Mrs. Miracle on 34th Street

This Christmas, Emily Merkle (just call her Mrs. Miracle) is working in the toy department of Finley’s, the last family-owned department store in New York City. And her boss is none other than Jake Finley, the owner’s son.

For Jake, holiday memories of brightly wrapped gifts, decorated trees and family gatherings were destroyed in a Christmas Eve tragedy years before. Now Christmas means only one thing to him—and to his father. Profit. Because they need a Christmas miracle to keep the business afloat.

Holly Larson needs a miracle, too. She wants to give her eight-year-old nephew, Gabe, the holiday he deserves. Holly’s widowed brother is in the army and won’t be home for Christmas, but at least she can get Gabe that toy robot from Finley’s, the one gift he desperately wants. If she can figure out how to pay for it…

Fortunately, it’s Mrs. Miracle to the rescue. Next to making children happy, she likes nothing better than helping others—and that includes doing a bit of matchmaking!

This Christmas will be different. For all of them.

A story that’s destined to become a Christmas classic from the Official Storyteller of Christmas.

Dear Friends,

Merry Christmas! I’m excited that two of my favorite holiday stories are being published together. Call Me Mrs. Miracle was written after the success of the Hallmark adaptation of Mrs. Miracle, which ranked as their highest rated movie of 2009. Call Me Mrs. Miracle, also starring the talented Doris Roberts, again scored as the network’s most viewed movie of the year.

The bonus story in this collection, The Christmas Basket, is another of my favorites. It won a RITA® Award, which is Romance Writers of America’s highest award for excellence in writing. That’s especially gratifying, because it was chosen by my peers. So you can see that both books signify high points in my writing career.

The holidays are a special time with our children and grandchildren, a time of gathering together, building memories, of laughter and fun. My wish is that these two books will be part of your holiday enjoyment.

Merry Christmas!

P.S. You can reach me in a number of ways—through my webpage at www.debbiemacomber.com or on Facebook. Or if you wish, you can reach me at P.O. Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366.

Make time for friends. Make time for

DEBBIE MACOMBER

CEDAR COVE

16 Lighthouse Road

204 Rosewood Lane

311 Pelican Court

44 Cranberry Point

50 Harbor Street

6 Rainier Drive

74 Seaside Avenue

8 Sandpiper Way

92 Pacific Boulevard

1022 Evergreen Place

1105 Yakima Street

A Merry Little Christmas

(featuring 1225 Christmas Tree Lane and 5-B Poppy Lane)

BLOSSOM STREET

The Shop on Blossom Street

A Good Yarn

Susannah's Garden

(previously published as Old Boyfriends)

Back on Blossom Street

(previously published as Wednesdays at Four)

Twenty Wishes

Summer on Blossom Street

Hannah's List

A Turn in the Road

Thursdays at Eight

Christmas in Seattle

Falling for Christmas

A Mother's Gift

Angels at Christmas

A Mother's Wish

Be My Valentine

Happy Mother’ s Day

On a Snowy Night

Summer in Orchard Valley

Summer Wedding Bells

Summer Brides

This Matter of Marriage

THE MANNINGS

The Manning Sisters

The Manning Brides

The Manning Grooms

THE DAKOTAS

Dakota Born

Dakota Home

Always Dakota

The Farmer Takes a Wife

(Exclusive short story)

Call Me Mrs Miracle

The Christmas Basket

Debbie Macomber

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Dear Reader

Make time for friends. Make time for DEBBIE MACOMBER

Title Page

Call Me Mrs Miracle

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Holiday Sugar Cookies

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Fried Chicken

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Baby Arugula Salad with Goat Cheese, Pecans and Pomegranate Seeds

Chapter Nineteen

The Christmas Basket

Dedication

Noelle McDowell’s Journal

Chapter One

Noelle McDowell’s Journal

Chapter Two

Noelle McDowell’s Journal

Chapter Three

Noelle McDowell’s Journal

Chapter Four

Noelle McDowell’s Journal

Chapter Five

Noelle McDowell’s Journal

Chapter Six

Noelle McDowell’s Journal

Chapter Seven

A Note From Noelle McDowell

Chapter Eight

Women’s Century Club

Chapter Nine

Sarah McDowell

Copyright

Call Me Mrs Miracle

Debbie Macomber

To

Dan and Sally Wigutow

and

Caroline Moore

in appreciation for bringing

Mrs. Miracle

to life

One

Need a new life? God takes trade-ins.

—Mrs. Miracle

Jake Finley waited impatiently to be ushered into his father’s executive office—the office that would one day be his. The thought of eventually stepping into J. R. Finley’s shoes excited him. Even though he’d slowly been working his way through the ranks, he’d be the first to admit he still had a lot to learn. However, he was willing to do whatever it took to prove himself.

Finley’s was the last of the family-owned department stores in New York City. His great-grandfather had begun the small mercantile on East 34th Street more than seventy years earlier. In the decades since, succeeding Finleys had opened branches in the other boroughs and then in nearby towns. Eventually the chain had spread up and down the East Coast.

“Your father will see you now,” Mrs. Coffey said. Dora Coffey had served as J.R.’s executive assistant for at least twenty-five years and knew as much about the company as Jake did—maybe more. He hoped that when the time came she’d stay on, although she had to be close to retirement age.

“Thank you.” He walked into the large office with its panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline. He’d lived in the city all his life, but this view never failed to stir him, never failed to lift his heart. No place on earth was more enchanting than New York in December. He could see a light snow drifting down, and the city appeared even more magical through that delicate veil.

Jacob R. Finley, however, wasn’t looking at the view. His gaze remained focused on the computer screen. And his frown told Jake everything he needed to know.

He cleared his throat, intending to catch J.R.’s attention, although he suspected that his father was well aware of his presence. “You asked to see me?” he said. Now that he was here, he had a fairly good idea what had initiated this summons. Jake had hoped it wouldn’t happen quite so soon, but he should’ve guessed Mike Scott would go running to his father at the first opportunity. Unfortunately, Jake hadn’t had enough time to prove that he was right—and Mike was wrong.

“How many of those SuperRobot toys did you order?” J.R. demanded, getting straight to the point. His father had never been one to lead gently into a subject. “Intellytron,” he added scornfully.

“Also known as Telly,” Jake said in a mild voice.

“How many?”

“Five hundred.” As if J.R. didn’t know.

“What?”

Jake struggled not to flinch at his father’s angry tone, which was something he rarely heard. They had a good relationship, but until now, Jake hadn’t defied one of his father’s experienced buyers.

“For how many stores?”

“Just here.”

J.R.’s brow relaxed, but only slightly. “Do you realize those things retail for two hundred and fifty dollars apiece?”

J.R. knew the answer to that as well as Jake did. “Yes.”

His father stood and walked over to the window, pacing back and forth with long, vigorous strides. Although in his early sixties, J.R. was in excellent shape. Tall and lean, like Jake himself, he had dark hair streaked with gray and his features were well-defined. No one could doubt that they were father and son. J.R. whirled around, hands linked behind him. “Did you clear the order with...anyone?”

Jake was as straightforward as his father. “No.”

“Any particular reason you went over Scott’s head?”

Jake had a very good reason. “We discussed it. He didn’t agree, but I felt this was the right thing to do.” Mike Scott had wanted to bring a maximum of fifty robots into the Manhattan location. Jake had tried to persuade him, but Mike wasn’t interested in listening to speculation or taking what he saw as a risk—one that had the potential of leaving them with a huge overstock. He relied on cold, hard figures and years of purchasing experience. When their discussion was over, Mike still refused to go against what he considered his own better judgment. Jake continued to argue, presenting internet research and what his gut was telling him about this toy. When he’d finished, Mike Scott had countered with a list of reasons why fifty units per store would be adequate. More than adequate, in his opinion. While Jake couldn’t disagree with the other man’s logic, he had a strong hunch that the much larger order was worth the risk.

“You felt it was right?” his father repeated in a scathing voice. “Mike Scott told me we’d be fortunate to sell fifty in each store, yet you, with your vast experience of two months in the toy department, decided the Manhattan store needed ten times that number.”

Jake didn’t have anything to add.

“I don’t suppose you happened to notice that there’s been a downturn in the economy? Parents don’t have two hundred and fifty bucks for a toy. Not when a lot of families are pinching pennies.”

“You made me manager of the toy department.” Jake wasn’t stupid or reckless. “I’m convinced we’ll sell those robots before Christmas.” As manager, it was his responsibility—and his right—to order as he deemed fit. And if that meant overriding a buyer’s decision—well, he could live with that.

“You think you can sell all five hundred of those robots?” Skepticism weighted each word. “In two weeks?”

“Yes.” Jake had to work hard to maintain his air of confidence. Still he held firm.

His father took a moment to consider Jake’s answer, walking a full circle around his desk as he did. “As of this morning, how many units have you sold?”

That was an uncomfortable question and Jake glanced down at the floor. “Three.”

“Three.” J.R. shook his head and stalked to the far side of the room, then back again as if debating how to address the situation. “So what you’re saying is that our storeroom has four hundred and ninety-seven expensive SuperRobots clogging it up?”

“They’re going to sell, Dad.”

“It hasn’t happened yet, though, has it?”

“No, but I believe the robot’s going to be the hottest toy of the season. I’ve done the research—this is the toy kids are talking about.”

“Maybe, but let me remind you, kids aren’t our customers. Their parents are. Which is why no one else in the industry shares your opinion.”

“I know it’s a risk, Dad, but it’s a calculated one. Have faith.”

His father snorted harshly at the word faith. “My faith died along with your mother and sister,” he snapped.

Involuntarily Jake’s eyes sought out the photograph of his mother and sister. Both had been killed in a freak car accident on Christmas Eve twenty-one years ago. Neither Jake nor his father had celebrated Christmas since that tragic night. Ironically, the holiday season was what kept Finley’s in the black financially. Without the three-month Christmas shopping craze, the department-store chain would be out of business.

Because of the accident, Jake and his father ignored anything to do with Christmas in their personal lives. Every December twenty-fourth, soon after the store closed, the two of them got on a plane and flew to Saint John in the Virgin Islands. From the time Jake was twelve, there hadn’t been a Christmas tree or presents or anything else that would remind him of the holiday. Except, of course, at the store...

“Trust me in this, Dad,” Jake pleaded. “Telly the SuperRobot will be the biggest seller of the season, and pretty soon Finley’s will be the only store in Manhattan where people can find them.”

His father reached for a pen and rolled it between his fingers as he mulled over Jake’s words. “I put you in charge of the toy department because I thought it would be a valuable experience for you. One day you’ll sit in this chair. The fate of the company will rest in your hands.”

