Call Me Mrs. Miracle (9 page)

Emily Merkle smiled to herself. This latest assignment was going well. She enjoyed the ones that took place during the Christmas season most of all. She hadn’t expected the romance between Jake and Holly to develop quite this quickly, so that was a bonus. Those two were very good together—and good for each other.

She attached her name badge to her sweater and hung her purse in the employee locker, then headed up to the toy department. She’d grown fond of Jake Finley. He was a kindhearted young man, a bit reserved, to be sure, but
willing to take a risk he believed in. The robots were one example of that, his pursuit of Holly another.

Walking toward the elevator, she saw J. R. Finley, who’d just come into the hallway. He stopped, and his eyes automatically went to her badge.

“Mrs. Miracle,” he said thoughtfully. He seemed to be mulling over where he’d heard it before.

“Mr. Finley,” she said in the same thoughtful tone.

“To the best of my recollection, we don’t have an employee here at Finley’s named Miracle.”

Emily was about to identify herself, but before she could, J.R. continued.

“I pride myself on knowing the name of every employee at the Thirty-fourth Street Finley’s. Including seasonal staff.” He narrowed his eyes. “Just a minute. I remember my son mentioning you earlier.”

“The name is Merkle,” Emily told him. “Emily Merkle.”

Finley shook his head. “Can’t say I’m familiar with that name, either.”

“If you check with HR, I’m sure—”

“You’re working with my son in the toy department, aren’t you?” he said abruptly.

Emily frowned. “Are you always this rude, or are you making an exception in my case?”

He blinked twice.

He was used to everyone kowtowing to him. Well,
she
wouldn’t do it.

“I beg your pardon?”

Emily met his look boldly. “I was saying something, young man.”

J.R.’s head reared back and he released a howl of laughter. “
Young
man? My dear woman, it’s been a long time since anyone referred to me as young.”

Compared to her, he was practically in diapers. “That’s beside the point.”

He seemed confused.

“As I was saying,” Emily continued politely, “if you care to check with HR, you’ll find that I was hired last week as seasonal help.”

“Only last week?” J.R. smiled at her. “That explains it, then.”

“It does, indeed.” She started down the hallway and was surprised when J.R. kept pace with her.

“You
are
working with my son, correct?”

“Yes. The toy department is extremely busy this time of year, as you well know.” She glanced pointedly at her watch, wanting him to realize she should be on the floor that very moment.

“My son made a huge error in judgment by ordering five hundred of those expensive robots.”

She was puzzled by his willingness to discuss business—and family—matters with a short-term employee. But she couldn’t let his comment go unchallenged. “You think so, do you?” she asked mildly.

He gave her a startled look, as if no one had dared question his opinion before. “I know so,” he insisted.

Emily was curious as to why he felt Jake was wrong and he was right. “Please tell me why you’re so convinced your son’s about to fail.”

“Good grief, woman—”

“Call me Mrs. Miracle.”

“Fine, Mrs. Miracle. Do you realize exactly how many of these…Intellytromps he needs to sell by Christmas? That’s less than two weeks from now. It’ll never happen.”

“They’re Intelly
trons.
”

“Tromps, trons, whatever. They won’t sell. Mark my words. It would take a miracle.” He grinned broadly, obviously thinking himself very clever.

“You called?” she said, and laughed.

J.R. apparently didn’t like the fact that she’d responded to his joke with one of her own. Instead of laughing, he scowled.

“Never mind,” she said with a sigh. “I just wish you had more faith in your son.”

He quickly took offense. “My son is my concern.”

“He
is
your concern,” she agreed. “And your future. So, it’s time you trusted his judgment.”

She’d really ruffled his feathers now. He grew red in the face and puffed up like an angry rooster, his chest expanding. “Now listen here. I won’t have an employee talking to me as if I’m some messenger boy.”

Emily stood her ground. “Someone needs to tell you the truth and it might as well be me.”

“Is that so?”

He sounded like a third-grader exchanging insults on the playground.

“You need to give your son a bit of leeway to make his own mistakes instead of second-guessing all his decisions.”

He opened and closed his mouth as if he couldn’t speak fast enough to say what was on his mind. He thrust out one hand. “Your badge.”

So he intended to fire her. “You don’t want to do that,” she told him calmly.

“I will not have an insubordinate employee working in my store!”

“I’m temporary help,” she reminded him. “I’ll be gone soon enough.”

“I expect you gone
today.
”

“Sorry, I’m afraid that would be impossible. You’ll need to reconsider.”

Once again he couldn’t seem to speak. “Are…are you refusing to leave the premises?” he finally managed to sputter.

