The combatants didn’t break their stare-down, but the clerk acknowledged Patrick with a sad shake of his head. “I’m afraid the only way you can help, mister, is if you have another Cronkite bobblehead.”
“I have one in my car that I bought earlier today,” Patrick said, remembering the impulse that had led him into the store when he’d glimpsed the doll in the window. He’d thought Merry would get a kick out of it, but he’d obviously been wrong. “If you sell one of these men the bobblehead you have in the store, I’ll sell mine to the other.”
“Works for me.” The clearly relieved clerk could hardly get the words out of his mouth fast enough. He addressed the men, who were still at a standoff. “Now which one of you is going to buy the doll from me?”
“I am,” Red Face growled.
“No, I am,” Crew Cut countered. “No way will I risk coming up empty-handed.”
Patrick sighed. “I’ll get my doll from the car and come back to the store. That way, both of you can be certain you’ll leave the store with Walter.”
He didn’t wait to see if they agreed to his plan, but turned and left, walking past Merry without a word.
What could he say, after he’d finally shot the footage to back up her contention that Christmas Eve at the mall wasn’t all that Patrick had naively claimed it was?
CHAPTER SEVEN
MERRY EDGED OVER so Patrick could join her on the bench outside the novelty shop where she’d waited while he dealt with Walter Cronkite and the two obstinate men.
“Is everything under control?” she asked.
“I don’t believe those two will come to blows anymore, if that’s what you mean. But neither do I think they’ll be tossing down a few cold ones together anytime soon.”
He seemed disheartened, a condition Merry didn’t associate with him. She squashed an urge to reach over and take his hand. Clearing her throat, she said, “It was nice of you to give up your bobblehead doll like that.”
He shrugged. “Since it was for you, I probably would have returned it anyway. You made it clear that you didn’t want it.”
But she did. The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. It would have been a nifty conversation piece to keep on her desk at work. Cronkite had been an icon of television journalism, and the doll uttered his signature line: And that’s the way it is.
But those weren’t the only reasons she would have enjoyed the present. Patrick had obviously put a lot of thought into what she would like.
The silver-colored bars that signaled the novelty shop was shutting down for the night lowered into place. Merry checked her watch. Fifteen minutes remained before the mall officially closed, but she couldn’t blame the clerk considering what had just happened.
Patrick gestured to the store. “The scene of the crime is a good place to tape the top to your story for the eleven o’clock news. If that anecdote doesn’t put Christmas shopping in a bad light, nothing will.”
Everything inside Merry rebelled at airing anything about the two abrasive men. The canned Christmas music that had grated on her nerves earlier still filled the mall corridors, but she found that she liked the sound. Christmas should be filled with music, joy and, yes, magic.
Nothing about two men battling over a bobblehead doll was magical.
“I think it would be better if Betsy reran the footage we got earlier,” she said. “Or we could tape a new top and use that material of Kelly explaining how she’d found the perfect gift.”
“You said there was no such thing as the perfect gift.”
“And all day you’ve said that I was on the wrong track with my commercial Christmas idea. Why would you change your mind now?”
“Maybe I’ve come to believe you were right about the public thinking they need things they could do without. Neither of those guys needed that bobblehead, now did they?”
She couldn’t fault his logic, which sounded like something she might have said this morning. But since then she’d begun to view the situation differently.
“Those men acted horribly,” Merry agreed. “But as misguided as they were, they still weren’t entirely on the wrong track.”
Patrick lifted one of his dark eyebrows. “Would you mind telling me how you arrived at that conclusion?”
“One of those men wanted the bobblehead for his father. The other was going to use it to inspire his son. If you think about it, both those men could have fit into the first report I did today. About how it’s better to give than receive.”
Now that she’d begun putting her thoughts into words, they coalesced and led to a startling revelation.
“I get it now,” she said in wonder. “All those people dashing through the mall weren’t doing it out of greed. They were looking for gifts to show a special someone how much they were loved.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all day, love. And that’s why I bought you all those presents.” He smiled a strange, sad smile. “I don’t entirely understand why you got so angry when my bag broke, but I thought about it and I do understand what you meant about wanting what my parents have.
“I’ve always taken my family for granted, but I realize how lucky I was to grow up in a house with so much warmth and love. I want that for us, Merry. But I want you to have nice things, too. I happen to believe that you deserve the best of everything.”
“My parents think so, too.”
He sighed. “Are you going to compare me with your mum and da again?”
“I can’t help it, Patrick. Not one of you understand the only present I ever wanted was the gift of your presence.”
His eyes widened. “You have that, love. Why do you think I took the assignment today if not to spend time with you? Why do you think I’ve been pressuring you to spend Christmas with me? And why do you think I’m going to quit my job the first chance I get?”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’re going to quit your job? When did you make that decision?”
He scratched his head, looking as bemused as she felt. “Just now. Quitting seems the thing to do now that I’ve faced the fact that I rather hate working there.”
HE HATED BEING a corporate developer. Once he’d made the admission, Patrick realized how true it was. The stress he’d been under at work these past months had disappeared when he’d gotten behind the camera lens, where he belonged.