His father wasn’t telling him anything Jake didn’t already know.

“If the toy department doesn’t show a profit because you went over Mike Scott’s head, then you’ll have a lot to answer for.” He locked eyes with Jake. “Do I make myself clear?”

Jake nodded. If the toy department reported a loss as a result of his judgment, his father would question Jake’s readiness to take over the company.

“Got it,” Jake assured his father.

“Good. I want a report on the sale of that robot every week until Christmas.”

“You’ll have it,” Jake promised. He turned to leave.

“I hope you’re right about this toy, son,” J.R. said as Jake opened the office door. “You’ve taken a big risk. I hope it pays off.”

He wasn’t the only one. Still, Jake believed. He’d counted on having proof that the robots were selling by the time his father learned what he’d done. Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, which was generally the biggest shopping day of the year, had been a major disappointment. He’d fantasized watching the robots fly off the shelves.

It hadn’t happened.

Although they’d been prominently displayed, just one of the expensive toys had sold. He supposed his father had a point; in a faltering economy, people were evaluating their Christmas budgets, so toys, especially expensive ones, had taken a hit. Children might want the robots but it was their parents who did the buying.

Jake’s head throbbed as he made his way to the toy department. In his rush to get to the store that morning, he’d skipped his usual stop at a nearby Starbucks. He needed his caffeine fix.

“Welcome to Finley’s. May I be of assistance?” an older woman asked him. The store badge pinned prominently on her neat gray cardigan told him her name was Mrs. Emily Miracle. Her smile was cheerful and engaging. She must be the new sales assistant Human Resources had been promising him—but she simply wouldn’t do. Good grief, what were they thinking up in HR? Sales in the toy department could be brisk, demanding hours of standing, not to mention dealing with cranky kids and short-tempered parents. He needed someone young. Energetic.

“What can I show you?” the woman asked.

Jake blinked, taken aback by her question. “I beg your pardon?”

“Are you shopping for one of your children?”

“Well, no. I—”

She didn’t allow him to finish and steered him toward the center aisle. “We have an excellent selection of toys for any age group. If you’re looking for suggestions, I’d be more than happy to help.”

She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was the department manager—and therefore her boss. “Excuse me, Mrs....” He glanced at her name tag a second time. “Mrs. Miracle.”

“Actually, it’s Merkle.”

“The badge says Miracle.”

“Right,” she said, looking a bit chagrined. “HR made a mistake, but I don’t mind. You can call me Mrs. Miracle.”

Speaking of miracles... If ever Jake needed one, it was now. Those robots had to sell. His entire future with the company could depend on this toy.

“I’d be more than happy to assist you,” Mrs. Miracle said again, breaking into his thoughts.

“I’m Jake Finley.”

“Pleased to meet you. Do you have a son or a daughter?” she asked.

“This is Finley’s Department Store,” he said pointedly.

Apparently this new employee had yet to make the connection, which left Jake wondering exactly where HR found their seasonal help. There had to be someone more capable than this woman.

“Finley,” Mrs. Miracle repeated slowly. “Jacob Robert is your father, then?”

“Yes,” he said, frowning. Only family and close friends knew his father’s middle name.

Her eyes brightened, and a smile slid into place. “Ahh,” she said knowingly.

“You’re acquainted with my father?” That could explain why she’d been hired. Maybe she had some connection to his family he knew nothing about.

“No, no, not directly, but I have heard a great deal about him.”

So had half the population on the East Coast. “I’m the manager here in the toy department,” he told her. He clipped on his badge as he spoke, realizing he’d stuck it in his pocket. The badge said simply “Manager,” without including his name, since his policy was to be as anonymous as possible, to be known by his role, not his relationship to the owner.

“The manager. Yes,” she said, nodding happily. “This works out beautifully.”

“What does?” Her comments struck him as odd.

“Oh, nothing,” she returned with the same smile.

She certainly looked pleased with herself, although Jake couldn’t imagine why. He doubted she’d last a week. He’d see about getting her transferred to a more suitable department for someone her age. Oh, he’d be subtle about it. He had no desire to risk a discrimination suit.

Jake examined the robot display, hoping that while he’d been gone another one might have sold. But if that was the case, he didn’t see any evidence of it.

“Have you had your morning coffee?” Mrs. Miracle asked.

“No,” he muttered. His head throbbed, reminding him of his craving for caffeine.

“It seems quiet here at the moment. Why don’t you take your break?” she suggested. “The other sales associate and I can handle anything that comes along.”

Jake hesitated.

“Go on,” she urged. “Everyone needs their morning coffee.”

“You go,” he said. He was, after all, the department manager, so he should be the last to leave.

“Oh, heavens, no. I just finished a cup.” Looking around, she gestured toward the empty aisles. “It’s slow right now but it’s sure to pick up later, don’t you think?”

She was right. In another half hour or so, he might not get a chance. His gaze rested on the robots and he pointed in their direction. “Do what you can to interest shoppers in those.”

“Telly the SuperRobot?” she said. Not waiting for his reply, she added, “You won’t have any worries there. They’re going to be the hottest item this Christmas.”

Jake felt a surge of excitement. “You heard that?”

“No...” she answered thoughtfully.

“Then you must’ve seen a news report.” Jake had been waiting for exactly this kind of confirmation. He’d played a hunch, taken a chance, and in his heart of hearts felt it had been a good decision. But he had four hundred and ninety-seven of these robots on his hands. If his projections didn’t pan out, it would take a long time—like maybe forever—to live it down.

“Coffee,” Mrs. Miracle said, without explaining why she was so sure of the robot’s success.

Jake checked his watch, then nodded. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Take whatever time you need.”

Jake thanked her and hurriedly left, stopping by HR on his way out. The head of the department, Gloria Palmer, glanced up when Jake entered the office. “I’ve got a new woman on the floor this morning. Emily Miracle,” he said.

Gloria frowned. “Miracle?” She tapped some keys on her computer and looked back at Jake. “I don’t show anyone with that name working in your department.”

Jake remembered that Emily Miracle had said there’d been an error on her name tag. He rubbed his hand across his forehead, momentarily closing his eyes as he tried to remember the name she’d mentioned. “It starts with an M—McKinsey, Merk, something like that.”

Gloria’s phone rang and she reached for it, holding it between her shoulder and ear as her fingers flew across the keyboard. She tried to divide her attention between Jake and the person on the line. Catching Jake’s eye, she motioned toward the computer screen, shrugged and shook her head.

Jake raised his hand and mouthed, “I’ll catch you later.”

Gloria nodded and returned her attention to the caller. Clearly she had more pressing issues to attend to just then. Jake would seek her out later that afternoon and suggest Mrs. Miracle be switched to another department. A less demanding one.

As he rushed out the door onto Thirty-fourth and headed into the still-falling snow, he decided it would be only fair to give the older woman a chance. If she managed to sell one of the robots while he collected his morning cup of java, he’d consider keeping her. And if she managed to sell two, she’d be living up to her name!

Two

If God is your copilot, trade places.

—Mrs. Miracle

Friday morning, and Holly Larson was right on schedule—even a few minutes ahead. This was a vast improvement over the past two months, ever since her eight-year-old nephew, Gabe, had come to live with her. It’d taken effort on both their parts to make this arrangement work. Mickey, Holly’s brother, had been called up by the National Guard and sent to Afghanistan for the next fifteen months. He was a widower, and with her parents doing volunteer medical work in Haiti, the only option for Gabe was to move in with Holly, who lived in a small Brooklyn apartment. Fortunately, she’d been able to turn her minuscule home office into a bedroom for Gabe.

They were doing okay, but it hadn’t been easy. Never having spent much time with children Gabe’s age, the biggest adjustment had been Holly’s—in her opinion, anyway.

Gabe might not agree, however. He didn’t think sun-dried tomatoes with fresh mozzarella cheese was a special dinner. He turned up his nose and refused even one bite. So she was learning. Boxed macaroni and cheese suited him just fine, although she couldn’t tolerate the stuff. At least it was cheap. Adding food for a growing boy to her already strained budget had been a challenge. Mickey, who was the manager of a large grocery store in his civilian life, sent what he could but he had his own financial difficulties; she knew he was still paying off his wife’s medical bills and funeral expenses. And he had a mortgage to maintain on his Trenton, New Jersey, home. Poor Gabe. The little boy had lost his mother when he was an infant. Now his father was gone, too. Holly considered herself a poor replacement for either parent, let alone both, although she was giving it her best shot.

Since she had a few minutes to spare before she was due at the office, she hurried into Starbucks to reward herself with her favorite latte. It’d been two weeks since she’d had one. A hot, freshly brewed latte was an extravagance these days, so she only bought them occasionally.

Getting Gabe to school and then hurrying to the office was as difficult as collecting him from the after-school facility at the end of the day. Lindy Lee, her boss, hadn’t taken kindly to Holly’s rushing out the instant the clock struck five. But the child-care center at Gabe’s school charged by the minute when she was late. By the minute.

Stepping out of the cold into the warmth of the coffee shop, Holly breathed in the pungent scent of fresh coffee. A cheery evergreen swag was draped across the display case. She dared not look because she had a weakness for cranberry scones. She missed her morning ritual of a latte and a scone almost as much as she did her independence. But giving it up was a small sacrifice if it meant she could help her brother and Gabe. Not only that, she’d come to adore her young nephew and, despite everything, knew she’d miss him when her brother returned.

The line moved quickly, and she placed her order for a skinny latte with vanilla flavoring. The man behind her ordered a large coffee. He smiled at her and Holly smiled back. She’d seen him in this Starbucks before, although they’d never spoken.

“Merry Christmas,” she said.

“Same to you.”

The girl at the cash register told Holly her total and she opened her purse to pay. That was when she remembered—she’d given the last of her cash to Gabe for lunch money. It seemed ridiculous to use a credit card for such a small amount, but she didn’t have any choice. She took out her card and handed it to the barista. The young woman slid it through the machine, then leaned forward and whispered, “It’s been declined.”

Hot embarrassment reddened her face. She’d maxed out her card the month before but thought her payment would’ve been credited by now. Scrambling, she searched for coins in the bottom of her purse. It didn’t take her long to realize she didn’t have nearly enough change to cover the latte. “I have a debit card in here someplace,” she muttered, grabbing her card case again.

“Excuse me.” The good-looking man behind her pulled his wallet from his hip pocket.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to meet his eyes. This was embarrassing, humiliating, downright mortifying.

“Allow me to pay for your latte,” he said.

Holly sent him a shocked look. “You don’t need to do that.”