“Jacob Robert, settle down. You’ve always had a problem with your temper, haven’t you? Now, take a deep breath and listen to me. You do not want to fire me this close to Christmas.”

“Are you threatening me?” he growled. “And how do you know my middle name?”

“Not in the least,” she said, answering his first question and ignoring his second.

“I’m calling Security and having you escorted from the building. Your check will be mailed to you.”

“Security?” The image of two beefy security guards lifting her by the arms and marching her outside was so comical it made Emily laugh.

That seemed to infuriate him even more. “Do you find this humorous?”

“Frankly, yes.” She wouldn’t lie; the man was insufferable. Oh, heavens, she did have her work cut out for her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, your son needs my help.”

His jaw sagged as she scurried past him and walked quickly to the elevator.

As she suspected, the toy department was in chaos. Poor Jake was run ragged—thanks, in part, to his father, who’d taken too much pleasure in making her late for her shift. That man was about to meet his match. Emily Merkle was not going to let one overstuffed, pigheaded man stand in the way of her mission.

She’d been on the floor for thirty minutes or so when J.R. unexpectedly showed up. When he saw how busy the department was, he did a double take.

“Don’t stand there gawking,” Emily said as she marched past him, leading a customer to the cash register. Brenda and Karen, also on duty, were bustling around, answering questions, ringing up sales, demonstrating toys.

He stared at her blankly.

“Help,” she told him. “We could use an extra pair of hands, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Ah…” He froze, as if he didn’t know where to start.

“That couple over there,” Emily said, pointing in the direction of the board games. “They have a three-year-old and a six-year-old and they’re looking for suggestions. Give them a few.”

“Ah…”

“Don’t just stand there with your mouth hanging open,” she ordered. “Get to work!”

To his credit, J.R. rolled up his sleeves and dug in. J. R. Finley might know the name of every employee in his store—with minor exceptions, of course—but he was in way over his head when it came to recommending board games. To
her
credit, Emily kept her mouth shut.

At four o’clock there was a slight lull. “Dad,” Jake greeted his father. “What brings you down here?”

J.R. squinted at Emily but didn’t answer.

“Whatever it was, I’m grateful.” He turned to Emily. “How many Intellytrons did we sell this afternoon?”

“Sixteen.”

“Fabulous!” Jake couldn’t conceal his excitement.

His father, however, looked as though he needed to sit down, put up his feet and have a cup of hot tea. In Emily’s view, it would do the man good to work the floor once in a while. He might actually learn something that way.

“I came to talk to you about this woman.” J.R. stabbed a menacing finger at Emily.

“Ah, you mean Mrs. Miracle,” Jake said fondly. “She’s a wonder, isn’t she?”

“She’s a nuisance,” J.R. snapped. “I want her fired.”

Jake laughed, which was clearly the opposite reaction of what his father expected.

“This is not a joke.”

“Yes, it is,” Jake insisted. “Didn’t you see what a mad
house this place was? It’s like that every day now. I can’t afford to lose Mrs. Miracle.”

Emily sauntered over to J.R.’s side and whispered saucily, “Told you so.”

He shook his finger. “I don’t care if I have to work this department on my own,” he yelled, “I will not tolerate in subordination.”

“Excuse me, Dad, I’ve got another customer.”

“I do, too,” Emily said. “But you can keep standing there for a while. You make a nice fixture.”

A kid of about five stepped in front of J.R. and stared up at him. “Is that a trick, mister?”

J.R. lowered his arms. “What, son?”

The boy was completely enthralled. “The way you get your cheeks to puff out like that.”

Difficult though it was, Emily managed not to laugh. The boy was quite observant. J.R. had the puffing of cheeks down to an art form.

Jake finished with his customer and hurried back to his father. “Dad, I am
not
firing Mrs. Miracle.”

“No, you’re not. I am,” J.R. said. “It will give me great pleasure to make sure she never works in this store again.”

“What did she do that was so terrible?” Jake demanded.

“She insulted me and meddled in my personal affairs,” his father burst out.

“How?” Jake asked, calm and collected. He was the perfect contrast to his father, who waved both arms wildly and spoke loudly enough to attract attention from every corner of the third floor.

When J.R. didn’t answer, Jake shrugged and said, “Sorry, Dad, I need her.”

Emily smiled ever so sweetly.

“She’s out of here,” J.R. roared, making a chopping motion with his arm. She thought he resembled an umpire signaling a strikeout.

Jake shook his head. “She’s our best sales associate by a mile, so if she goes, we might as well close down the entire department. You wouldn’t want that, would you, Dad?”

