Slay Bells and Satchels (Haley Randolph Mystery Series)
Page 12
Christmas trees circled the receiving area, all decorated and sparkling with white twinkle lights. Long buffet tables covered with green cloths were filled with a vast assortment of food and drinks. Tables and chairs had been set up, featuring red linens and lighted-candle centerpieces.
The big doors were rolled up, and outside I could see two catering trucks. Servers in crisp white jackets, wearing red Santa hats, continued to bring dishes inside.
The store employees—looking as mystified as I felt—clung together in small groups, whispering. Luckily, everyone was too caught up in the moment to ask why I’d been chasing Alyssa through the store, or why the cops had showed up.
Ty joined Jeanette and some of the other department managers. I found Bella and Sandy.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I guess it’s got something to do with the contest,” Bella said.
“Wow,” Sandy said. “If this is what we get for coming in last, can you imagine what the first-place store won?”
“Everyone!” Jeanette called. “Please take a seat!”
We all scrambled into chairs.
“Let’s hear it!” Jeanette said. “Ho-ho-Holt’s for the holiday!”
Everyone—but me---cheered along.
Jeanette introduced Ty. He was an eloquent speaker and always sounded sincere. He launched into a thank-you to all the employees for their blah, blah, blah, and I drifted off. I snapped back to attention when he paused and drew a big breath.
“It’s with great pleasure and appreciation,” Ty said, “that I award first place honors in the children’s charity contest to this store.”
First place? First place? To this store?
A stunned silence fell over the employees, all of us frozen with what-the-heck looks on our faces. Then, finally, everybody broke into applause.
“Last night, we thought we knew which store was our contest winner—and it wasn’t this store,” Ty said, and grinned.
The employees chuckled along with him.
“But all of that changed this morning,” he went on. “Two large donations came in, pushing this store into first place by a wide margin.”
Everyone looked around, wondering who had worked the Christmas miracle that had pulled off the win for us.
“One person made this possible though extraordinary dedication to Holt’s programs,” Ty said.
Somebody who worked here had extraordinary dedication to Holt’s?
“That person not only put this store in first place,” Ty said, “but garnered the most donations of anyone in any store, in the history of the Holt’s department stores.”
There’s always at least one kiss-ass at every job.
“It is my privilege and honor to announce that person is,” Ty said, and paused for effect, “Haley Randolph.”
Everybody’s—I swear—everybody’s mouth fell open—including mine.
“No way!” somebody called out.
“Are you sure?” someone else shouted.
Ty gave an I-can’t-believe-it-either-shrug and said, “Haley has made all of you big winners today.”
Applause erupted. The employees around me patted me on the back and shook my hand. Cheers went up.
“Great job, Haley,” the big guy from Men’s Wear said.
“I knew you’d pull off something at the last minute,” a girl nearby said.
“Oh, Haley, you rock!” Sandy said.
“This is b.s.,” Bella said, then gave me a huge smile. “But I’ll take it.”
Oh my God. I couldn’t believe it. What donations? I hadn’t gotten any donations. This had to be some humongous Corporate screw up.
Still, I figured they’d straighten it out sooner or later, so why not enjoy the moment?
I rose from my chair, smiling my mom’s beauty-queen smile, executing the royal elbow-elbow-wrist-wrist crowd-wave the British had perfected so beautifully.
I sat down and the room quieted.
“Each employee will receive a three-hundred-dollar Visa gift card,” Ty announced.
Oohs and aahs rose from the room.
“And Haley,” he went on, “will receive an all-expense-paid, seven-day cruise.”
Even though I was the only one who received the grand prize, everybody applauded, which was nice.
“Thank you all very much for your hard work and for supporting Holt’s programs,” Ty said. He gestured toward the buffet tables. “Please, help yourselves.”
Everybody headed for the food. I made my way toward Ty.
“Congratulations, Haley,” he said, nodding his head in approval.
This didn’t seem like the best time to tell him I hadn’t gotten any donations, so what could I say but, “Thanks.”
Ty touched my arm and urged me away from the other employees. He leaned down and said, “Alton and Sable have never contributed to our charity drive before. You must have really talked it up at their party last night.”
The Staffords had made a large donation? In my name?
