By the time she reached his front door, she was so dizzy she’d become light-headed. That didn’t deter her from ringing the buzzer and waiting for what felt like an eternity.
Only it wasn’t Wynn who opened the door. It was Max.
“Katherine,” he said, obviously surprised to find her at his son’s door. “Come in.”
“Is Wynn available?” she asked, as winded as if she’d climbed the stairs instead of taking the elevator. Talking to Wynn—now—had assumed a sense of urgency.
Wynn stepped into the foyer and frowned when he saw her. “Katherine?” She could see the question in his eyes.
“Merry Christmas,” Max said. He didn’t seem inclined to leave.
“Could we talk?” she asked. “Privately?” She was terrified he’d tell her that everything had already been said, so she rushed to add, “Really, this will only take a moment and then I’ll leave.”
Wynn glanced at his father, who took the hint and reluctantly left the entryway.
K.O. remained standing there, clutching her purse with one hand and the pink box with the other. “I was out at the French Café and I talked to Alix.”
“Alix?”
“She’s one of the bakers and a friend of Lydia’s—and Lydia’s the lady who owns A Good Yarn. But that’s not important. What is important is that Alix received an engagement ring for Christmas. She’s so happy and in love, and Lydia is, too, and Susannah from the flower shop and just about everyone on the street. It’s so full of Christmas out there, and all at once it came to me that...that I couldn’t let this Christmas pass with things between us the way they are.” She stopped to take a deep breath.
“Katherine, I—”
“Please let me finish, otherwise I don’t know if I’ll have the courage to continue.”
He motioned for her to speak.
“I’m so sorry, Wynn, for everything. For wanting to be right and then subjecting you to Zoe and Zara. Their behavior did change after Zelda read your book and while I can’t say I agree with everything you—”
“This is an apology?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I’m trying. I’m sincerely trying. Please hear me out.”
He crossed his arms and looked away. In fact, he seemed to find something behind her utterly fascinating.
This wasn’t the time to lose her courage. She went on, speaking quickly, so quickly that the words practically ran together. “Basically, I wanted to tell you it was rude of me to assume I knew more than you on the subject of children. It was presumptuous and self-righteous. I was trying to prove how wrong you were...are, and that I was right. To be honest, I don’t know what’s right or wrong. All I know is how much I miss you and how much it hurts that you’re out of my life.”
“I’m the one who’s been presumptuous and self-righteous,” Wynn said. “You are right, Katherine, about almost everything. It hasn’t been easy for me to accept that, let alone face it.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, aren’t you two going to kiss and make up?” Max demanded, coming back into the foyer. Apparently he’d been standing in the living room, out of sight, and had listened in on every word. “Wynn, if you let this woman walk away, then you’re a fool. An even bigger fool than you know.”
“I—I...” Wynn stuttered.
“You’ve been in love with her for weeks.” Max shook his head as if this was more than obvious.
Wynn pinned his father with a fierce glare.
“You love me?” K.O. asked, her voice rising to a squeak. “Because I’m in love with you, too.”
A light flickered in his eyes at her confession. “Katherine, I appreciate your coming. However, this is serious and it’s something we both need to think over. It’s too important—we can’t allow ourselves to get caught up in emotions that are part of the holidays. We’ll talk after Christmas, all right?”
“I can’t do that,” she cried.
“Good for you,” Max shouted, encouraging her. “I’m going to phone LaVonne. This calls for champagne.”
“What does?” Wynn asked.
“Us,” she explained. “You and me. I love you, Wynn, and I can’t bear the thought that I won’t see you again. It’s tearing me up. I don’t need time to think about us. I already know how I feel, and if what your father says is true, you know how you feel about me.”
“Well, I do need to think,” he insisted. “I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do yet, because I can’t continue promoting a book whose theories I can no longer wholly support. Let me deal with that first.”
“No,” she said. “Love should come first.” She stared into his eyes. “Love changes everything, Wynn.” Then, because it was impossible to hold back for another second, she put down her purse and the Yule log and threw her arms around him.