J.R. hesitated.

“And if we close the department, you won’t have a chance to prove how wrong I was by ordering five hundred Intellytrons,” he said, as if that should be sufficient inducement to keep her on staff.

Emily suspected J.R. wanted Jake to fall flat on his face over this robot. He’d pay a high price for being right—and, as a matter of fact, he was dead wrong. She’d seen for herself how popular the toy was. She’d hoped it would be and had done her best to sell it. However, after the past twenty-four
hours, she didn’t need to try very hard; the toy sold itself. Apparently, its sudden popularity had begun like so many trends, on the West Coast. Now, the moment someone heard that Finley’s still had robots in stock, they dashed over. Then they couldn’t whip out their credit cards fast enough.

“I’d better stay,” Emily murmured to Jake. “As much as I’d like to walk away right now, I wouldn’t give your father the satisfaction.”

J.R. stomped his foot.

“Are you having a temper tantrum?” she asked sweetly.

Jake only laughed. “Dad, I think it might be best if you went back to your office now. Or you could go home.”

“This is
my
store and I’ll stay anywhere I darn well please.”

Jake leaned closer to his father and whispered, “You’re scaring off my customers.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“We want customers, don’t we, Dad? Isn’t that the whole idea?”

“Don’t get smart with me,” J.R. muttered.

“Yes, Dad.” Jake winked at Emily, who winked back.

J.R. must have caught sight of what they were doing. “What’s that about?”

“What?” Emily asked, again the picture of politeness.

“What?” Jake echoed.

Seeing that he’d forfeited even the pretense of control, J.R. sighed. “Forget it.”

“I can stay on, then?” Emily asked the store owner.

“Why ask me? I seem to have lost complete control of this company to a man I no longer recognize—my son.” With that he marched toward the elevator that would deliver him to his private office on the fourteenth floor.

Holly knew she couldn’t postpone calling Bill Carter, since the boys wanted to get together two days from now. It would be petty to allow her awkward relationship with Bill to stand in the way of her nephew being friends with his son.

The problem was how to approach him. She waited until Gabe was in bed on Wednesday night. Then she drew in a deep breath and looked up Bill’s home number, which she’d made a point of erasing from her mind—and her phone. She hated feeling nervous about this. It was a courtesy call and nothing more.

Bill picked up on the fourth ring, when she was about to hang up, almost relieved he hadn’t answered. Then all of a sudden, she heard, “Hello.”

“Bill, it’s Holly.”

“Do you realize what time it is?”

“Uh, yes… It’s nine-thirty. Am I calling too late?”

He didn’t respond immediately. “I know why you’re calling and I—”

“You do?” So all this angst had been for nothing. She should’ve noticed earlier how silly she was being, how badly she’d overreacted.

“It’s about Tiffany, isn’t it?”

“No…who’s Tiffany?”

“You mean you
don’t
know?”

Obviously she didn’t. “Sorry, I think we’re talking at cross-purposes here. I don’t know any Tiffany—well, other than the one I met through work. I’m calling about Billy.”

“My son?”

He sounded both relieved and worried, which confused Holly. “Listen, can we start over?” she asked.

“It’s too late for that.”

Just how obtuse
was
the man? “I don’t mean our relationship, Bill. I was referring to our conversation.”

“Just tell me why you called,” he said, with more than a hint of impatience.

“I’m trying to, but you keep interrupting me. This isn’t an easy phone call for me and your attitude’s not helping.” If Bill was a decent human being, he should understand this was difficult and appreciate the courage it had taken her to contact him. The fact that he didn’t angered her. “No wonder the two of us aren’t dating anymore,” she muttered.

“Okay, fine. But what’s that got to do with my son?”

She sighed loudly. “Since you haven’t worked it out for yourself, I’ll tell you. Billy and Gabe have become friends.”

“Yeah? So what?”

“Well, I—” Before she could answer his rudely phrased question, he broke in.

“Wait a minute,” he said suspiciously. “How do you know my son’s friends with this kid?”

The way he said it practically implied that Holly had been stalking his son. “That’s the most ridiculous question I’ve ever heard! I know because Gabe’s my nephew.”

“So?”

“So Billy wants Gabe to come home with him after school on Friday.”

“Fine. And this concerns you how?”

“I thought I should tell you we’re related.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re calling. Shouldn’t Gabe’s parents clear this with me? Not you.”

Holly gritted her teeth at his offensive tone. What she’d
ever seen in this man was completely lost on her now. At the moment, she was grateful he’d broken it off.

