A Christmas Message Page 22

The question forced her to raise her eyes and meet his. She held his gaze for only a fraction of a second before glancing away.

  The traffic light changed and, side by side, they crossed the street.

  “I’d like to take you to dinner,” he said. He’d decided that if he invited her out on a real date they could straighten out the problem, whatever it was.

  “When?”

  At least she hadn’t turned him down flat. That was encouraging. “Whenever you say.” He’d rearrange his schedule if necessary. “Tonight? Tomorrow? I’m free every evening. Or I can be.” He wanted it understood that he wasn’t involved with anyone else. In fact, he hadn’t been in a serious relationship in years.

  His primary goal for the past decade had been to learn the retail business from the ground up, and as a result his social life had suffered. He worked long hours and that had taken a toll on his relationships. After his last breakup, which was in... Jake had to stop and think. June, he remembered. Had it really been that long? At any rate, Judith had told him it was over before they’d really begun.

  At the time he’d felt bad, but agreed it was probably for the best. Funny how easily he could let go of a woman with hardly a pause after just four weeks. Judith had been attractive, successful, intelligent, but there’d been no real connection between them. The thought of letting Holly walk out of his life was a completely different scenario, one that filled him with dread.

  All he could think about on Sunday was when he’d see her again. His pride had influenced his decision not to call her; he didn’t want her to know how important she’d become to him in such a short time. Despite that, he’d gone to Starbucks first thing this morning.

  “Tonight?” she repeated, referring to his dinner invitation. “You mean this evening?”

  “Sure,” he said with a shrug. “I’m available Tuesday night if that’s better for you.”

  She hesitated, as if considering his offer. “Thanks, but I don’t have anyone to look after Gabe.”

  “I could bring us dinner.” He wasn’t willing to give up that quickly.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you trying so hard?”

  “Why are you inventing excuses not to see me?”

  He didn’t understand her reluctance. Saturday, when he’d dropped her off at her Brooklyn apartment and kissed her good-night, she’d practically melted in his arms. Now she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

  Holly stared down at the sidewalk. People hurried past them and around them. They stood like boulders in the middle of a fast-moving stream, neither of them moving, neither talking.

  “I... I didn’t know who you were,” she eventually admitted. “Not until later.”

  “I told you my name’s Jake Finley.” He didn’t pretend not to understand what she meant. This wasn’t the first time his family name had intimidated someone. He just hadn’t expected that sort of reaction from Holly. He’d assumed she knew, and that was part of her charm because it hadn’t mattered to her.

  “I know you did,” she countered swiftly. “And I feel stupid for not connecting the dots.”

  He stiffened. “And my name bothers you?”

  “Not really,” she said, and her gaze locked with his before she slowly lowered her lashes. “I guess it does, but not for the reasons you’re assuming.”

  “What exactly am I assuming?” he asked.

  “That I’d use you.”

  “For what?” he demanded.

  “Well, for one thing, that robot toy. We both know how badly Gabe wants it for Christmas and it’s expensive and you might think I...”

  “What would I think?” he asked forcefully when she didn’t complete her sentence.

  “That I’d want you to get me the toy.”

  “Would you ask me to do that?” If she did, he’d gladly purchase it—retail price—on her behalf.

  “No. Never.” Her eyes flared with the intensity of her response. She started to leave and Jake followed.

  “Then it’s a moot point.” He began to walk, carefully matching his longer stride to her shorter one. “Under no circumstances will I purchase that toy for you. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” she said.

  “Anything else?”

  Holly looked at him and then away. “I don’t come from a powerful family or know famous people or—”

  “Do you think I care?”

  “No, but if you did, you’d be plain out of luck.”

  He smiled. “That’s fine with me.”

  “Okay,” she said, stopping abruptly. “Can you explain why you want to see me?”

  Jake wished he had a logical response. He felt drawn to her in ways he hadn’t with other women. “I can’t say for sure, but deep down I feel that if we were to walk away from each other right now, I’d regret it.”

  “You do?” she asked softly, and pressed her hand to her heart. “Jake, I feel the same way. What’s happening to us?”

  He didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know.” But he definitely felt it, and that feeling intensified with each meeting.

  They started walking again. “So, can I see you tonight?” he asked. That was important, necessary.

  Her face fell. “I wasn’t making it up, about not having anyone to take care of Gabe. If you were serious about bringing us dinner...”

  “I was.”

  Her face brightened. “Then that would work out perfectly.”

  “Do you like take-out Chinese?” he asked, thinking Gabe would enjoy it, as well.

  “Love it.”

  “Me, too, but you’ll have to use chopsticks.”

  “Okay, I’ll give it a try.”

  “Great.” Jake breathed easier. Everything was falling into place, just the way he’d hoped it would. He glanced at his watch and grimaced. He was late for work. He hoped Karen or Mrs. Miracle had covered for him.

  Retreating now, taking two steps backward, he called out to Holly, “Six-thirty? At your place?”

  She nodded eagerly. “Yes. And thank you, Jake, thank you so much.”

  He raised his hand. “See you tonight.”

