Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [97]
Seated above them all was a queen with a jeweled crown, resplendent on a throne. Angela recognized the young woman as a national figure skating champion who’d gotten her start in a small town nearby. A banner fixed over the throne read MEET TINA TWINKLES!
Tina wasn’t wearing skates but high heels. Her long legs, crossed demurely at an angle, were clad in sparkling tights. It was hard to tell where they ended and her abbreviated skating costume began. That was covered in crystals and fit her like a second skin.
She waved graciously to one and all from her throne, and starstruck girls and boys waved back, some held on their parents’ shoulders. The crystals on her costume and the float sent off blinding flashes of light as cameras came out and pictures got snapped by the hundreds.
Angela looked at Charlie. The intense, repeated flashes were like strobe lights and seemed to bother him—he squinted against the glare and turned away.
There was really no way out now. He wasn’t likely to make himself conspicuous by walking in the wide space down which the immense float was proceeding, and he couldn’t shove his way through the eager crowds to either side of it. She happened to catch sight of her father, who shot a worried look Charlie’s way and then looked back at her. Murray had the presence of mind not to yell What the hell? But he mouthed the words.
She motioned to him to stay where he was. Her father didn’t budge after that, but watched her—and her quarry, Charlie—with narrowed eyes.
The float stopped and the parents and kids swarmed around it. The handlers, mostly men, who walked alongside it managed the crowd control fairly well, until Tina rose from her throne and stepped daintily toward a staircase that Angela hadn’t seen at first.
“Meet Miss Twinkles! Get her autograph!” one of the handlers called.
The parents holding their young children on their shoulders struggled to keep them there, as the older kids begged their mothers for pen and paper. It was chaos but happy chaos.
Tina signed everything that was held out to her, never losing her composure. Then she looked up and saw Maria in back of everyone, still strapped into the wheelchair, clutching the pillows that supported her frail body. Tina’s eyes got misty. She blew a kiss to the little girl, which made Maria lift her hand and wave almost frantically. The child looked absolutely dazzled.
Angela kept Charlie in her peripheral vision, wondering what to do next. He remained standing, motionless, looking at the sparkly figureskating queen with indifference.
Tina moved through the crowd to Maria. Carol looked a little dazzled as well, but her concern for her daughter kept both of them where they were.
“Hello,” Tina said when she’d reached the wheelchair. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Maria. You’re so pretty, Miss Tina. Much prettier than those angels,” the little girl chirped.
Tina laughed that idea away. “Well, thank you. I’m happy you think so.”
Despite her thick makeup and inch-long fake eyelashes, her voice was genuine and sweet. Angela realized that Maria had most likely forgotten all about chatting with Santa Claus. For the moment, anyway.
“I wish I could skate like you,” Maria said wistfully.
One of the handlers had made his way through the crowd with a folding chair. Tina sat down graciously and more cameras flashed. She whispered something in the guy’s ear and he got busy keeping the curious onlookers at a respectful distance.
“I think I was about your age when I started,” Tina said. “How old are you, Maria?”
“Six.”
“That’s just right. I was six, too.”
Maria beamed at her. “But I have to get better. Then maybe I can learn. Can I, Mommy?” She craned her neck to look back at her mother, who clutched the wheelchair’s