A Christmas Message

by Debbie Macomber

  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.

  Chapter Eleven

  People are funny. They want the front of the bus,

  the middle of the road and the back of the church.

  —Mrs. Miracle

  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 sa
id.

  “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 childre
n. 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.

  Chapter Twelve

  Be ye fishers of men. You catch ’em

  and God’ll clean ’em.

  —Mrs. Miracle

  “Can I go see Telly the robot after school?” Gabe asked as Holly walked him to school Monday morning.

  “Not today,” she said, stepping up her speed so she’d make it to work on time. The last thing she needed was to show up late. As it was, Gabe would get out of school at eleven-thirty this morning for winter break, and there was no after-school care today. Thankfully her neighbor Caroline Krantz had children of her own, including a son, Jonathan, who was Gabe’s age, and Gabe enjoyed going there. Today, however, he obviously had a different agenda.

  “But it’s been so long since I saw him and I want—”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Gabe. But Christmas will be here soon,” she said, cutting him off.

  “Do you think Santa’s going to bring me my robot?”

  “We won’t find out until Christmas, will we?” she said, ushering him along. At the school, she bent down and kissed his cheek. “Remember, you’re going to Mrs. Krantz’s house with Jonathan after school.”