  “Tonight,” she echoed, and they both turned and hurried off to their respective jobs.

  Jake’s step was noticeably lighter as he rushed toward the department store. By the time he arrived, ten minutes later than usual, he was breathless. He’d just clocked in and headed for the elevator when his father stopped him, wearing a frown that told him J.R. wasn’t happy.

  “Are you keeping bankers’ hours these days?”

  “No,” Jake told him. “I had an appointment.” A slight stretch of the truth.

  “I was looking for you.”

  “Any particular reason?” Jake asked. He’d bet his lunch break this sudden interest in the toy department had to do with those robots.

  His father surprised him, however, with a completely different question. “I heard from HR that you requested a transfer for one of the seasonal staff....”

  “Mrs. Miracle.”

  “Who? No, that wasn’t the name.”

  “No, it’s Merkle or Michaels or something like that. The name badge mistakenly says Miracle, and she insisted that’s what we call her.”

  His father seemed confused, which was fine with Jake. He felt he was being rather clever to keep J.R.’s attention away from the robots.

  J.R. ignored the comment. “You asked for this Mrs. Miracle or whoever she is to be transferred and then you changed your mind. Do I understand correctly?”

  “Yes. After I made the initial request, I realized she was a good fit for the department—a grandmotherly figure who relates well to kids and parents. She adds exactly the right touch.”

  “I see,” his father murmured. “Okay, whatever you decide is fine.”

  That was generous, seeing that he was the department head, Ja
ke mused with more affection than sarcasm.

  “While I have you, tell me, how are sales of that expensive robot going?”

  Jake wasn’t fooled. His father already knew the answer to that. “Sales are picking up. We sold a total of twenty-five over the weekend.”

  “Twenty-five,” his father said slowly. “There’re still a lot of robots left in the storeroom, though, aren’t there?”

  “Yes,” Jake admitted.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  He made some additional remark Jake couldn’t quite grasp, but it didn’t sound like something he wanted to hear, anyway, so he didn’t ask J.R. to repeat it.

  As he entered the toy department, clipping on his “Manager” badge, Jake was glad to see Mrs. Miracle on duty.

  “Good morning, Mr. Finley,” she said, looking pleased with herself.

  “Good morning. I apologize for being late—”

  “No problem. I sold two Intellytrons this morning.”

  “Already?” This was encouraging news and improved his workday almost before it had started. “That’s wonderful!”

  “They seem to be catching on.”

  The phone rang just then, and Jake stepped behind the counter to answer. The woman at the other end of the line was looking for Intellytron and sighed with audible relief when Jake assured her he had plenty in stock. She asked that he hold one for her.

  “I’ll be happy to,” Jake said. He found Mrs. Miracle watching him, smiling, when he ended the conversation. “I think you might be right,” he said. “That was a woman calling about Intellytron. She sounded excited when I told her we’ve got them.”

  Mrs. Miracle rubbed her palms together. “I knew it.” The morning lull was about to end; in another half hour, the store would explode with customers. Since toys were on the third floor, it took time for shoppers to drift up the escalators and elevators, so they still had a few minutes of relative peace. Jake decided to take advantage of it by questioning his rather unusual employee.

  “I thought I saw you on Saturday night,” he commented in a nonchalant voice, watching her closely.

  “Me?” she asked.

  Jake noted that she looked a bit sheepish. “Did you happen to take a walk around Central Park around ten or ten-thirty?”

  “My heavens, no! After spending all day on my feet, the last thing I’d do is wander aimlessly around Central Park. At that time of night, no less.” Her expression turned serious. “What makes you ask?”

  “I could’ve sworn that was you I saw across from the park.”

  She laughed as though the question was ludicrous. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

  “No.” Jake grew even more suspicious. Her nervous reaction seemed to imply that she wasn’t being completely truthful. “Don’t you remember? You suggested I take a stroll through the park.”

  “I said that?”

  “You did,” he insisted. He wasn’t about to be dismissed quite this easily. “You said it would help clear my head.”

  “After a long day at work? My goodness, what was I thinking?”

  Jake figured the question was rhetorical, so he didn’t respond. “I met Holly Larson and her nephew there,” he told her.

  “My, that was a nice coincidence, wasn’t it?”

  “Very nice,” he agreed.

  “Are you seeing her again?” the older woman asked.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” He didn’t share any details. The less she knew about his personal life, the better. Mrs. Miracle might appear to be an innocent senior citizen, but he had his doubts. Not that he suspected anything underhanded or nefarious. She seemed... Jake couldn’t come up with the right word. He liked Mrs. Miracle and she was an excellent employee, a natural saleswoman. And yet... He didn’t really know much about her.

  And what he did know didn’t seem to add up.

  Chapter Eight

  Aspire to inspire before you expire.

  —Mrs. Miracle

  Holly felt as if she was walking on air the rest of the way into the office. It didn’t matter how rotten her day turned out to be; no one was going to ruin it after her conversation with Jake.