The woman standing behind him frowned impatiently at Holly. “If I’m going to get to work on time, he does.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Not waiting for her to agree, the stranger stepped forward and paid for both her latte and his coffee.

“Thank you,” she said in a low, strangled voice.

“I’ll consider it my good deed for the day.”

“I’ll pay for your coffee the next time I see you.”

He grinned. “You’ve got a deal.” He moved down to the end of the counter, where she went to wait for her latte. “I’m Jake Finley.”

“Holly Larson.” She extended her hand.

“Holly,” he repeated.

“People assume I was born around Christmas but I wasn’t. Actually, I was born in June and named after my mother’s favorite aunt,” she said. She didn’t know why she’d blurted out such ridiculous information. Perhaps because she still felt embarrassed and was trying to disguise her chagrin with conversation. “I do love Christmas, though, don’t you?”

“Not particularly.” Frowning, he glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Oh, sure. Thank you again.” He’d been thoughtful and generous.

“See you soon,” Jake said as he turned toward the door.

“I owe you,” she said. “I won’t forget.”

He smiled at her. “I hope I’ll run into you again.”

“That would be great.” She meant it, and next time she’d make sure she had enough cash to treat him. She felt a glow of pleasure as Jake left Starbucks.

Holly stopped to calculate—it’d been more than three months since her last date. That was pitiful! Three months. Nuns had a more active social life than she did.

Her last relationship had been with Bill Carter. For a while it had seemed promising. As a divorced father, Bill was protective and caring toward his young son. Holly had only met Billy once. Unfortunately, the trip to the Central Park Zoo hadn’t gone well. Billy had been whiny and overtired, and Bill had seemed to want her to deal with the boy. She’d tried but Billy didn’t know her and she didn’t know him, and the entire outing had been strained and uncomfortable. Holly had tried—unsuccessfully—to make the trip as much fun as possible. Shortly thereafter, Bill called to tell her their relationship wasn’t “working” for him. He’d made a point of letting her know he was interested in finding someone more “suitable” for his son because he didn’t feel she’d make a good mother. His words had stung.

Holly hadn’t argued. Really, how could she? Her one experience with Billy had been a disaster. Then, just a month after Bill’s heartless comment, Gabe had entered her life. These days she was more inclined to agree with Bill’s assessment of her parenting skills. She didn’t seem to have what it took to raise a child, which deeply concerned her.

Things were getting easier with Gabe, but progress had been slow, and it didn’t help that her nephew seemed to sense her unease. She had a lot to learn about being an effective and nurturing parent.

Dating Bill had been enjoyable enough, but there’d never been much chemistry between them, so not seeing him wasn’t a huge loss. She categorized it as more of a disappointment. A letdown. His parting words, however, had left her with doubts and regrets.

Carrying her latte, Holly walked the three blocks to the office. She actually arrived a minute early. Working as an assistant to a fashion designer sounded glamorous but it wasn’t. She didn’t get to take home designer purses for a fraction of their retail price—except for the knockoff versions she could buy on the street—or acquire fashion-model hand-me-downs.

She was paid a pittance and had become the go-to person for practically everyone on staff, and that added up to at least forty people. Her boss, Lindy Lee, was often unreasonable. Unfortunately, most of the time it was Holly’s job to make sure that whatever Lindy wanted actually happened. Lindy wasn’t much older than Holly, but she was well connected in the fashion world and had quickly risen to the top. Because her work as a designer of upscale women’s sportswear was in high demand, Lindy Lee frequently worked under impossible deadlines. One thing was certain; she had no tolerance for the fact that Holly now had to stick to her official nine-to-five schedule, which meant her job as Lindy Lee’s assistant might be in jeopardy. She’d explained the situation with Gabe, but her boss didn’t care about Holly’s problems at home.

Rushing to her desk, Holly set the latte down, shrugged off her coat and readied herself for the day. She was responsible for decorating the office for Christmas, and so far, there just hadn’t been time. On Saturday she’d bring Gabe into the office and the two of them would get it done. That meant her own apartment would have to wait, but...oh, well.

Despite her boss’s complaints about one thing or another, Holly’s smile stayed in place all morning. A kind deed by a virtual stranger buffered her from four hours of commands, criticism and complaints.

Jack...no, Jake. He’d said his name was Jake, and he was cute, too. Maybe handsome was a more accurate description. Classically handsome, like those 1940s movie stars in the old films she loved. Tall, nicely trimmed dark hair, broad shoulders, expressive eyes and...probably married. She’d been too shocked by his generosity to see whether he had a wedding band. Yeah, he was probably taken. Par for the course, she thought a little glumly. Holly was thirty, but being single at that age wasn’t uncommon among her friends. Her parents seemed more worried about it than she was.

Most of her girlfriends didn’t even think about settling down until after they turned thirty. Holly knew she wanted a husband and eventually a family. What she hadn’t expected was becoming a sole parent to Gabe. This time with her nephew was like a dress rehearsal for being a mother, her friends told her. Unfortunately, there weren’t any lines to memorize and the script changed almost every day.

At lunch she heated her Cup-a-Soup in the microwave and logged on to the internet to check for messages from Mickey. Her brother kept in touch with Gabe every day and sent her a quick note whenever he could. Sure enough, there was an email waiting for her.

From: “Lieutenant Mickey Larson” <larsonmichael@goarmy.com>

To: “Holly Larson”<hollylarson@msm.com>

Sent: December 10

Subject: Gabe’s email

Hi, sis,

Gabe’s last note to me was hilarious. What’s this about you making him put down the toilet seat? He thinks girls should do it themselves. This is what happens when men live together. The seat’s perpetually up.

Has he told you what he wants for Christmas yet? He generally mentions a toy before now, but he’s been suspiciously quiet about it this year. Let me know when he drops his hints.

I wish I could be with you both, but that’s out of the question. Next year for sure.

I know it’s been rough on you having to fit Gabe into your apartment and your life, but I have no idea what I would’ve done without you.

By the way, I heard from Mom and Dad. The dental clinic Dad set up is going well. Who’d have guessed our parents would be doing volunteer work after retirement? They send their love...but now that I think about it, you got the same email as me, didn’t you? They both sound happy but really busy. Mom was concerned about you taking Gabe, but she seems reassured now.

Well, I better get some shut-eye. Not to worry—I reminded Gabe that when he’s staying at a house with a woman living in it, the correct thing to do is put down the toilet seat.

Check in with you later.

Thank you again for everything.

Love,

Mickey

Holly read the message twice, then sent him a note. She’d always been close to her brother and admired him for picking up the pieces of his life after Sally died of a rare blood disease. Gabe hadn’t even been a year old. Holly had a lot more respect for the demands of parenthood—and especially single parenthood—now that Gabe lived with her.

At five o’clock, she was out the door. Lindy Lee threw her an evil look, which Holly pretended not to see. She caught the subway and had to stand, holding tight to one of the poles, for the whole rush-hour ride into Brooklyn.

As she was lurched and jolted on the train, her mind wandered back to Mickey’s email. Gabe hadn’t said anything about Christmas to her, either. And yet he had to know that the holidays were almost upon them; all the decorations in the neighborhood and the ads on TV made it hard to miss. For the first time in his life, Gabe wouldn’t be spending Christmas with his father and grandparents. This year, there’d be just the two of them. Maybe he’d rather not celebrate until his father came home, she thought. That didn’t seem right, though. Holly was determined to make this the best Christmas possible.

Not once had Gabe told her what he wanted. She wondered whether she should ask him, maybe encourage him to write Santa a letter—did he still believe in Santa?—or try to guess what he might like. Her other question was what she could buy on a limited income. A toy? She knew next to nothing about toys, especially the kind that would intrigue an eight-year-old boy. She felt besieged by even more insecurities.

She stepped off the subway, climbed the stairs to the street and hurried to Gabe’s school, which housed the after-hours activity program set up for working parents. At least it wasn’t snowing anymore. Which was a good thing, since she’d forgotten to make Gabe wear his boots that morning.

What happened the first day she’d gone to collect Gabe still made her cringe. She’d been thirty-two minutes late. The financial penalty was steep and cut into her carefully planned budget, but that didn’t bother her nearly as much as the look on Gabe’s face.

He must have assumed she’d abandoned him. His haunted expression brought her to the edge of tears every time she thought about it. That was the same night she’d prepared her favorite dinner for him—another disaster. Now she knew better and kept an unending supply of hot dogs—God help them both—plus boxes of macaroni and cheese. He’d deign to eat carrot sticks and bananas, but those were his only concessions, no matter how much she talked about balanced nutrition. He found it hilarious to claim that the relish he slathered on his hot dogs was a “vegetable.”

She waited by the row of hooks, each marked with a child’s name. Gabe ran over the instant he saw her, his face bright with excitement. “I made a new friend!”

“That’s great.” Thankfully Gabe appeared to have adjusted well to his new school and teacher.

“Billy!” he called. “Come and meet my aunt Holly.”

Holly’s smile froze. This wasn’t just any Billy. It was Bill Carter, Junior, son of the man who’d broken up with her three months earlier.

“Hello, Billy,” she said, wondering if he’d recognize her.

The boy gazed up at her quizzically. Apparently he didn’t. Or maybe he did remember her but wasn’t sure when they’d met. Either way, Holly was relieved.

“Can I go over to Billy’s house?” Gabe asked. The two boys linked arms like long-lost brothers.

“Ah, when?” she hedged. Seeing Bill again would be difficult. Holly wasn’t eager to talk to the man who’d dumped her—especially considering why. It would be uncomfortable for both of them.

“I want him to come tonight,” Billy said. “My dad’s making sloppy joes. And we’ve got marshmallow ice cream for dessert.”

“Well...” Her meals could hardly compete with that—not if you were an eight-year-old boy. Personally, Holly couldn’t think of a less appetizing combination.

Before she could come up with a response, Gabe tugged at her sleeve. “Billy doesn’t have a mom, either,” he told her.

“I have a mom,” Billy countered, “only she doesn’t live with us anymore.”

“My mother’s in heaven with the angels,” Gabe said. “I live with my dad, too, ’cept he’s in Afghanistan now.”

“So that’s why you’re staying with your aunt Holly.” Billy nodded.

“Yeah.” Gabe reached for his jacket and backpack.

“I’m sorry, Billy,” she finally managed to say, “but Gabe and I already have plans for tonight.”

Gabe whirled around. “We do?”

“We’re going shopping,” she said, thinking on her feet.

Gabe scowled and crossed his arms. “I hate shopping.”

“You won’t this time,” she promised and helped him put on his winter jacket, along with his hat and mitts.

“Yes, I will,” Gabe insisted, his head lowered.

