Millionaire's Christmas Miracle

by Mary Anne Wilson

  “That’s all fascinating, but that doesn’t explain how he ended up here on Christmas Eve, half-naked.” Her smile faded a bit. “Listen, Amy, you don’t have to explain any of this. It’s been two years since Rob died, and that’s a long two years.”

  Her stomach twisted. “It isn’t like that. No. Never.”

  The smile was completely gone now. “Honey, don’t ever say never. You’re young and if—”

  “Jenn, please, don’t start.”

  “I’m not. I won’t. I just want you to know that if, and I’m saying ‘if’ you ever want to get on with your life—”

  “You make it sound as if I stopped my life, and have to restart it some way.”

  “Don’t you?” she asked softly. “Sweetie, do you think it’s normal to be still sleeping in that damn T-shirt after two years, just because Rob wore it so much?”

  She stood quickly, sick that Jenn had seen through her about the T-shirt. “He came here to get his wallet back, and Taylor spilled juice on his clothes. I offered to clean them for him. And in order for me to do that, he had to take them off.”

  She went back into the bathroom, picked up the jacket and returned to show the coat to Jenn. “See? He said it’s old and not worth much, but I need to clean it anyway.” She shook it out and something flipped into the air, landing with a faint plopping sound on top of one of the gold-wrapped presents. Her heart sank. His wallet.

  Jenn picked it up, then held it up to Amy. “Is this the wallet that’s given to wandering off on its own?”

  “Shoot,” she said, taking the wallet. “Stay here with Taylor. Maybe I can catch him before he takes off without it again.”

  “A bad habit,” she heard Jenn say as she ran out the door. She hurried down into the lobby and through the security door that hadn’t locked since she’d moved in, into the cold night, but she couldn’t see a limousine anywhere.

  The street was almost empty, with just a few cars passing by. No Quint. She looked down at the wallet, then turned and went back inside. “Shoot, shoot and double shoot,” she muttered as she trudged back up the two flights of stairs to the apartment.

  When she went in, she found Jenn and Taylor huddled over a new doll. Jenn looked up. “Sorry, we opened another one,” she said, motioning toward the doll. “I have a heck of a time saying no to this little thing.” Jenn glanced at the wallet in Amy’s hands. “I take it you didn’t catch him?”

  “No, not even close.”

  “He’ll be back,” Jenn said. “As soon as he figures out that he left the damn thing again.”

  That was what she was worried about. She sank down on the floor with the wallet still in her hands. “He knows where I live,” she muttered.

  “Oh, by the way?” Jenn said as Taylor took the bonnet off the baby doll. “The suit coat?”

  She looked up at Jenn who was reaching to snatch the jacket off the chair where she’d dropped it before going outside. “What about it?”

  “It’s not going to get clean. It’s ruined.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Very sure,” she said, touching the damp spots on the front. “The juice is so acidy…” She shrugged. “That just ruins that kind of material.”

  “Great. Now, I’ll have to get him another one.”

  “Sweetie, that sounds good, but do you have any idea what that jacket probably cost?”

  She shrugged. “He said it cost maybe two hundred dollars, and I’m thinking that means the pants and the jacket, and the pants were just fine, actually.”

  Jenn actually snorted at that. “Boy, either I’m losing my touch with fabric, or he’s delusional.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The jacket isn’t just a jacket, it’s a creation. It’s a Marno. Italian. Custom-made.”

  Her heart was starting to drop. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

  “I wish I was. Even the label isn’t a label, it’s a hand-embroidered statement on the lining over the heart,” she said as she reached for the jacket and opened it to show the lining in the front. She pointed at something that looked like an irregularity in the silky fabric, until she looked closer. It was a flourish in embroidery that looked as if it could have said, Marno, with numbers under it. She swallowed hard. “How much is it worth?”

  Jenn studied the jacket, felt the material, then touched the label before she looked back to Amy. “Honestly?”

  “Please, don’t lie to me, okay?”

  “Marno creations start at five thousand, and take six months’ worth of labor.”

  “Holy kamoley,” Amy breathed, as she sank back on her heels.