  She’d spent a miserable Sunday and had worked herself into a state after she’d discovered Jake’s position with the department store. Son and heir. Now, having talked to him, she realized her concerns were irrelevant. Okay, so his family was rich and influential; that didn’t define him or say anything about the person he really was.

  The question that, inevitably, kept going around and around in her mind was why someone like Jake Finley would be interested in her. The reality was that he could have his pick of women. To further complicate the situation, she was taking care of Gabe. Lots of men would see her nephew as an encumbrance. Apparently not Jake.

  Holly was happy they’d gotten this settled. She felt reassured about his interest—and about the fact that he’d promised not to purchase the robot for her. Mickey had offered, too, but she knew he was financially strapped. Besides, getting Gabe this toy for Christmas—as her gift to him—was important to Holly.

  She couldn’t entirely explain why. Maybe because of Bill’s implication that she wasn’t good with kids. She had something to prove—if not to Bill or Mickey or even Jake, she had to prove it to herself. Nothing was going to keep her from making this the best possible Christmas for Gabe.

  Holly entered her cubicle outside Lindy Lee’s office and hung up her coat. She’d been surprised to find her boss in the office on Saturday afternoon and had tried to keep Gabe occupied so he wouldn’t pester her. Unfortunately, Holly’s efforts hadn’t worked. She’d caught Gabe with Lindy Lee twice. One look made her suspect Lindy didn’t really appreciate the intrusion. As soon as they’d finished putting up the decorations, Holly had dragged Gabe out with her. But this morning, as she looked around the office, she was pleased with her work. The bright red bulbs that hung outside her cubicle created an air of festivity. She couldn’t help it—she started singing “Jingle Bells.”

  “Where is that file?” Lindy Lee shouted. She was obviously in her usual Monday-morning bad mood. Her employer was sorting through her in-basket, cursing impatiently under her breath.

  Of course, Lindy Lee didn’t mention which file she needed. But deciphering vague demands was all part and parcel of Holly’s job. And fortunately she had a pretty good idea which one her boss required.

  Walking into Lindy Lee’s office, Holly reached across the top of the desk, picked up a file and handed it to her.

  Lindy Lee growled something back, opened the file and then smiled. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Holly said cheerfully.

  The designer eyed her suspiciously. “What are you so happy about?” she asked.

  “Nothing... I met up with a friend this morning, that’s all.”

  “I take it this friend is a man.”

  Holly nodded. “A very special man.”

  “Honey, don’t believe it.” She laughed as though to say Holly had a lot to learn about the opposite sex. “Men will break your heart before breakfast and flush it down the toilet just for fun.”

  Holly didn’t bother to explain about Jake. Lindy Lee’s experience with men might be far more extensive than her own, but it was obviously different. Jake would never do anything to hurt her; she was sure of it. Besides, Lindy Lee socialized in different circles—Jake’s circles, she realized with a start. Still, Holly couldn’t make herself believe Jake was the kind of man who’d mislead her. Even though they’d known each other so briefly, every instinct she had told her she could trust him, and she did.

  No irrational demand or bad temper was going to spoil her day, Holly decided. Because that evening she was seeing Jake.

  Holly guessed wrong. Her day was ruined.

  Early that afternoon she slipped back into her cubicle after delive
ring Lindy Lee’s latest sketches to the tech department, where they’d be translated into patterns, which would then be sewn up as samples. Lindy was talking to the bookkeeper and apparently neither one noticed that she’d returned.

  Holly hadn’t intended to listen in on the conversation, but it would’ve been impossible not to with Lindy Lee’s office door wide-open. In Holly’s opinion, if Lindy wanted to keep the conversation private, then it was up to her to close the door.

  “Christmas bonuses are due this Friday,” Marsha, the bookkeeper, reminded their boss.

  “Due.” Lindy Lee pounced on the word. “Since when is a bonus due? It’s my understanding that a bonus is exactly that—a bonus—an extra that’s distributed at my discretion.”

  “Well, yes, but you’ve given us one every year since you went out on your own.”

  “That’s because I could afford to.”

  “You’ve had a decent year,” Marsha said calmly.

  Holly wanted to stand and cheer. Marsha was right; profits were steady despite the economy. The staff had worked hard, although their employer took them for granted. Lindy Lee didn’t appear to notice or value the team who backed her both personally and professionally. More times than she cared to count, Holly had dropped off and picked up Lindy’s dry cleaning or run errands for her. She often went above and beyond anything listed in her job description.

  Not once had she complained. The way Holly figured it, her main task was to give Lindy Lee the freedom to be creative and do what she did best and that was design clothes.

  “A decent year, perhaps,” Lindy Lee repeated. “But not a stellar one.”

  “True,” Marsha agreed. “But you’re holding your own in a terrible economy.”

  “All right, I’ll reconsider.” Lindy Lee walked over to the window, her back to Holly. Not wanting to be caught listening, Holly quietly stood. There was plenty to do away from her desk—like filing. Clutching a sheaf of documents, she held her breath as she waited for Lindy’s decision.

  “Everyone gets the same bonus as last year,” Lindy Lee said with a beleaguered sigh.

  Holly released her breath.

  “Everyone except Holly Larson.”