Wynn was stiff and unbending, and then his arms circled her, too. “Are you always this stubborn?” he asked.
“Yes. Sometimes even more than this. Ask Zelda.”
Wynn kissed her. His arms tightened around her, as if he found it hard to believe she was actually there in his embrace.
“That’s the way to handle it,” Max said from somewhere behind them.
Wynn and K.O. ignored him.
“He’s been a real pain these last few days,” Max went on. “But this should improve matters.”
Wynn broke off the kiss and held her gaze. “We’ll probably never agree on everything.”
“Probably.”
“I can be just as stubborn as you.”
“That’s questionable,” she said with a laugh.
His lips found hers again, as if he couldn’t bear not to kiss her. Each kiss required a bit more time and became a bit more involved.
“I don’t believe in long courtships,” he murmured, his eyes still closed.
“I don’t, either,” she said. “And I’m going to want children.”
He hesitated.
“We don’t need all the answers right this minute, do we, Dr. Jeffries?”
“About Santa—”
She interrupted him, cutting off any argument by kissing him. What resistance there was didn’t last.
“I was about to suggest we could bring Santa out from beneath that sleigh,” he whispered, his eyes briefly fluttering open.
“Really?” This was more than she’d dared hope.
“Really.”
She’d been more than willing to forgo Santa as long as she had Wynn. But Santa and Wynn was better yet.
“No hamsters, though,” he said firmly.
“Named Freddy,” she added.
Wynn chuckled. “Or anything else.”
The doorbell chimed and Max hurried to answer it, ushering LaVonne inside. The instant she saw Wynn and K.O. in each other’s arms, she clapped with delight. “Didn’t I tell you everything would work out?” she asked Max.
“You did, indeed.”
LaVonne nodded sagely. “I think I may have psychic powers, after all. I saw it all plain as day in the leaves of my poinsettia,” she proclaimed. “Just before Max called, two of them fell to the ground—together.”
Despite herself, K.O. laughed. Until a few minutes ago, her love life had virtually disappeared. Now there was hope, real hope for her and Wynn to learn from each other and as LaVonne’s prophecy—real or imagined—implied, grow together instead of apart.
“Champagne, anyone?” Max asked, bringing out a bottle.
Wynn still held K.O. and she wasn’t objecting. “I need to hire you,” he whispered close to her ear.
“Hire me?”
“I’m kind of late with my Christmas letter this year and I wondered if I could convince you to write one for me.”
“Of course. It’s on the house.” With his arms around her waist, she leaned back and looked up at him. “Is there anything in particular
you’d like me to say?”
“Oh, yes. You can write about the success of my first published book—and explain that there’ll be a retraction in the next edition.” He winked. “Or, if you prefer, you could call it a compromise.”
K.O. smiled.
“And then I want you to tell my family and friends that I’m working on a new book that’ll be called The Happy Child, and it’ll be about creating appropriate boundaries within the Free Child system of parenting.”
K.O. rewarded him with a lengthy kiss that left her knees weak. Fortunately, he had a firm hold on her, and she on him.
“You can also mention the fact that there’s going to be a wedding in the family.”
“Two weddings,” Max inserted as he handed LaVonne a champagne glass.
“Two?” LaVonne echoed shyly.
Max nodded, filling three more glasses. “Wynn and K.O.’s isn’t the only romance that started out rocky. The way I figure it, if I can win Tom over, his mistress shouldn’t be far behind.”
“Oh, Max!”
“Is there anything else you’d like me to say in your Christmas letter?” K.O. asked Wynn.
“Oh, yes, there’s plenty more, but I think we’ll leave it for the next Christmas letter and then the one after that.” He brought K.O. close once more and hugged her tight.
She loved being in his arms—and in his life. Next year’s Christmas letter would be from both of them. It would be all about how happy they were...and every word would be true.
* * *
Call Me Mrs. Miracle
To
Dan and Sally Wigutow
and
Caroline Moore
in appreciation for bringing
Mrs. Miracle
to life
Contents
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
Chapter 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 f
ather 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.”
A Christmas Message Page 16
