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isn’t it?”
    “Momma tucks herself in.”
    “I’m going to finish talking to her and then I’m going to go home and figure out what to do next,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
    “But,” Dingleberry said, scared.
    “Really, Ding. Everything’s gonna be all right.”
    Dingleberry chewed on it a half minute more and then slid off the stool. “You call me when you get home, OK? Please.”
    “I will. I promise. You run along now.”
    It was quiet for a minute after Dingleberry skipped off, as if Rosebud and me realized that we didn’t deserve to know an elf as fine as Dingleberry Fizz. “He worries,” I said finally.
    “I gathered,” she said. “I bet it’s nice to have somebody worried about you.”
    “That would be a good bet,” I said. “No one’s worried about you?”
    “No,” Rosebud said, twisting the peppermint around her mouth. “I’m a snowflake in a blizzard. The only people who care about me are the housewives waiting for the next piece of gossip or the politicians who think I can turn their lies into lullabies. If I got run over by a reindeer tomorrow, nobody would miss me.”
    “Don’t count on it.”
    “That’s sweet, but I’m OK with the idea of it. It means I’m free to do what I want.” Rosebud said it, but the silence behind it lacked her usual spunk. I filled it.
    “So why you still circling this story, Jubilee?” I asked. “There’s no more meat to it. I’m finished. End of story.”
    “I think you were set up,” she said. “And I think you think it, too.”
    “Candy Cane,” I said.
    “Santa’s bright boy.”
    “I don’t doubt he bent the old man’s ear,” I said. “But I think he’s just trying to make his mark. The Coal Patrol was the easiest target. Folks have been telling me I was too rough on kids for years. Santa still gets hate mail from the Raymond Halls of the world because of me. Maybe Santa thought it was time for a change.”
    “You don’t think that,” she said, leaning in. “You just said you thought that naughty and nice kids both getting presents would kill Santa. Now suddenly change is good? Tie that bull up outside, cowboy.”
    “Once Cane sees what spoiling all children will do to Santa, he’ll pull back,” I said. “I bet they’ll just give a few less presents to the naughty kids. The point is that they don’t want the kids to have their face rubbed in it, which is what a bag of coal does.” Rosebud looked at me like I was selling cheese. I smiled and gave her hand a little pat. “Boy, your ribbons are tied too tight, honey, if you think Cane’s out to get Santa. Without the big guy, we’d all be out of business. Why would he want Santa out?”
    Rosebud moved her hand, but not right away, I noticed. “Maybe he thinks he could do the old man’s job better,” she said, spitballing. “He already thinks he can do your job better. Maybe Cane wants to run the show.”
    “That’s a pipe dream,” I said. “It’ll never happen. The world would never stand for it.”
    “They would if they didn’t have a choice.”
    The idea that somebody was trying to hurt Santa burned me, even if it was just a bunch of cockamamie bunk from a two-bit reporter in a purple hat. I got up to leave. “I feel sorry for you, Jubilee. It must be awful to have to try and sleep with those kinds of ideas in your head. Farewell, my lovely.”
    “You don’t think it’s possible?” she asked. “You’re not going to do anything about it?”
    “I am going to support Santa and the new Candy Cane Coal Patrol any way I can!” But the words didn’t taste right in my mouth. Something in my gut told me that little Miss Know-It-All might be on to something, but I needed to go someplace where I could add things up.
    “More bull,” Rosebud called out after me. “You’re a regular rodeo cowboy.”
    “No,” I said, as I headed out the door. “I’m a regular misfit.”
    As I said it, I knew what I was going to do next.

CHAPTER 5
    A Couple of