles for this, originally?" Joe asked.
The dog didn't.
"Christmas used to be a time of lead and fire," he said.
Edison looked meaningfully at the plate of cookies. Joe gave him one and took one for himself. The dog finished his second cookie and stretched out in front of the fireplace, watching Joe hang ornaments.
When he finished, Joe said, "Want to go ride trains?"
Edison stood and wagged his tail. He did.
They took the antique elevator up to Grand Central Terminal and exited the clock. Joe paused before going into the great hall, watching people in coats and hats and gloves bustling around carrying hot chocolate and coffee and mysterious packages.
He had long since committed the train schedules to memory. The next to leave was the 6. He and Edison boarded and watched people enter the car with shiny silver beads of melted snow on their shoulders. Ash-gray clumps fell from boot treads and collected in the corners of the car.
A girl in a bright red hat with a red bobble on top held her mother's hand with one red mitten. The girl's cheeks were pink with cold and her shiny black boots were wet. Her mother carried shopping bags displaying store names with wrapped presents tucked inside. The girl's other hand was bare and darted compulsively to her coat pocket.
Edison perked up his ears and he stared at her as if hypnotized. Joe looked at the dog in surprise. The dog usually didn't show an interest in train passengers. When he wore his service vest, he was on duty.
The girl glared at him and shook her head. Before Joe could figure out what this was about, the girl and her mother were swept out of the car in a rush of passengers at Longwood Avenue Station. Joe stood to follow, but then Edison did something he'd never done before.
He jerked the leash out of Joe's hand and ran down the car.
"Edison?" Joe asked in surprise.
The dog didn't listen. He reached the middle of the car, not far from where the girl had stood, and crouched down. People flowed into the car, but the dog didn't budge.
Joe pushed his way through the shoppers to his dog. He only had one more station to ride before the train went above ground. He had to be off it by then. But the dog was placid and predictable and anything that riled him up so much he didn't come when called had to be important. Had he found a bomb? Was he injured?
He reached the dog and bent to see.
Between Edison's legs, a tiny orange creature with blue eyes meowed. Edison raised worried eyes to Joe. Joe groaned. "This is the last thing I need."
Edison whimpered.
"I'll get it home," Joe told him.