“But then why haven’t you quit before now?” Merry asked.
The idea had been brewing inside him since his first week—no, his first day—at The Goulden Group. But he’d been afraid to acknowledge it. Until now.
“Because I convinced myself you wanted to be married to a successful businessman who could give you anything you wanted.”
“What if all I ever wanted,” she said in a soft voice, “was you?”
“Then all you have to do,” he said just as softly, “is forgive me for being such an idiot.”
She smiled. “You think you were an idiot? I let you sell my Walter Cronkite bobblehead.”
He laughed and reached for her. She came willingly into his arms, and for a moment he just held her.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” she asked, her voice faintly muffled.
“In a minute,” he said, still holding her tight against his heart, which had started a wild beat of joy.
“Because if you kiss me right now, I’ll marry you.”
He put his hands gently on her shoulders and held her back from him, so he could see her face. “Are you serious?”
She nodded and started to say something else, but he didn’t wait to hear what it was. He leaned in and kissed her. He savored the feel of her lips against his, the sweet smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the sensations all the stronger because he’d thought he’d never experience them again.
He wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, but when it ended he already wanted to kiss her again.
“You didn’t give me a chance to finish what I was going to say.” She sounded breathless. He smiled and smoothed
her hair back from her hot cheek.
“What was it, love?”
“Even if you hadn’t kissed me right then, I still would have married you.”
He knew she’d meant for him to laugh, but her message was too important. “You don’t have to marry me if you’re not ready.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m ready,” she said. “I’d be ready if the wedding was tomorrow. I love you, Patrick. I always have.”
“Then let’s find a justice of the peace and do it.”
MERRY FELT SURE HER MOUTH hung open, because Patrick looked completely and utterly serious about marrying her in a civil ceremony.
“But tomorrow’s Christmas,” she said. “We’d never find a justice of the peace who worked on Christmas.”
“Then let’s fly to Vegas. I bet you can get married any day of the week in Vegas.” His eyes sparkled, as though he’d always dreamed about walking into a chapel on the strip with his bride-to-be.
“But what about the big, splashy wedding? You’re the one who thought the doves and the symphony and the dozen attendants were good ideas.”
“If that’s the kind of wedding you want, they are good ideas. But if you don’t, I’m with you. Don’t you see, love? I’m on your side no matter what. It doesn’t matter to me if we get married by a justice of the peace or an Elvis impersonator. All that’s ever mattered is that you marry me.”
“Then let’s get married in Charlotte on Valentine’s Day, just like we planned,” she decided.
“Why should we do that after all those things you said about not wanting a big wedding?”
“Because now that I know you’d marry me in front of a justice of the peace, I’m satisfied.” She paused. “I’d like for your family to see us get married, Patrick. I really love your family.”
“And they love you back, which they’ll probably tell you repeatedly when we show up in Winston-Salem tomorrow,” he said. “But my family would understand if we got married in Vegas. They’d probably insist on seeing us married in a church when we got back, but they’d understand.”
“My parents wouldn’t,” she said. “They won’t be satisfied unless they can give me this wedding. That’s the way they show their love, Patrick. By giving me things. I can accept that now.”
He looked doubtful. “Does that mean you won’t make me return all those things I got you for Christmas?”
“Not all of them,” she conceded and stroked his face. “As long as you realize that the perfect present for me is you.”
A short time later, after they taped a new introduction to her news report and retrieved her coat at the mall office, they walked out of King’s Mall hand in hand.
Merry stopped short, hardly believing her eyes. In front of them, against the backdrop of night, snowflakes floated gracefully to the earth and stuck. Already the parking lot resembled a winter wonderland.
“I can’t believe it,” Merry exclaimed. “It’s snowing.”
“Just one more Christmas miracle to add to the collection,” Patrick said. “We’re engaged again, aren’t we?”
She raised her lips and met his mouth in front of a mall where magic wasn’t supposed to happen but had. She felt that magic shimmer through her, right down to the bottom of her toasty warm feet.
DECK THE HALLS
Holly Jacobs
For George and Marilyn. Even though we’re not under the same roof during the holidays, you’re always in my heart.
And thanks to Dr. Makarowski and Eda Burhenn, CRNP, for all the rheumatology information.
CHAPTER ONE
JOY O’CONNELL WASN’T very…wasn’t very joyful that is.
As a matter of fact, if she heard one more version of “White Christmas” she just might scream. So far this morning she’d been treated to a reggae version in the car on the way to work and then a classic Bing Crosby version as she entered the store.
She could manage those.
Barely.
But this new rap one that was blaring in the elevator?
She shuddered. It wasn’t that she had anything against rap, but whatever happened to good, old-fashioned elevator Muzak?
She hurried through the doors as soon as they slid open, past the vacant customer service desk, then down the hall to her office without anyone seeing her. She shut the door to escape the noise.
She glanced at the clock. It was nine on the nose. Just nine more hours until they closed their doors and Christmas season officially ended for the store and she could turn off the Christmas music. And it wasn’t going to be a moment too soon.