“You and Billy can have a playdate later,” she said, forcing herself to speak cheerfully.

“When?” Billy asked, unwilling to let the matter drop.

“How about next week?” She’d call or email Bill so it wouldn’t come as a big shock when she showed up on his doorstep.

“Okay,” Billy agreed.

“That suit you?” Holly asked Gabe. She wanted to leave now, just in case Bill was picking up his son today. She recalled that their housekeeper usually did this—but why take chances? Bill was the very last person she wanted to see.

Gabe shrugged, unhappy with the compromise. He let her take his hand as they left the school, but as soon as they were outdoors, he promptly snatched it away.

“Where are we going shopping?” he asked, still pouting as they headed in the opposite direction of her apartment building. The streetlights glowed and she saw Christmas decorations in apartment windows—wreaths, small potted trees and strings of colored lights. So far Holly hadn’t done anything. Perhaps this weekend she’d find time to put up their tree—after she’d finished decorating the office, of course.

“I thought we’d go see Santa this evening,” Holly announced.

“Santa?” He raised his head and eyed her speculatively.

“Would you like that?”

Gabe seemed to need a moment to consider the question. “I guess.”

Holly assumed he was past the age of believing in Santa but wasn’t quite ready to admit it, for fear of losing out on extra gifts. Still, she didn’t feel she could ask him. “I want you to hold my hand while we’re on the subway, okay?”

“Okay,” he said in a grumpy voice.

They’d go to Finley’s, she decided. She knew for sure that the store had a Santa. Besides, she wanted to look at the windows with their festive scenes and moving parts. Even in his current mood, Gabe would enjoy them, Holly thought. And so would she.

Three

Exercise daily—walk with the Lord.

—Mrs. Miracle

It was the second Friday in December and the streets were crowded with shoppers and tourists. As they left the subway, Holly kept a close watch on Gabe, terrified of becoming separated. She heaved a sigh of relief when they reached Finley’s Department Store. The big display windows in the front of the fourteen-story structure were cleverly decorated. One showed a Santa’s workshop scene, including animated elves wielding hammers and saws. Another was a mirrored pond that had teddy bears skating around and around. Still another, the window closest to the doors, featured a huge Christmas tree, circled by a toy train running on its own miniature track. The boxcars were filled with gaily wrapped gifts.

With the crowds pressing against them, Gabe and Holly moved from window to window, stopping at the final one. “Isn’t that a great train set?” she asked.

Gabe nodded.

“Would you like one of those for Christmas?” she murmured. “You could ask Santa.”

Gabe glanced up at her. “There’s something else I want more.”

“Okay, you can tell Santa that,” she said.

They headed into the store, and had difficulty getting through the revolving doors, crushed in with other shoppers. “Can we go home and have dinner when we’re done seeing Santa?” Gabe asked.

“Of course. What would you like?”

If he said hot dogs or macaroni and cheese Holly promised herself she wouldn’t scream.

“Mashed potatoes with gravy and meat loaf with lots of ketchup.”

That would take a certain amount of effort but was definitely something she could do. “You got it.”

Gabe cast her one of his rare smiles, and Holly placed her hand on his shoulder. This was progress.

The ground floor of Finley’s was crammed. The men’s department was to the right and the cosmetics and perfume counters directly ahead. Holly inched her way forward, Gabe close by her side.

“We need to get to the escalator,” she told him, steering the boy in that direction. She hoped that once they got up to the third floor, the crowds would have thinned out, at least a little.

“Okay.” He voluntarily slipped his hand in hers.

More progress. Visiting Santa had clearly been a stroke of genius on her part.

Her guess about the crowds was accurate. When they reached the third floor Holly felt she could breathe again. If it wasn’t for Gabe, she wouldn’t come within ten miles of Thirty-fourth on a Friday night in December.

“Santa’s over there,” Gabe said, pointing.

The kid obviously had Santa Claus radar. Several spry elves in green tights and pointy hats surrounded the jolly old man in the red suit. This guy was good, too. His full white beard was real. He must’ve just gotten off break because he wore a huge smile.

The visit to Santa was free but for an extra twenty dollars, she could buy a picture. They’d stopped at an ATM on their way to the subway and she’d gotten cash. Although she couldn’t help feeling a twinge at spending the money, a photo of Gabe with Santa would be the perfect Christmas gift for Mickey.

The line moved quickly. Gabe seemed excited and happy, chattering away about this and that, and his mood infected Holly. She hadn’t felt much like Christmas until now. Classic carols rang through the store and soon Holly was humming along.

When it was Gabe’s turn, he hopped onto Santa’s knee as if the two of them were old friends.

“Hello there, young man,” Santa said, adding a “Ho, ho, ho.”

“Hello.” Gabe looked him square in the eyes.

“And what would you like Santa to bring you?” the jolly old fellow inquired.

Her nephew didn’t hesitate. “All I want for Christmas is Telly the SuperRobot.”

What in heaven’s name was that? A robot? Even without checking, Holly knew this wasn’t going to be a cheap toy. A train set—a small one—she could manage, but an electronic toy was probably out of her price range.

“Very well, young man, Santa will see what he can do. Anything else you’re interested in?”

“A train set,” Gabe said, his eyes serious. “But I really want Intellytron.”

“Intellytron,” Holly muttered to herself.

Santa gestured at the camera. “Now smile big for me, and your mom can collect the photograph in five minutes.”

“Okay.” Gabe gave Santa a huge smile, then slid off his knee so the next child in line could have a turn. It took Holly a moment to realize that Gabe hadn’t corrected Santa about who she was.

Holly went around to the counter behind Santa’s chair to wait for the photograph, accompanied by Gabe.

“I don’t know where Santa will find one of those robots,” she said, trying to get as much information as she could.

“All the stores have them,” Gabe assured her. “Billy wants an Intellytron, too.”

So she could blame Billy for this sudden desire. But since this was the only toy Gabe wanted, she’d do her best to make sure that Intellytron the SuperRobot would be wrapped and under the tree Christmas morning.

“Maybe I should see what this robot friend of yours looks like,” she suggested. A huge sign pointing to the toy department was strategically placed near Santa’s residence. This, Holly felt certain, was no coincidence.

“Toys are this way,” Gabe said, leading her by the hand.

Holly dutifully followed. “What if they don’t have the robot?” she asked.

“They will,” he said with sublime confidence.

“But what if they don’t?”

Gabe frowned and then tilted his chin at a thoughtful angle. “Can Santa bring my dad home?”

Holly’s heart sank. “Not this year, sweetheart.”

“Then all I really want is my robot.”

She’d been afraid of that.

They entered the toy department and were met by a grandmotherly woman with a name badge that identified her as Mrs. Emily Miracle.

“Why, hello there,” the woman greeted Gabe with a smile.

Gabe immediately smiled back at her. “Hello.”

“I see you’ve been to visit Santa.” She nodded at the photo Holly was holding.

“Yup,” Gabe said happily. “He was nice.”

“Did you tell Santa what you want for Christmas?”

“Intellytron the SuperRobot,” he replied.

“Telly is a wonderful toy. Let me show you one.”

“Please,” Holly said, hoping against hope that the robot was reasonably priced. If fate was truly with her, it would also be on sale.

Mrs. Miracle took them to a display on the other side of the department, directly across from the elevator. The robots would be the first toys seen by those stepping off. She wondered why they weren’t by the escalator, but then it dawned on her. Mothers with young children usually came up via elevator. The manager of this department was no dummy.

“Look!” Gabe said, his eyes huge. “It’s Telly! He’s here. I told you he would be. Isn’t he the best ever?”

“Would you like to see how he works?” the grandmotherly saleswoman asked.

“Yes, please.”

Holly was impressed by Gabe’s politeness, which she’d never seen to quite this degree. Well, it was December, and this was the one toy he wanted more than any other. The saleswoman took down the display model and started to demonstrate it when a male voice caught Holly’s attention.

“Hello again.”

She turned to face Jake, the man she’d met in Starbucks that morning. For a moment she couldn’t speak. Eventually she croaked out a subdued hello.

He looked curiously at Gabe. “Your son?”

“My nephew,” she said, recovering her voice. “Gabe’s living with me for the next year while his father’s in Afghanistan.”

“Nephew,” he repeated, and his eyes sparked with renewed interest.

“I brought Gabe here to visit Santa and he said that what he wants for Christmas is Intellytron the SuperRobot.”

“An excellent choice. Would you like me to wrap one for you now?”

“Ah...” Holly paused. “I need to know how much they are first.” Just looking at the toy told her she wasn’t getting off cheap.

“Two hundred and fifty dollars.”

Holly’s hand flew to her heart. “How much?”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars.”

“Oh.” She swallowed. “Will there be a sale on these later? A big sale?”

Jake shook his head. “I doubt it.”

“Oh,” she said again.

Jake seemed disappointed, too.

Holly bit her lip. This was the only gift Gabe had requested. He’d indicated mild interest in a train set, but that was more at her instigation. Watching his eyes light up as the robot maneuvered itself down the aisle filled her with a sense of delight. He loved this toy and it would mean so much to him. “I get my Christmas bonus at the end of next week. Will you still have the robot then?” Never mind that Lindy Lee might be less than generous this year....

“We should have plenty,” Jake told her.

“Thank goodness,” Holly said gratefully.

“We’ve sold a number today, but I brought in a large supply so you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Wonderful.” She could hardly wait for Gabe to unwrap this special gift Christmas morning. Tonight, the spirit of Christmas had finally begun to take root in her own heart. Seeing the joy of the season in Gabe’s eyes helped her accept that this year would be different but could still be good. Although she and Gabe were separated from their family, she intended to make it a Christmas the two of them would always remember.

“I want to thank you again for buying my latte this morning,” she said to Jake. She was about to suggest she pay him back, because she had the cash now, but hesitated, hoping for the opportunity to return the favor and spend more time with him.

“Like I said, it was my good deed for the day.”

“Do you often purchase a complete stranger a cup of coffee?”

“You’re the first.”

She laughed. “Then I’m doubly honored.”

“Aunt Holly, did you see? Did you see Telly move?” Gabe asked, dashing to her side. “He can talk, too!”

She’d been so involved in chatting with Jake that she’d missed most of the demonstration. Other children had come over to the aisle, drawn by the robot’s activities; in fact, a small crowd had formed to watch. Several boys Gabe’s age were tugging at their parents’ arms.

“We’ll have to see what Santa brings,” Holly told him.

“He’ll bring me Telly, won’t he?”

Holly shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

“How many days until Christmas?” Gabe asked eagerly.

“Today’s the tenth, so...fifteen days.”

“That long?” He dragged out the words as if he could barely hang on all those weeks.