“I have custody of Gabe,” she said calmly. She didn’t feel like describing how that had come about; it was none of his business—and besides, she wanted to keep the conversation as short as possible.

“
You
have custody?”

The question grated on her nerves. “Yes,
me,
and it’s working out very nicely, I might add.”

“Ah…” Bill apparently hadn’t figured out yet how to react.

Holly had no intention of allowing him to make any more derogatory comments about her mothering skills. She launched right into her question, not giving him a chance to say much of anything. “Is it still okay if Gabe comes to your house after school?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Do you have the same housekeeper looking after Billy as before?”

The suspicious voice was back. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t want Gabe visiting Billy if there isn’t any adult supervision.” The after-school program only went until five-thirty, and Bill was often home much later than
that, which meant the part-time housekeeper picked the boy up and then stayed at the apartment to supervise him.

“Oh, yeah, Mrs. Henry still looks after Billy from five-thirty to seven, except for the nights I have social engagements. Then she stays until I get home.”

He seemed to delight in letting her know—in what he probably thought was a subtle fashion—that he’d started dating again. Well, she had social engagements, too, even if they mostly involved going out with friends, but was mature enough not to mention it. Let him think what he liked.

Holly waited a moment, hoping he’d realize how juvenile his reaction had been. “Talking civilly isn’t so hard, is it?” she asked.

“No,” he agreed.

“Great. Now that’s settled, what time would you like me to pick Gabe up?”

“You’ll pick him up?”

“Would you rather bring him back to my apartment?” That certainly made it easier for her. Maybe he didn’t want Holly showing up at his house, but if so, she didn’t care enough to be offended.

“I can do that,” he said.

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he echoed.

“What time should I expect you?”

“Seven-thirty, I guess.”

“I’ll be here.”

She was about to disconnect when Bill’s soft chuckle caught her off guard. “So Gabe’s your nephew, huh?”

“I already told you that.”

“You did. His last name’s Larson?”

“Yes, Gabe Larson.” She didn’t see the humor in this. “I apologize for calling so late, but I thought it would be best if you and I talked when Gabe was in bed.”

“Did you think I’d refuse to let the two boys be friends?”

“I wasn’t sure. Our last conversation wasn’t very pleasant and, well, it seemed better to ask.”

“I’m glad you did.”

She was glad to hear that because he sure hadn’t acted like it.

Holly met Jake for lunch on Thursday. He’d called her at the office that morning and suggested a nearby restaurant; thankfully he’d insisted on buying. She might’ve sounded a bit too eager to accept, because she was sick of making do with leftovers. By cutting back, packing lunches and not spending a penny more than necessary Holly had managed to save seventy-five dollars toward the robot. According to her calculations, she’d have the funds to make the purchase but it would be close. Every cent counted.

Jake had arrived at the restaurant before her and secured a booth. “Hi,” he said with a smile when she slid in across from him.

“Hi. This is nice. Thanks so much.” She reached for the menu and quickly scanned the day’s specials. She was so hungry, Jake would be fortunate if she could limit her selection to one entrée. As it was, she ordered a cup of wild-mushroom soup, half a turkey sandwich with salad and a slice of apple pie à la mode for dessert.

Jake didn’t seem to mind.

“That was delicious,” she said as she sat back half an hour later and pressed her hands over her stomach. “I probably ate twice as much as any other woman you’ve ever gone out with.”

“It’s a relief to be with someone who isn’t constantly worried about her weight.”

“I do watch my calories but I’ve been doing without breakfast, and lunches have been pretty skimpy and—”

“No breakfast?”

“That’s not entirely accurate. I have breakfast, sort of. Just not much.”

“And the reason is?”

Holly wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She pretended not to hear his question and glanced at her watch instead. “Oh, it’s almost one. I should get back to work.”

“Holly.” Jake wasn’t easily distracted. “Answer the question.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I really do need to go.”

“You’re going without breakfast to save money for the robot, aren’t you?”

“Sorry, I have to run.” She slid out of the booth and grabbed her coat and purse. “Oh, before I forget. Gabe wanted me to invite you to come and watch us decorate our Christmas tree tomorrow night, if you can. He’ll be at a friend’s place and won’t get home until seven-thirty.”

He hesitated, and Holly knew why. “I won’t be able to leave the store until at least nine,” he said.

“I let Gabe stay up until ten on Friday and Saturday nights.”

He hesitated again. Holly hadn’t forgotten his reaction when Gabe had first mentioned decorating for Christmas. She knew that, like his father, he ignored the holiday—apart from being surrounded by all that bright and shiny yuletide evidence at the store. Perhaps it was selfish of her, but she wanted to show him the joy of Christmas, prove that not all his Christmas memories were bad. She was convinced there must be happy remembrances, too, and she hoped to revive those so he could let go of the past. Holly held her breath as she waited for his response.

