Call Me Mrs. Miracle

by Debbie Macomber

  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

  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.

  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.

  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 ¼-inch thick. Using cookie cutters, cut dough into as many cookies as possible; reserve trimmings for rerolling.

  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 int
o 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.