  “Listen, it obviously doesn’t mean very much to him. These things are all relative. And if he didn’t tell you how much it really costs, he doesn’t want your money.”

  “Of course, he felt sorry for me.” She hadn’t wanted his sympathy when she’d told him about being a widow, and she sure as heck didn’t want his pity.

  “You can’t afford to have another one made for him, and even if you could, you’d have to find the tailor with Marno who does his work and do it through him.” She touched Amy, covering her hands with hers. “Sweetie, don’t kill the wallet.”

  Amy looked down at the wallet she had been unconsciously twisting in her hands. She dropped it on the floor, and stared at it. There had to be a thousand dollars in it, and he hadn’t even remembered to take it again. Jenn was right. Money didn’t mean a lot to him. Taylor crawled into her lap and cuddled into her mommy, holding the doll to her. “I’ll worry about this later when I can think straight,” she said, kissing Taylor on the top of her head. She could feel the fever creeping back. “Right now, I need to give her some more medicine.”

  “I’ll get it. Just tell me where,” Jenn said, getting to her feet, the jingle bells ringing.

  “In the fridge, pink, in a bottle, and there’s a measuring cap on it.”

  Jenn crossed to the kitchen, jingling all the way. “How about you, do you need a drink?”

  She thought a whole bottle of something very strong wouldn’t be all bad, but she called after her sister-in-law, “Maybe later.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Jenn said from the kitchen. “Why don’t you two come to my place and spend the night?” She peeked around the corner and into the room. “We could do the whole S–A–N–T–A thing.” She ducked back into the kitchen. “We could do stockings and everything.”

  Amy felt Taylor sigh as she relaxed, and she looked around the tiny apartment. “That might be a good idea.”

  “Great. Are you sure you don’t want anything right now?”

  “Five thousand dollars,” she muttered.

  “What did you say?”

  “A miracle for Christmas,” she said, and was startled by the phone ringing. “Can you get that?” she called to Jenn, not wanting to get up and disturb Taylor.

  “Sure.” Jenn came back into the room holding the bottle of medicine and the dose cup, grabbed the phone on her way, and as she said, “Hello,” into the phone, she handed the medicine and dose cup to Amy.

  She frowned slightly as she listened, then smiled. “Oh, yes, of course. We found it right after you left.” Quint. Amy watched Jenn. “Of course, of course. Just a minute.” Jenn pulled the receiver down to press it into her chest and spoke to Amy in a low voice. “It’s him, and he asked me to ask you when you’d be back at LynTech working so he can get his wallet?”

  She felt very relieved he wouldn’t show up on her doorstep again. “I don’t know. Maybe the day after Christmas, maybe not until a few days after Christmas. It all depends on Taylor and how she’s doing.”

  Jenn put the phone back up to her ear. “She doesn’t know,” she said, editing the whole statement down to a three-word sentence. “Do you want to come back and get it now?”

  “No, no,” Amy protested, waving the hand that held the medicine in the air to get her sister-in-law’s attention.

  But Jenn ignored her and said, “I don’t see why
not.”

  “Jenn, don’t let him come back,” she whispered tensely. “Tell him we’re going away, anything.”

  “If you’re sure?” Jenn turned her back slightly to Amy, obviously shutting out her gesticulating and hissing whispers. “Okay, sure, no problem.” She hung up the phone, then turned to Amy. “Well, that’s settled.”

  “I told you not to let him come back here,” she said, annoyed with Jenn for what could have been the first time since they’d met. “I don’t want him here.”

  Jenn dropped down by them again, jingling as she settled. “Don’t look so scared. He’s not coming back tonight.”

  “I’m not scared,” she said, but knew that was a lie. “So, what were you agreeing to?”

  “He wanted to know if you could drop it off with the concierge at the hotel tomorrow sometime? I told him okay.”

  “Oh, Jenn, it’s Christmas.”

  “So, between the turkey that I’m going to make, and the pumpkin pie that I’ve bought from that little bakery down the street, either you or I can run it over to the hotel and leave it. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  She shifted Taylor, trying to get the lid off the medicine and pour a dose in the little cup. “It would make more sense if I knew what hotel he was staying at.”