“The time will fly by, Gabe. I promise.”

“Excuse me,” Jake said as he turned to answer a customer’s question. Her query was about the price of the robot, and the woman had nearly the same reaction as Holly. Two hundred and fifty dollars! A lot of money for a toy. Still, in Gabe’s case it would be worth it.

Mrs. Miracle brought out the display robot to demonstrate again, and Gabe and a second youngster watched with rapt attention. The older woman was a marvel, a natural with children.

“So, you’re the manager here,” Holly said once Jake was free.

He nodded. “How’d you guess?” he asked with a grin.

“Your badge, among other things.” She smiled back at him. “I was just thinking how smart you were to place Santa next to the toy section.”

“That wasn’t my idea,” Jake said. “Santa’s been in that location for years.”

“What about the Intellytron display across from the elevator?”

“Now that was my idea.”

“I thought as much.”

Jake seemed pleased that she’d noticed. “I’m hoping it really takes off.”

“Well, if Gabe’s interest is any indication, I’m sure it will.”

He seemed to appreciate her vote of confidence.

“Look!” Gabe said, grabbing Holly’s hand. He pointed to a couple who were removing a boxed unit of Intellytron from the display. “My robot will still be here by Christmas, won’t he?”

“Absolutely,” she assured him.

Jake winked at her as Mrs. Miracle led the young couple toward the cash register.

“Hiring Mrs. Miracle was a smart move, too,” she said.

“Oh, I can’t really take credit for that,” Jake responded.

“Well, you’re lucky, then. She’s exactly right for the toy department. It’s like having someone’s grandmother here. She’s helping parents fulfill all their children’s Christmas wishes.”

Jake glanced at the older woman, then slowly nodded. “I guess so,” he said, sounding a bit uncertain.

“Haven’t you seen the way kids immediately take to her?” Holly asked.

“Not only can’t I take credit for her being here, it’s actually a mistake.”

“A mistake,” Holly echoed. “You’re joking! She’s perfect. It wouldn’t surprise me if you sold out the whole toy department with her working here.”

“Really?” He said this as if Holly had given him something to think about.

“I love her name, too. Mrs. Miracle—it has such a nice Christmas sound.”

“That’s a mistake, as well. Her name’s not really Miracle. HR spelled it wrong on her badge, and I asked that it be corrected.”

“Oh, let her keep the badge,” Holly urged. “Mrs. Miracle. It couldn’t be more appropriate.”

Jake nodded again. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Mrs. Miracle finished the sale and joined them. “Very nice meeting you, Gabe and Holly,” she said warmly.

Holly didn’t remember giving the older woman her name. Gabe must have mentioned it.

“You, too, Emily,” she said.

“Oh, please,” she said with a charming smile. “Just call me Mrs. Miracle.”

“Okay,” Gabe piped up. “We will.”

Four

Lead me not into temptation.

I can find the way myself.

—J. R. Finley

“I thought we’d bake cookies today,” Holly said on Saturday morning as Gabe sat at the kitchen counter eating his breakfast cereal. When he didn’t think she was looking, he picked up the bowl and slurped what was left of his milk.

“Cookies?” Gabe said, frowning. “Can’t we just buy them?”

“We could,” Holly answered, “but I figured it would be fun to bake them ourselves.”

Gabe didn’t seem convinced. “Dad and I always got ours at the store. We never had to work to get them.”

“But it’s fun,” Holly insisted, unwilling to give up quite so easily. “You can roll out the dough. I even have special cookie cutters. After the cookies are baked and they’ve cooled down, we can frost and decorate them.” She’d hoped this Christmas tradition would appeal to Gabe.

He slid down from his chair and carried his bowl to the dishwasher. “Can I go on the computer?”

“Sure.” Holly made an effort to hide her disappointment. She’d really hoped the two of them would bond while they were baking Christmas cookies. Later, she intended to go into the office and put up decorations—with Gabe’s help. She wanted that to be fun for him, too.

Gabe moved to the alcove between the kitchen and small living room with its sofa and television. Holly was astonished at how adept the eight-year-old was on the computer. While he logged on, she brought out the eggs and flour and the rest of the ingredients for sugar cookies and set them on the kitchen counter.

Gabe obviously didn’t realize she could see the computer screen from her position. She was pleased that he was writing his father a note.

From: “Gabe Larson”<gabelarson@msm.com>

To: “Lieutenant Mickey Larson” <larsonmichael@goarmy.com>

Sent: December 11

Subject: Cookies

Hi, Dad,

Guess what? Aunt Holly wants me to bake cookies. Doesn’t she know I’m a BOY? Boys don’t bake cookies. It’s bad enough that I have to put the toilet seat down for her. I hope you get home soon because I’m afraid she’s going to turn me into a girl!

Gabe

Holly tried to conceal her smile. “Would you like to go into the city this afternoon?” she asked as she added the butter she’d cubed to the sugar in the mixing bowl.

Gabe turned around to look at her. “You aren’t going to make me go shopping, are you?”

“No. I’ll take you to my office. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Yes,” he said halfheartedly.

“I have to put up a few decorations. You can help me.”

“Okay.” Again he showed a decided lack of enthusiasm.

“The Rockefeller Center Christmas tree is up,” she told him next.

Now that caught his interest. “Can we go ice-skating?”

“Ah...” Holly had never gone skating. “Maybe another time, okay?”

Gabe shrugged. “Okay. I bet Billy and his dad will take me.”

The kid had no idea how much that comment irritated her. However, Holly knew she had to be an adult about it. She hadn’t phoned Bill to discuss the fact that his son and her nephew were friends. She would, though, in order to arrange a playdate for the two boys.

“I thought we’d leave after lunch,” she said, resuming their original conversation.

“Okay.” Gabe returned to the computer and was soon involved in a game featuring beasts in some alien kingdom. Whatever it was held his attention for the next ten minutes.

Using the electric mixer, Holly blended the sugar, butter and eggs and was about to add the dry ingredients when Gabe climbed up on the stool beside her.

“I’ve never seen anyone make cookies before,” he said.

“You can watch if you want.” She made an effort to sound matter-of-fact, not revealing how pleased she was at his interest.

“When we go into the city, would it be all right if we went to Finley’s?” he asked.

Holly looked up. “I suppose so. Any particular reason?”

He stared at her as if it should be obvious. “I want to see Telly. He can do all kinds of tricks and stuff, and maybe Mrs. Miracle will be there.”

“Oh.”

“Mrs. Miracle said I could stop by anytime I want and she’d let me work the controls. She said they don’t normally let kids play with the toys but she’d make an exception.” He drew in a deep breath. “What’s an ‘exception’?”

“It means she’ll allow you to do it even though other people can’t.”

“That’s what I thought.” He leaned forward and braced his elbows on the counter, nodding solemnly at this evidence of his elevated status—at least in Mrs. Miracle’s view.

As soon as the dough was mixed, Holly covered it with plastic wrap and put it inside the refrigerator to chill. When she’d finished, she cleaned off the kitchen counter. “You want to lick the beaters?” she asked.

Gabe straightened and looked skeptically at the mixer. “You can do that?”

“Sure. That’s one of the best parts of baking cookies.”

“Okay.”

She handed him one beater and took the second herself.

Gabe’s eyes widened after his first lick. “Hey, this tastes good.”

“Told you,” she said with a smug smile.

“Why can’t we just eat the dough? Why ruin cookies by baking ’em?”

“Well, they’re not cookies unless you bake them.”

“Oh.”

Her response seemed to satisfy him.

“I’m going to roll the dough out in a few minutes. Would you help me decide which cookie cutters to use?”

“I guess.” Gabe didn’t display a lot of enthusiasm at the request.

Holly stood on tiptoe to take down the plastic bag she kept on the upper kitchen shelf. “Your grandma Larson gave these to me last year. When your dad and I were your age, we used to make sugar cookies.”

Gabe sat up straighter. “You mean my dad baked cookies?”

“Every Christmas. After we decorated them, we chose special people to give them to.”

Gabe was always interested in learning facts about Mickey. Every night he asked Holly to tell him a story about his father as a boy. She’d run out of stories, but it didn’t matter; Gabe liked hearing them again and again.

“You gave the cookies to special people? Like who?”

“Well...” Holly had to think about that. “Once I brought a plate of cookies to my Sunday school teacher and one year—” she paused and smiled “—I was twelve and had a crush on a boy in my class, so I brought the cookies to school for him.”

“Who’d my dad give the cookies to?”

“I don’t remember. You’ll have to ask him.”

“I will.” Gabe propped his chin on one hand. “Can I take a plate of cookies to Mrs. Miracle?”

Holly was about to tell him that would be a wonderful idea, then hesitated. “The problem is, if I baked the cookies and decorated them, they’d be from me and not from you.”

Gabe frowned. “I could help with cutting them out and stuff. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t want any of my friends to think I’m a sissy.”

She crossed her heart. “I promise not to say a word.”

“Okay, then, I’ll do it.” Gabe dug into the bag of cookie cutters and made his selections, removing the Christmas tree, the star and several others. Then, as if a thought had suddenly struck him, he pointed at her apron. “I don’t have to put on one of those, do I?”

“You don’t like my apron?”

“They’re okay for girls, but not boys.”

“You don’t have to wear one if you’d rather not.”

He shook his head adamantly.

“But you might get flour on your clothes, and your friends would guess you were baking.” This was a clever argument, if she did say so herself.

Gabe nibbled on his lower lip, apparently undecided. “Then I’ll change clothes. I’m not wearing any girlie apron.”

“That’s fine,” Holly said, grinning.

The rest of the morning was spent baking and decorating cookies. Once he got started, Gabe appeared to enjoy himself. He frosted the Christmas tree with green icing and sprinkled red sugar over it.

Then, with a sideways glance at Holly, he promptly ate the cookie. She let him assume she hadn’t noticed.

“Who are you giving your cookies to?” Gabe asked.

Actually, Holly hadn’t thought about it. “I’m not sure.” A heartbeat later, the decision was made. “Jake.”

“The man in the toy department at Finley’s?”

Holly nodded. “He did something kind for me on Friday. He bought my coffee.”

Gabe cocked his head. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Oh, no. But he’s very nice and I want to repay him.” She got two plastic plates and, together, they arranged the cookies. Holly bundled each plate in green-tinted cellophane wrap and added silver bows for a festive look.

“You ready to head into town?” she asked.

Gabe raced into his bedroom for his coat, hat and mittens. “I’m ready.”

“Me, too.” The truth was, Holly felt excited about seeing Jake again. Of course, there was always the possibility that he wouldn’t be working today—but she had to admit she hoped he was. Her reaction surprised her; since Bill had broken off their relationship she’d been reluctant to even consider dating someone new.