Harrington and Vine’s company policy demanded that Christmas music start being piped into the upscale department store about the same time the Christmas decorations went up.
Joy had been working in retail for almost twenty years now, and it seemed that each year the Christmas season was just a bit earlier than the last.
This year, the powers-that-be had mandated the season start in October, before the Halloween decorations were even down.
Maybe that explained why Joy O’Connell was less than joyful.
Or maybe it was simply that here it was Christmas Eve and she was in Charlotte, North Carolina while all her family and friends were across the country in San Diego, California. It was her first holiday alone. Even back in college, she’d gone home for the holidays.
Just thinking of the annual parties and gatherings she’d attended her whole life, but would miss this year, made her feel glum. For instance, last night she’d had a bowl of popcorn and watched the antithesis of a holiday movie…a classic slasher film while across the country her whole family had been at Aunt Lois and Uncle Jack’s party.
As she watched yet another stupid heroine go into the dark basement, she imagined Aunt Theresa and Aunt Colleen, her cousins, her parents all gathered in Aunt Lois’s small dining room, laughing and visiting, then exchanging gag gifts. Every year previously she’d been right there in the thick of things.
Except this year.
She’d eaten her rather metallic-tasting popcorn, watching a movie heroine who was TSTL, too stupid to live.
Oh, she wasn’t totally alone on the East Coast. She had one friend, Morgan, who had recently moved to Pittsburgh. But even though they had both transplanted east, the northwestern Pennsylvanian city was still too far to visit just to have a sense of connection, of home for the holidays.
Christmas carols, no family—those were both enough in and of themselves to put Joy in a holiday funk. But the topper on her Scroogeish mood was the fact that a third of the store’s employees were out with the flu.
Joy glanced at the clock. She had to shake off this morose feeling and get to work. She hung up her coat, wishing she’d had something a bit warmer in the face of the day’s nasty weather. It was overcast, ominous and downright cold for North Carolina. Then she went and poured a cup of coffee, thankful Susan, her assistant manager, had come in early and started it.
She took a sip as she sat down to enjoy a carol-less, peace-filled moment when her phone rang.
Joy wanted to ignore it.
If there’d been anyone else in the office besides her, she would have. But as the new manager of Harrington and Vine’s, the buck stopped on her lap. Most days she didn’t mind, but it seemed this holiday season she had a whole flock of bucks stopping and she couldn’t face one more.
Not one.
Unfortunately there was no way out, and she had to pick up the continual-bearer-of-bad-news telephone. Wondering what could go wrong now, she answered, “Hello?”
“Ms. O’Connell,” croaked a voice she couldn’t place.
“Yes? Can I help you?”
“It’s me….” The sound of someone hacking up a lung went on for a seemingly unending amount of time, before the croaker finished, took a deep inhale and said, “Jamie. It’s Jamie.”
“Jamie?” Joy set down the mug, knowing that coffee wasn’t going to restore her flagging spirits. Nothing but the end of the Christmas season—of the flu season—
would. On the long shot that she was wrong, she continued, “That was just some food that went down the wrong tube. You’re not sick. Not you. You’re made of sterner stuff. Right?”
Jamie didn’t respond.
“Say you don’t have it, too.”
But Joy knew Jamie’s denial wouldn’t be coming. Jamie Anthony, Harrington and Vine’s Personal Shopper, did indeed have the flu.
H&V was an anchor store for King’s Mall. It brought designer-brand products to the Charlotte area and catered to the type of clientele who demanded just a little more service than most.
Jamie was a big part of the store’s answer to caring for those customers. She shopped for those who didn’t have time to shop for themselves, and assisted those who had the money, but not necessarily the inclination, and frequently not the taste.
“Sorry,” Jamie rasped. “But I do. I’d be there if I could. You know I love shopping most days, but this time of the year—”
Another coughing jag brought the sentence to an abrupt halt, but Joy didn’t need Jamie to finish. Jamie had been rhapsodizing about the holiday season since the day in mid-October when the store had put up the first artificial tree.
Yesterday, Jamie’s abundance of holiday spirit had been driving Joy nuts, but today she’d give anything to have the Personal Shopper waltz into her office and sing the praises of the season.
“Fine.” Joy knew there was no option but to face the inevitable. Jamie was obviously not shopping today. “Then tell me your calendar was basically empty because everyone finished their shopping bright and early this year.”
She crossed her fingers and vowed to be the picture of good cheer if Jamie assured her that her calendar was empty—barren even.
“I don’t have any clients…” Another long bout of coughing. “But I do have the contest winners. And Joy, that was pretty much going to be an all-day affair. Publicity photos, lunch, shopping…”
“Oh, no.”
Harrington and Vine’s had partnered with King’s Mall to offer a Christmas Eve shopping spree for one lucky family. And it looked as if one unlucky store manager was going to fill in for a flu-ridden Personal Shopper and assist them.
Dashing Through the Mall: Santa, BabyAssignment HumbugDeck the Halls Page 17