Jake stared into the distance for what seemed like a long time before he said, “Okay, I’ll come.”

Her breath whooshed out in relief and she gave him her brightest, happiest smile. “Thank you, Jake.” She finished putting on her coat, hoping he understood how much she appreciated his decision.

“Can we do this again?” he asked. “It’s been crazy in the toy department. Mrs. Miracle insisted I take my lunch break early—and she said I should invite you. I need to get back to work, but I wanted to see you.”

“I wanted to see you, too.”

They left the restaurant together and went their separate ways. Holly’s spirits were high. She’d cleared the air with Bill as much as possible, and Gabe had been excited to learn he’d be able to go to his friend’s house on Friday.

When she returned to work, she found her boss on the phone, talking in her usual emphatic manner. Despite the fact that Holly wouldn’t be receiving a Christmas bonus, she’d tried not to let that influence her job performance.

As soon as Lindy Lee saw her, she waved one arm to get her attention.

Holly stepped into her employer’s office. “You’re back late from lunch,” Lindy said as she slammed down the phone.

“I have an hour lunch,” Holly reminded her. She rarely
took that long and often ate at her desk. Taking the full time allotted her was the exception rather than the rule.

“It’s one-fifteen,” Lindy Lee said pointedly, tapping her index finger against her wristwatch.

“And I left the office at twelve-thirty. Technically I still have fifteen minutes.” Holly could see that she might have said more than necessary and decided it would be best to stop while she was ahead. “Is there something you need me to do?” she asked.

Frowning, Lindy handed her a thick file folder. “I need you to get these sketches over to Design.”

“Right away.” She took the folder and hurried out of the office, catching the elevator to the sixth floor. As she entered the design department she caught sight of one of the models regularly hired by the company. Tiffani White was tall, slim and elegant and she possessed about as perfect a body as one could hope to have. She was a favorite of Lindy Lee’s and no wonder. The model showed Lindy’s creations to their peak potential.

Tiffani saw Holly and blinked, as if she had trouble placing her, which was odd. They’d spent a fair amount of time together, since Holly had been backstage at several runway events with her.

“Lindy Lee asked me to deliver these sketches,” she said
to the head of the technical department. She turned to Tiffani.

“Hi, Tiff,” she said casually.

“Hi.” The model smiled—a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Holly smiled back, but there was something strange going on. Tiffani had always been friendly. They’d even had coffee together now and then. Once, nearly a year ago when she’d been dating Bill, they’d run into Tiffani and—

Just a minute!

Thoughts and memories collided inside Holly’s head. The conversation with Bill the night before played back in her mind. He’d made an unusual comment when they’d first spoken, mentioning the name Tiffany—or rather, Tiffani, with an
i.
The pieces were falling into place….

“Tiffani,” Holly said. “I talked to Bill the other night.”

“You did?”

“Yes, and your name came up.”

The model brought one beautifully manicured hand to her mouth. “It did? Then you know?”

“Well, not everything.”

“I wanted him to tell you before now, but Bill said it wasn’t really any of your business. I told him that sometimes we see each other at work and it would make things better for me if you knew.”

“So the two of you are…dating?”

“Actually we’re…talking about marriage.”

Marriage. Bill was planning to
marry
Tiffani? This didn’t make sense. The model was about the least motherly woman Holly had ever met; she’d even told Holly she didn’t like children. And she’d demonstrated it, too. They’d had a shoot earlier in the year with a couple of child models and Tiffani had been difficult and cranky all day. She’d made it clear that she didn’t enjoy being around kids.

Holly wondered if Bill had any idea of the other woman’s feelings. Probably not, she thought uncharitably. All he saw was Tiffani’s perfect body and how good she looked on his arm.

In some ways, she had to concede, Bill and Tiffani were a good match. Bill had his own graphic design business and often hosted clients. Tiffani would do well entertaining, but Holly suspected she didn’t have a lot to offer as a stepmother to Billy.

Yet that’d been the excuse Bill had used when he’d broken off
their
relationship.

That was exactly what it’d been. An excuse, and a convenient one. He’d wanted Holly out of his life and he didn’t care how badly he hurt her to make that happen. Granted, the relationship would’ve ended anyway, but in the process
of hastening its demise, he’d damaged her confidence—in herself and in her maternal instincts.

Bill Carter was a jerk, no question about it. Tiffani was welcome to him.