Meeting Jake had been an unexpected bonus. He’d been so— She stopped abruptly. Here she was, doing it again. Jake had paid for her coffee. He was obviously a generous man... or he might’ve been in a rush to get back to the store. Either way, he’d been kind to her. But that didn’t mean he was attracted to her. In reality it meant nada. Zilch. Zip. Gazing down at the plate of cookies, Holly felt she might be pushing this too far.

“Aunt Holly?”

She looked at her nephew, who was staring quizzically at her. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Oh, sorry... No, nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking maybe I should give these cookies to someone else.”

“How come?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Give them to Jake,” Gabe said without a second’s doubt. “Didn’t you say he bought your coffee?”

“He did.” Gabe was right. The cookies were simply a way of thanking him. That was all. She was returning a kindness. With her quandary settled, they walked over to the subway station.

When they arrived at Finley’s, the streets and the store were even more crowded than they’d been the night before. Again Holly kept a close eye on her nephew. She’d made a contingency plan—if they did happen to get separated, they were to meet in the toy department by the robots.

They rode up on the escalator, after braving the cosmetics aisles, with staff handing out perfume samples. Gabe held his nose, but Holly was delighted to accept several tiny vials of perfume. When they finally reached the toy department, it was far busier than it had been the previous evening. Both Gabe and Holly studied the display of robots. There did seem to be fewer of the large boxes, but Jake had assured her there’d be plenty left by the time she received her Christmas bonus. She sincerely hoped that was true.

The moment Gabe saw Mrs. Miracle, he rushed to her side. “We made you sugar cookies,” he said, giving her the plate.

“Oh, my, these are lovely.” The grandmotherly woman smiled. “They look good enough to eat.”

“You are supposed to eat them,” Gabe said with a giggle.

“And I will.” She bent down and hugged the boy. “Thank you so much.”

Gabe whispered, “Don’t tell anyone, but I helped Aunt Holly make them.”

Holly was standing close enough to hear him and exchanged a smile with Mrs. Miracle.

“You should be proud of that,” Mrs. Miracle said as she led him toward the Intellytron display, holding the plate of cookies aloft. “Lots of men cook. You should have your aunt Holly turn on the Food Network so you see for yourself.”

“Men bake cookies?”

“Oh, my, yes,” she told him. “Now that you’re here, why don’t we go and show these other children how to work this special robot. You can be my assistant.”

“Can I?” Wide-eyed, Gabe looked at Holly for permission.

She nodded, and Mrs. Miracle and Gabe went to the other side of the toy department. Holly noticed that Jake was busy with customers, so she wandered down a randomly chosen aisle, examining the Barbie dolls and all their accoutrements. She felt a bit foolish carrying a plate of decorated cookies.

As soon as he was free, Jake made a beeline toward her. “Hi,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“Hi.” Looking away, she tried to explain the reason for her visit. “Gabe wanted to check out his robot again. After that, we’re going to my office and then Rockefeller Center to see the Christmas tree...but we decided to come here first.” The words tumbled out so quickly she wondered if he’d understood a thing she’d said.

He glanced at the cookies.

“These are for you,” she said, shoving the plate in his direction. “Sugar cookies. In appreciation for my latte.”

“Homemade sugar cookies,” he murmured as if he’d never seen anything like them before.

He continued to stare at the plate for an awkward moment. Holly was afraid she’d committed a social faux pas.

“My mother used to bake sugar cookies every Christmas,” Jake finally said. His eyes narrowed, and the memory seemed to bring him pain.

Holly had the absurd notion that she should apologize.

“I remember the star and the bell.” He spoke in a low voice, as though transported through the years. “Oh, and look, that one’s a reindeer, and of course the Christmas tree with the little cinnamon candies as ornaments.”

“Gabe actually decorated that one,” she said.

He looked up and his smile banished all doubt. “Thank you, Holly.”

“You’re welcome, Jake.”

“Excuse me.” A woman spoke from behind Holly. “Is there someone here who could show me the electronic games?”

Jake seemed reluctant to leave her, and Holly was loath to see him go. “I’ll be happy to help you,” he said. He set the cookies behind the counter and escorted the woman to another section of the department.

Holly moved to the area where Gabe and Mrs. Miracle were demonstrating Intellytron. A small crowd had gathered, and Gabe’s face shone with happiness as he put the robot through its paces. In all the weeks her nephew had lived with her, she’d never seen him so excited, so fully engaged. She knew Gabe wanted this toy for Christmas; what Holly hadn’t understood until this very second was just how much it meant to him.

Regardless of the cost, Holly intended to get her nephew that robot.

Holiday Sugar Cookies

(from Debbie Macomber’s Cedar Cove Cookbook)

This foolproof sugar cookie recipe makes a sturdy, sweet treat that’s a perfect gift or a great addition to a holiday cookie platter.

* * *

2 cups (4 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature

2 cups brown sugar

2 large eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla extract or grated lemon peel

6 cups all-purpose flour, plus extra for rolling

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

* * *

1 In a large bowl with electric mixer on medium speed, cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs and vanilla; beat until combined.

2 In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking powder and salt. Reduce mixer speed to low; beat in flour mixture just until combined. Shape dough into two disks; wrap and refrigerate at least 2 hours or up to overnight.

3 Preheat oven to 350ºF. Line baking sheets with parchment paper. Remove 1 dough disk from the refrigerator. Cut disk in half; cover remaining half. On a lightly floured surface with floured rolling pin, roll dough 1⁄4-inch thick. Using cookie cutters, cut dough into as many cookies as possible; reserve trimmings for rerolling.

4 Place cookies on prepared sheets about 1 inch apart. Bake 10 to 12 minutes (depending on the size of cookies) until pale gold. Transfer to wire rack to cool. Repeat with remaining dough and rerolled scraps.

TIP: Decorate baked cookies with prepared frosting or sprinkle unbaked cookies with colored sugars before putting them in the oven.

* * *

Makes about 48 cookies.

Five

People are like tea bags—you have to drop them in hot water before you know how strong they are.

—Mrs. Miracle

“Sugar cookies,” Jake said to himself. A rush of memories warmed him. Memories of his mother and sister at Christmas. Spicy scents in the air—cinnamon and ginger and cloves. Those sensory memories had been so deeply buried, he’d all but forgotten them.

“We sold three of the SuperRobots this afternoon,” Mrs. Miracle said, breaking into his thoughts.

Just three? Jake felt a sense of dread. He’d need to sell a lot more than three a day to unload the five hundred robots he’d ordered. He checked the computer, which instantly gave him the total number sold since Black Friday. When he saw the screen, his heart sank down to his shoes. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. Jake had made a bold decision, hoping to prove himself to his father, and he was about to fall flat on his face.

“I’ll be leaving for the night,” Mrs. Miracle announced. “Karen—” the other sales associate “—is already gone.”

He glanced at his watch. Five after nine. “By all means. You’ve put in a full day.”

“So have you.”

As the owner’s son, Jake was expected to stay late. He wouldn’t ask anything of his staff that he wasn’t willing to do himself. That had been drilled into him by his father, who lived by the same rules.

“It’s a lovely night for a walk in the park, don’t you think?” the older woman said wistfully.

Jake lived directly across from Central Park. He often jogged through the grounds during the summer months, but winter was a different story.

Mrs. Miracle patted him on the back. “I appreciate that you let me stay here in the toy department,” she said.

Jake turned to look at her. He hadn’t said anything to the older woman about getting her transferred. He couldn’t imagine HR had, either. He wondered how she’d found out about his sudden decision to keep her with him. Actually, it’d been Holly’s comment about having a grandmotherly figure around that had influenced him. That, and Emily’s obvious rapport with children.

“Good night, Mrs. Miracle,” he said.

“Good night, Mr. Finley. Oh, and I don’t think you need to worry about that robot,” she said. “It’s going to do very well. Mark my words.”

Now it appeared the woman was a mind reader, too.

“I hope you’re right,” he murmured.

“I am,” she said, reaching for her purse. “And remember, this is a lovely evening for a stroll through the park. It’s an excellent way to clear your head of worries.”

Again, she’d caught him unawares. Jake had no idea he could be so easily read. Good thing he didn’t play high-stakes poker. That thought amused him as he finished up for the day and left the store.

He was grateful not to run into his father because J.R. would certainly question him about those robots. No doubt his father already knew the dismal truth; the click of a computer key would show him everything.

When Jake reached his apartment, he was hungry and restless. He unwrapped the plate of cookies and quickly ate two. If this wasn’t his mother’s recipe, then it was a very similar one. They tasted the same as the cookies he recalled from his childhood.

Standing by the picture window that overlooked the park, he remembered the Christmas his mother and sister had been killed. The shock and pain of it seemed as fresh now as it’d been all those years ago. No wonder his father still refused to celebrate the holiday. Jake couldn’t, either.

When he looked out, he noticed how brightly lit the park was. Horse-drawn carriages clattered past, and although he couldn’t hear the clopping of the horses’ hooves, it sounded in his mind as clearly as if he’d been out on the street. He suddenly saw himself with his parents and his sister, all huddled under a blanket in a carriage. The horse had been named Silver, he remembered, and the snow had drifted softly down. That was almost twenty-one years ago, the winter they’d died, and he hadn’t taken a carriage ride since.

Mrs. Miracle had suggested he go for a walk that evening. An odd idea, he thought, especially after a long day spent dealing with harried shoppers. The last thing he’d normally want to do was spend even more time on his feet. And yet he felt irresistibly attracted to the park. The cheerful lights, the elegant carriages, the man on the corner selling roasted chestnuts, drew him like a kid to a Christmas tree.

None of this made any sense. He was exhausted, doubting himself and his judgment, entangled in memories he’d rather ignore. Perhaps a swift walk would chase away the demons that hounded him.

Putting on his coat, he wrapped the cashmere scarf around his neck. George, the building doorman, opened the front door and, hunching his shoulders against the wind, Jake hurried across the street.

“Aunt Holly, can we buy hot chestnuts?”

The young boy’s voice immediately caught Jake’s attention. He turned abruptly and came face-to-face with Holly Larson. The fourth time in less than twenty-four hours.

“Jake!”

“Holly.”

They stared at each other, both apparently too shocked to speak.

She found her voice first. “What are you doing here?”

He pointed to the apartment building on the other side of the street. “I live over there. What are you doing here this late?”

“How late is it?”

He checked his watch. “Twenty to ten.”

“Ten!” she cried. “You’ve got to be kidding. I had no idea it was so late. Hurry up, Gabe, it’s time we got to the subway.”