  Jenn took the bottle from her, undid the lid and asked, “How much?”

  “The second line,” she said, holding up the little cup for Jenn to pour the medication into it. “That’s it,” she said, then spoke to Taylor. “Come on, baby, a little nummies to make you feel better.”

  Taylor turned her head away, burying her face in her mommy’s chest. “No want,” she mumbled.

  “Tay-bug, please, take the meddies, it’ll help you feel a whole lot better.”

  “Tay?” Jenn said, getting close and speaking softly. “If you take your meddies, Santa will bring you something extra-special wonderful in the morning.”

  Taylor twisted, looked at Jenn. “Santa? Get Bonkies?”

  Jenn looked at Amy. “Bonkies?”

  “It’s this little dog that jumps and barks by itself.”

  Jenn brushed at Taylor’s fine hair. “Sure, Santa will get Bonkies for you.”

  “Jenn, they cost eighty dollars.”

  Jenn shrugged. “She’s worth it. Tay-bug gets Bonkies.”

  That did the trick and Taylor took the medicine, then twisted to bury her face in Amy’s chest again. “Thanks,” Amy whispered to Jenn as the other woman took the medicine dispenser. “Now, how in the heck are we supposed to get that wallet to a hotel in the city when we don’t know what hotel to take it to?”

  “No problem. He said he’s staying at the Towers, downtown, near that restaurant-row thing. Do you know it?”

  The Towers. Hundreds of dollars a night for a room, and the suite went for a lot more, but it seemed like the place for a man to wear a five-thousand-dollar suit. “I know it, but what if Taylor’s still sick tomorrow?”

  “I’ll stay with her while you go. I’ve got that turkey to do, but heaven knows, it’s a little off-putting to read the recipe and see the phrase ‘insert your hand in the body cavity of the bird.”’ She gave a mock shudder. “Maybe I’ll let you invade the bird and I’ll see the concierge. Whatever works out.” She sat back. “Now, let’s get going. I’ve got to find a B–O–N–K–I–E somewhere and do the S–T–O–C–K– I–N–G–S.” Jenn reached for Taylor. “I’ll hold her, and you get what you need for tonight.”

  Amy transferred Taylor to Jenn, then stood and went to put a bag together for the two of them. When she came back into the room, Jenn was in the rocking chair with Taylor sleeping in her arms. “Got everything?” Jenn asked in a whisper.

  “Almost.” She crossed to the TV and reached for Rob’s T-shirt, stuffing it in the bag before Jenn could see her doing it. Then she went back and touched Jenn on the arm. “I’ll take the things out to your car, then come back and get you and Taylor. Okay?”

  “Perfect.” Jenn glanced over at the floor where they’d been sitting. “You might want to pick that wallet up on the way.”

  Amy spotted the wallet and stooped to get it. “I’ll be up in a minute,” she said, carrying the overnight bag out with her. As she went down the hallway, she opened the top zipper of the bag and pushed the wallet inside.

  Three days after Christmas

  SHADOWS were gathering in the corners of the office on the twentieth floor when Quint sat back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head in an effort to ease the tension in his shoulders and neck. There was a lot more work to be done at LynTech than he’d thought, but he had been warned. When Matt Terrel had talked to him the night before he’d flown back to Houston, he’d admitted that this wasn’t going to be easy. Robert Lewis had run the company for years with an open heart and an open wallet.

  Quint knew that was true. The figures and prospectus were in trouble. Nothing fatal, but it was going to take a lot of figuring to pull this out. He wanted to talk directly to Zane Holden, because they’d only talked on the phone before. But the man was off on a honeymoon in Aspen. Now Matt Terrel was talking about leaving for a week after his own marriage, a private affair on New Year’s Eve. “Talk about rats deserting a sinking ship,” he muttered as he stood.

  He turned to the windows, to the city below with Christmas decorations still up, but there was something almost forlorn about them, as if they were a bit out of place. The way he’d felt many times before. Maybe that was why he was a bit annoyed at the two top men of LynTech taking off at the worst of times for the company. Maybe the company was in more trouble than even he could see if the executive level put so much ahead of the welfare of the corporation.