“Can we buy some chestnuts first?” he asked, gazing longingly at the vendor’s cart.

“Not now. Come on, we have to go.”

“I’ve never had roasted chestnuts before,” the boy complained.

“Neither have I,” Jake said, although that wasn’t strictly true, and stepped up to the vendor. “Three, please.”

“Jake, you shouldn’t.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun.” He paid for the chestnuts, then handed bags to Holly and Gabe.

“I’m not sure how we got this far north,” Holly said, walking close to his side as the three of them strolled down the street, eating chestnuts. “Gabe wanted to see the carriages in the park.”

“Lindy told me about them.” Gabe spoke with his mouth full. “Lindy Lee.”

“Lindy Lee’s my boss,” Holly explained. “The designer.”

Jake knew who she was, impressed that Holly worked for such a respected industry name.

“We went into Holly’s office to decorate for Christmas, and Lindy was there and she let me put up stuff around her desk. That’s when she told me about the horses in the park,” Gabe said.

“Did you go for a ride?” Jake asked.

Gabe shook his head sadly. “Aunt Holly said it costs a lot of money.”

“It is expensive,” Jake agreed. “But sometimes you can make a deal with the driver. Do you want me to try?”

“Yeah!” Gabe said excitedly. “I’ve never been in a carriage before—not even once.”

“Jake, no,” Holly whispered, and laid a restraining hand on his arm. “I should get him home and in bed.”

“Aunt Holly, please!” The eight-year-old’s plaintive cry rang out. “It’s Saturday.”

“You’re turning down a carriage ride?” Jake asked. He saw the dreamy look that came over Holly as a carriage rolled past—a white carriage drawn by a midnight-black horse. “Have you ever been on one?”

“No...”

“Then that settles it. The three of us are going.” Several carriages had lined up along the street. Jake walked over to the first one and asked his price, which he willingly paid. All that talk about negotiating had been just that—talk. This was the perfect end to a magical day. Magical because of a plate of silly sugar cookies. Magical because of Holly and Gabe. Magical because of Christmas, reluctant though he was to admit it.

He helped Holly up into the carriage. When she was seated, he lifted Gabe so the boy could climb aboard, too. Finally he hoisted himself onto the bench across from Holly and Gabe. They shared a thick fuzzy blanket.

“This is great,” Gabe exclaimed. “I can hardly wait to tell my dad.”

Holly smiled delightedly. “I’m surprised he’s still awake,” she said. “We’ve been on the go for hours.”

“There’s nothing like seeing Christmas through the eyes of a child, is there?”

“Nothing.”

“Reminds me of when I was a kid...”

The carriage moved into Central Park and, even at this hour, the place was alive with activity.

“Oh, look, Gabe,” Holly said, pointing at the carousel. She wrapped her arm around the boy, who snuggled closer. “We’ll go on the carousel this spring.”

He nodded sleepily. The ride lasted about thirty minutes, and by the time they returned to the park entrance, Gabe’s eyes had drifted shut.

“I was afraid this would happen,” Holly whispered.

“We’ll go to my apartment, and I’ll contact a car service to get you home.”

Holly shook her head. “I...appreciate that, but we’ll take the subway.”

“Nonsense,” Jake said.

“Jake, I can’t afford a car service.”

“It’s on me.”

“No.” She shook her head again. “I can’t let you do that.”

“You can and you will. If I hadn’t insisted on the carriage ride, you’d have been home by now.”

She looked as if she wanted to argue more but changed her mind. “Then I’ll graciously accept and say thank-you. It’s been a magical evening.”

Magical. The same word he’d used himself. He leaped down, helped her and Gabe out, then carried Gabe across the street. The doorman held the door for them.

“Evening, Mr. Finley.”

“Evening, George.”

Holly followed him onto the elevator. When they reached the tenth floor and the doors glided open, he led the way down the hall to his apartment. He had to shift the boy in his arms to get his key in the lock.

Once inside Holly looked around her, eyes wide. By New York standards, his apartment was huge. His father had lived in it for fifteen years before moving to a different place. This apartment had suited Jake, so he’d taken it over.

“I see you’re like me. I haven’t had time to decorate for Christmas, either,” she finally said. “I was so late getting the office done that I had to come in on a Saturday to do it.”

“I don’t decorate for the holidays,” he said without explaining the reasons. He knew he probably sounded a little brusque; he hadn’t meant to.

“I suppose you get enough of that working for the store.”

He nodded, again avoiding an explanation. He laid a sleeping Gabe on the sofa.

“I’ll see how long we’ll have to wait for a car,” he said. The number was on speed dial; he used it often, since he didn’t own a car himself. In midtown Manhattan car ownership could be more of a liability than a benefit. He watched Holly walk over to the picture window and gaze outside. Apparently she found the scene as mesmerizing as he had earlier. Although he made every effort to ignore Christmas, it stared back at him from the street, the city, the park. New York was always intensely alive but never more so than in December.

The call connected with the dispatcher. “How may I help you?”

Jake identified himself and gave his account number and address, and was assured a car would be there in fifteen minutes.

“I’ll ride with you,” Jake told her when he’d hung up the phone.

His offer appeared to surprise her. “You don’t need to do that.”

“True, but I’d like to,” he said with a smile.

She smiled shyly back. “I’d like it, too.” Walking away from the window, she sighed. “I don’t understand why, but I feel like I’ve known you for ages.”

“I feel the same way.”

“Was it only yesterday morning that you paid for my latte?”

“You were a damsel in distress.”

“And you were my knight in shining armor,” she said warmly. “You’re still in character this evening.”

He sensed that she wanted to change the subject because she turned away from him, resting her gaze on something across the room. “You know, you have the ideal spot for a Christmas tree in that corner,” she said.

“I haven’t celebrated Christmas in more than twenty years,” Jake blurted out, shocking himself even more than Holly.

“I beg your pardon?”

Jake went back into the kitchen and found that his throat had gone dry and his hands sweaty. He never talked about his mother and sister. Not with anyone. Including his father.

“You don’t believe in Christmas?” she asked, trailing after him. “What about Hanukkah?”

“Neither.” He’d dug himself into a hole and the only way out was to explain. “My mother and sister were killed on Christmas Eve twenty-one years ago. A freak car accident that happened in the middle of a snowstorm, when two taxis collided.”

“Oh, Jake. I’m so sorry.”

“Dad and I agreed to forget about Christmas from that point forward.”

Holly moved to his side. She didn’t say a word and he was grateful. When people learned of the tragedy—almost always from someone other than him—they rarely knew what to say or how to react. It was an uncomfortable situation and still painful; he usually mumbled some remark about how long ago the accident had been and then tried to put it out of his mind. But he couldn’t, any more than his father could.

Holly slid her arms around him and simply laid her head against his chest. For a moment, Jake stood unmoving as she held him. Then he placed his own arms around her. It felt as though she was an anchor, securing him in an unsteady sea. He needed her. Wanted her. Before he fully realized what he was doing, he lifted her head and lowered his mouth to hers.

The kiss was filled with urgency and need. She slipped her arms around his neck, and her touch had a powerful effect on him.

He tangled his fingers in her dark shoulder-length hair and brought his mouth to hers a second time. Soon they were so involved in each other that it took him far longer than it should to hear the ringing of his phone.

He broke away in order to answer; as he suspected, the car was downstairs, waiting. When he told Holly, she immediately put on her coat. Gabe continued to sleep as Jake scooped him up, holding the boy carefully in both arms.

George opened the lobby door for them. Holly slid into the vehicle first, and then as Jake started to hand her the boy, he noticed a movement on the other side of the street.

“Jake?” Holly called from the car. “Please, there’s no need for you to come. You’ve been so kind already.”

“I want to see you safely home,” he said as he stared across the street. For just an instant—it must have been his imagination—he was sure he’d seen Emily Merkle, better known as Mrs. Miracle.

Six

Forbidden fruit creates many jams.

—Mrs. Miracle

The phone rang just as Holly and Gabe walked into the apartment after church the next morning. For one wild second Holly thought it might be Jake.

Or rather, hoped it was Jake.

Although she’d been dead on her feet by the time they got to Brooklyn, she couldn’t sleep. She’d lain awake for hours, thinking about the kisses they’d shared, replaying every minute of their time together. All of this was so unexpected and yet so welcome. Jake was—

“Hello,” she said, sounding breathless with anticipation.

“What’s this I hear about you turning my son into a girl?”

“Mickey!” Her brother’s voice was as clear as if he were in the next room. He tried to phone on a regular basis, but it wasn’t easy. The most reliable form of communication had proved to be email.

“So you’re baking cookies with my son, are you?” he teased.

“We had a blast.” Gabe was leaping up and down, eager to speak to his father. “Here, I’ll let Gabe tell you about it himself.” She passed the phone to her nephew, who immediately grabbed it.

“Dad! Dad, guess what? I went to Aunt Holly’s office to help her decorate and then she took me to see the big tree at Rockefeller Center and we watched the skaters and had hot chocolate and then we walked to Central Park and had hot dogs for dinner, and, oh, we went to see Mrs. Miracle. I helped Aunt Holly roll out cookies and...” He paused for breath.

Evidently Mickey took the opportunity to ask a few questions, because Gabe nodded a couple of times.

“Mrs. Miracle is the lady in the toy department at Finley’s,” he said.

He was silent for a few seconds.

“She’s really nice,” Gabe continued. “She reminds me of Grandma Larson. I gave her a plate of cookies, and Aunt Holly gave cookies to Jake.” Silence again, followed by “He’s Aunt Holly’s new boyfriend and he’s really, really nice.”

“Maybe I should talk to your father now,” Holly inserted, wishing Gabe hadn’t been so quick to mention Jake’s name.

Gabe clutched the receiver in both hands and turned his back, unwilling to relinquish the phone.

“Jake took us on a carriage ride in Central Park and then...” Gabe stopped talking for a few seconds. “I don’t know what happened after that ’cause I fell asleep.”

Mickey was asking something else, and although Holly strained to hear what it was, she couldn’t.

Whatever his question, Gabe responded by glancing at Holly, grinning widely and saying, “Oh, yeah.”

“Are you two talking about me?” she demanded, half laughing and half annoyed.

She was ignored. Apparently Gabe felt there was a lot to tell his father, because he cupped his hand around the mouthpiece and whispered loudly, “I think they kissed.”

“Gabe!” she protested. If she wanted her brother to know this, she’d tell him herself.

“Okay,” Gabe said, nodding. He held out the phone to her. “Dad wants to talk to you.”

Holly took it from him and glared down at her nephew.

“So I hear you’ve found a new love interest,” Mickey said in the same tone he’d used to tease her when they were teenagers.

“Oh, stop. Jake and I hardly know each other.”

“How’d you meet?”

“At Starbucks. Mickey, please, it’s nothing. I only met him on Friday.” It felt longer than two days, but this was far too soon to even suggest they were in a relationship.

“Gabe doesn’t seem to feel that’s a problem.”

“Okay, so I took Jake a plate of cookies like Gabe said—it was just a thank-you for buying me a coffee—and...and we happened to run into him last evening in Central Park. It’s no big deal. He’s a nice person and, well...like I said, we’ve just met.”

“But it looks promising,” her brother added.

Holly hated to acknowledge how true that was. Joy and anticipation had surged through her from the moment she and Jake kissed. Still, she was afraid to admit this to her brother—and, for that matter, afraid to admit it to herself. “It’s too soon to say that yet.”

“Ah, so you’re still hung up on Bill?”

Was she? Holly didn’t think so. If Bill had ended the relationship by telling her the chemistry just wasn’t there, she could’ve accepted that. Instead, he’d left her with serious doubts regarding her parenting abilities.

“Is that it?” Mickey pressed.

“No,” she said. “Not at all. Bill and I weren’t really meant to be together. I think we both realized that early on, only neither of us was ready to be honest about it.”

“Mmm.” Mickey made a sound of agreement. “Things are going better with Gabe, aren’t they?”

“Much better.”

“Good.”

“He’s adjusting and so am I.” This past week seemed to have been a turning point. They were more at ease with each other. Gabe had made new friends and was getting used to life without his father—and with her. She knew she insisted on rules Mickey didn’t bother with—like making their beds every morning, drinking milk with breakfast and, of course, putting the toilet seat down. But Gabe hardly complained at all anymore.

“What was it he told Santa he wanted for Christmas?” Mickey asked.

“So he emailed you about the visit with Santa, did he?”

“Yup, he sent the email right after he got home. He seemed quite excited.”

“It’s Intellytron the SuperRobot.”

At her reference to the toy, Gabe’s eyes lit up and he nodded vigorously.

“We found them in Finley’s Department Store. Mrs. Miracle, the woman Gabe mentioned, works there...and Jake does, too.”

“Didn’t Gabe tell me Jake’s name is Finley?” Mickey asked. “He said he heard Mrs. Miracle call him that—Mr. Finley. Is he related to the guy who owns the store?”

“Y-e-s.” How dense could she be? Holly felt like slapping her forehead. She’d known his name was Finley from the beginning and it hadn’t meant a thing to her. But now... now she realized Jake was probably related to the Finley family—was possibly even the owner’s son. No wonder he could afford to live where he did. He hadn’t given the price of the carriage ride or the car service a second thought, either.

She had the sudden, awful feeling that she was swimming in treacherous waters and there wasn’t a life preserver in sight.

“Holly?”

“I...I think he must be.” She’d been so caught up in her juvenile fantasies, based on the coincidence of their meetings, that she hadn’t paid attention to anything else.

“You sound like this is shocking news.”

“I hadn’t put two and two together,” she confessed.

“And now you’re scared.”

“I guess I am.”

“Don’t be. He puts his pants on one leg at a time like everyone else, if you’ll pardon the cliché. He’s just a guy.”

“Right.”

“You don’t seem too sure of that.”

Holly wasn’t. A chill had overtaken her and she hugged herself with one arm. “I need to think about this.”

“While you’re thinking, tell me more about this robot that’s got my son so excited.”

“It’s expensive.”

“How...expensive?”

Holly heard the hesitation in her brother’s voice. He had his own financial problems. “Don’t worry—I’ve got it. This is on me.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Positive.” The Christmas bonus checks were due the following Friday. If all went well, hers should cover the price of the toy with enough left over for a really special Christmas dinner.

Christmas.

When she woke that morning, still warm under the covers, Holly’s first thought had been of Jake. She’d had the craziest idea that...well, it was out of the question now.

What Jake had confided about his mother and sister had nearly broken her heart. The tragedy had not only robbed him of his mother and sibling, it had destroyed his pleasure in Christmas. Holly had hoped to change that, but the mere notion seemed ridiculous now. She’d actually planned to invite Jake to spend Christmas Day with her and Gabe. She knew now that he’d never accept. He was a Finley, after all, a man whose background was vastly different from her own.

Half-asleep, she’d pictured the three of them sitting around her table, a lovely golden-brown turkey with sage stuffing resting in the center. She’d imagined Christmas music playing and the tree lights blinking merrily, enhancing the celebratory mood. She couldn’t believe she’d even considered such a thing, knowing what she did now.

“I have a Christmas surprise coming your way,” Mickey said. “I’m just hoping it arrives in time for the holidays.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she assured her brother, dragging her thoughts away from Jake. She focused on her brother and nephew—which was exactly what she intended to do from this point forward. She needed to forget this romantic fantasy she’d invented within a day of meeting Jake Finley.

“I can guarantee Gabe will like it and so will you,” Mickey was saying.

Holly couldn’t begin to guess what Mickey might have purchased in Afghanistan for Christmas, but then her brother had always been full of surprises. He’d probably ordered something over the internet, she decided.

“Mom and Dad mailed us a package, as well,” she told him. “The box got here this week.”

“From Haiti? What would they be sending?”

“I don’t have a clue,” she said. Once the tree was up she’d arrange the gifts underneath it.

“You’re going to wait until Christmas morning, aren’t you?” he asked. “Don’t open anything before that.”

“Of course we’ll wait.” Even as kids, they’d managed not to peek at their gifts.

Mickey laughed, then grew serious. “This won’t be an ordinary Christmas, will it?”

Holly hadn’t dwelled on not being with her parents. Her father, a retired dentist, and her mother, a retired nurse, had offered their services in a health clinic for twelve months after the devastating earthquake. They’d been happy about the idea of giving back, and Holly had been happy for them. This Christmas was supposed to be Mickey, Gabe and her for the holidays—and then Mickey’s National Guard unit had been called up and he’d left to serve his country.

“It could be worse,” she said, and her thoughts involuntarily went to Jake and his father, who refused to celebrate Christmas at all.

“Next year everything will be different,” Mickey told her.

“Yes, it will,” she agreed.

Her brother spoke to Gabe for a few more minutes and then said goodbye. Gabe was pensive after the conversation with his father and so was Holly, but for different reasons.

“How about toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch?” she suggested, hoping to lighten the mood. “That was your dad’s and my favorite Sunday lunch when we were growing up.”

Gabe looked at her suspiciously. “What kind of cheese?”

Holly shrugged. “Regular cheese?” By that she meant the plastic-wrapped slices, Gabe’s idea of cheese.

“You won’t use any of that buffalo stuff, will you?”

She grinned. “Buffalo mozzarella. Nope, this is plain old sliced regular cheese in a package.”

“Okay, as long as the soup comes from a can. That’s the way Dad made it and that’s how I like it.”

“You got it,” she said, and moved into the kitchen.

Gabe sat on a stool and watched her work, leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter. Holly wasn’t fooled by his intent expression. He wasn’t interested in spending time with her; he was keeping a close eye on their lunch in case she tried to slip in a foreign ingredient. After a moment he released a deep sigh.

“What’s that about?” she asked.

“I miss my dad.”

“I know you do, sweetheart. I miss him, too.”

“And Grandma and Grandpa.”

“And they miss us.”

Gabe nodded. “It’s not so bad living with you. I thought it was at first, but you’re okay.”

“Thanks.” She hid a smile and set a piece of buttered bread on the heated griddle, then carefully placed a slice of processed cheese on top before adding the second piece of bread. She planned to have a plain cheese sandwich herself—one with real cheese.

Obviously satisfied that she was preparing his lunch according to his specifications, Gabe clambered off the stool. “Can we go to the movies this afternoon?”

“Maybe.” She had to be careful with her entertainment budget, especially since there were additional expenses coming up this month. “It might be better if we got a video.”

“Can I invite a friend over?”

She hesitated a moment, afraid he might want to ask his new friend, Billy.

“Sure,” she said. “How about Jonathan Krantz?” Jonathan was another eight-year-old who lived in the building, and Caroline, his mother, sometimes babysat for her.

That was acceptable to Gabe.

After lunch they walked down to the neighborhood video store, found a movie they could both agree on and then asked Jonathan to join them.

Holly did her best to pay attention to the movie; however, her mind had a will of its own. No matter how hard she tried, all she could think about was Jake. He didn’t phone and that was just as well. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve said if he had.

Then again, he hadn’t asked for her phone number. Still, he could get it easily enough if he wanted....

Late Sunday night, after Gabe was asleep, Holly went on the computer and did a bit of research. Sure enough, Jake was related to the owner. Not only that, he was the son and heir.

Monday morning, Holly dropped Gabe off at school and took the subway into Manhattan. As she walked past Starbucks, she felt a twinge of longing—for more than just the coffee they served. This was where she’d met Jake. Jake Finley.

As she walked briskly past Starbucks, the door flew open and Jake Finley dashed out, calling her name.

Holly pretended not to hear.

“Holly!” he shouted, running after her. “Wait up!”

Seven

Coincidence is when God chooses

to remain anonymous.

—Mrs. Miracle

“Wait up!” Jake called. Holly acted as if she hadn’t heard him. Jake knew better. She was clearly upset about something, although he couldn’t figure out what. His mind raced with possibilities, but he couldn’t come up with a single one that made sense.

Finally she turned around.

Jake relaxed. Just seeing her again brought him a feeling of happiness he couldn’t define. He barely knew Holly Larson, yet he hadn’t been able to forget her. She was constantly in his thoughts, constantly with him, and perhaps the most puzzling of all was the rightness he felt in her presence. He couldn’t think of any other way to describe it.

Jake had resisted the urge to contact her on Sunday, afraid of coming on too strong. They’d seen quite a bit of each other in the past few days, seemingly thrown together by fate. Coincidence? He supposed so, and yet... It was as though a providential hand was behind all this. Admittedly that sounded fanciful, even melodramatic. Nevertheless, four chance meetings in quick succession was hard to explain.

With someone else, a different kind of woman, Jake might have suspected these meetings had been contrived, and certainly this morning’s was pure manipulation on his part. He’d hoped to run into her casually. But he hadn’t expected to see Holly walk directly past the coffee shop. He couldn’t allow this opportunity to pass.

She looked up at him expectantly; she didn’t say anything.

“Good morning,” he said, unsure of her mood.

“Hi.” She just missed making eye contact.

He felt her reluctance and frowned, unable to fathom what he might have done to upset her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

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, Jake 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.

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