  He rolled down the sleeves of the dove-gray shirt he was wearing, then reached for the dark, double-breasted business jacket. As he shrugged it on, he automatically felt for his wallet in the inside breast pocket. It was a habit he’d developed since Amy had dropped the wallet off with the concierge on Christmas Day. That habit had been born after meeting Amy, and so had the habit of checking the sign-in book at the front desk when he came to work each day.

  With the company basically shut down between Christmas and New Year, anyone coming into the building to work had to sign in. Quint checked every morning for the names above his own signature, and every morning he saw A. Blake. She was there, but he didn’t go and check for himself. The only thing he gave in to was to call down to the new center yesterday and ask how Taylor was doing.

  No one had answered the phone.

  He reached for his briefcase and crossed the room, his mind filled with thoughts of Amy and Taylor. The daughter splashed juice all over and the mother threw rats. He flipped off the lights and left the office, heading for the elevators. Quite a pair. He took the car down, stepped out and found himself facing the same doors he’d faced every day since he’d been here—the doors to Just for Kids, bright colors and the logo imprinted in his mind.

  He’d done what he’d done every day since Christmas, called down to let security know he was leaving, then gone directly to the back and into the security parking area without seeing Amy.

  He headed toward the car he’d leased, a midnight-blue Mercedes SUV. A flash of movement caught his eye and he turned to see Walt, the security guard, coming out the back door. “Sir?” he called when he spotted Quint. “There you are. Just a minute.”

  The guard crossed to him and held out an envelope. “I forgot when you called down, but Mrs. Blake asked me to give you this when you left.”

  He took the envelope bearing the company logo on the top left corner. “Thanks,” he murmured, and as the guard turned with a, “Have a good evening,” Quint opened the envelope and took out a piece of folded paper. When he opened it, more paper fell out of it and fluttered to the concrete floor.

  He stooped and picked it up, a check made out to him by Amy Blake for fifty dollars. He looked at the paper that had come with it:

  I appreciate the truth. Your jacket is ruined. I’ll pay
you each week until it’s paid for.

  A.

  That was it.

  He looked up, but the guard was gone and the door was closed. Fifty dollars? Damn it, he’d told her not to worry about it. She couldn’t afford fifty dollars. He knew that. He went back inside and spotted Walt near the front lobby.

  “Walt?”

  The guard stopped and turned. “Yes, sir? A problem?”

  “When did Mrs. Blake give you this for me?”

  “Oh, around noon, I guess. She just said to give it to you when you left.”

  “Has she left?”

  “I don’t think so. At least, she hasn’t signed out.”

  “Okay, thanks,” he said.

  “Yes, sir. Have a good evening.” The guard touched the peak of his cap before turning and going back toward his station in the lobby.

  Quint stood there, the check in one hand, his briefcase in the other. He wasn’t going to let her do this. He turned to the doors for the center, hesitated for just a moment, then crossed and pushed them back to go and find Amy.

  Instead of the scent of gingerbread greeting Quint this time, the odor of paint hung in the air and music was playing softly, lullabies of some sort. As he let the door close after him, he saw that the twinkle lights were still highlighting the tree, but there was no woman climbing out of the opening. Instead, Taylor was there, lying on a blanket on the floor, sleeping, cuddled up with a teddy bear and a doll with hair as blond as the child’s was dark.

  He moved closer and saw Amy off to the right, dressed in jeans and a loose blue sweater. She was on her hands and knees, the way she’d been the first time he’d found her here. But this time there was no rat, only what looked like a white stain on the carpet. She was using a brush, scrubbing at the stain.

  He braced himself as he went closer. Her hair was tied back in a low ponytail and her feet were bare. She rubbed the brush over the stain, and he could vaguely hear her humming to the music. She looked so tiny, so…He stopped. He had a reason to be here and it wasn’t to admire her.

  He didn’t want to talk too loudly and wake Taylor, so he stopped by Amy and said in a half whisper, “Excuse me?”