Okay, that was weird.
“But this other corporate donation you got,” Ty said, frowning. “I’ve never heard of them. Who is Jackson Blair, and what is Blair Group International?”
I gasped. Oh my God.
“Ty?” Jeanette called. “The photographer is ready when you are.”
He looked back at me, and I said, “It’s fine, go ahead.”
“We want you in some of the shots,” Ty said.
“Sure, just let me go fix my hair,” I said.
Ty and Jeanette left. I whipped out my cell phone and texted Jack. A few seconds later, my phone rang.
“Are you ready for some good news?” he asked when I answered.
“I’ve got a question for you,” I said.
“I’m outside.”
I paused. “The store?”
“Looks like a nice party,” he said.
I walked to the big loading bay doors and looked out. It was dark. Security lights burned softly. I spotted Jack’s Land Rover.
“Meet me at the side of the building,” I said, and hung up.
I glanced around, saw that Ty and Jeanette were busy on the other side of the stockroom, then skipped down the stairs and around the corner.
Jack pulled up and parked. He got out looking hot-private-detective-fabulous in jeans and a gray shirt.
“Brooke sends her love,” he said.
That could only mean one thing.
“She got Hope back? Already?” I asked.
Jack gave me a modest smile.
“I paid the Staffords a visit first thing this morning,” he said. “I showed them the video.”
“They must have been so mad,” I said.
He thought for a few seconds. “I think ‘foolish’ best describes how they felt. They’d hired a security team. They thought they couldn’t get caught. Then I presented them with proof that I—and that meant anyone—could walk into their home, expose what they were doing, and take that little girl away from them.”
“The Staffords have so much money and power,” I said. “That must have been a hard blow for them to accept.”
“I think the possibility of a public scandal, a criminal indictment, and a civil lawsuit was uppermost in their minds,” he said.
Jack had walked right into the home of a very wealthy, well-connected couple and pulled this off. It was so hot.
“So they gave Brooke’s daughter back?” I asked.
“I drove her home immediately,” he said.
I imagined the scene. Brooke, surprised, falling to her knees, screaming, crying, laughing, holding her little girl tight in her arms.
“It was …” Jack cleared his throat. “Anyway, the Staffords promised to behave themselves in the future, and not cause any more problems with Hope.”
“Like it matters,” I said. “Brooke will never let them see her daughter again.”
“Brooke is quite a woman,” Jack said. “She still wants Alton and Sable to be a part of their granddaughte
r’s life.”
I didn’t know if I could be that big-hearted.
“But no more sleepovers,” Jack said. “Brooke knows this wouldn’t have happened without your help. She said to tell you ‘thanks,’ and if you need anything—ever—to let her know.”
“I’m just glad I could help,” I said.
Then something popped into my mind.
“Is she planning to keep living in the house she and Chris bought?” I asked. “The one she mentioned, with the guest quarters out back?”
He shrugged. “As far as I know.”
“I’ve got this friend. She’s a really great person. She’s desperately looking for a roommate,” I said. “But I’m thinking that it would be better if she gave up her apartment, and Brooke could let her live in the guest quarters rent-free.”
Jack considered it. “You’ll vouch for her?”
“Heck, yeah,” I said. “Her name is Jasmine Grady and she’s going to be a fantastic actress.”
“I’ll call Brooke right away,” Jack promised.
He nodded toward the store. “So you’re the big winner in the contest, huh?” he asked.
“Thanks to you,” I said. “You told Alton and Sable Stafford to make that big donation, didn’t you?”
“They were anxious to make reparations,” he said. “I suggested it and they were happy to oblige.”
Somehow, I doubted that was the full story, but I let it go.
“What about the donation from Blair Group International?” I asked.
He gave me a modest smile.
“You’re still on my ‘naughty’ list,” I said.
“‘Naughty’ is what I do best,” he said.
My knees wobbled a little
“It was nice of you to make the donation for the children’s charity,” I said.
“But?” Jack asked, leaning toward me a little, like he knew I had something else on my mind—which I did, but it didn’t suit me that he could read me so easily.
“But what you really wanted was that Breathless handbag,” Jack said. “You know, Santa is watching. Have you been a good girl this year?”
“Not really,” I said.
Jack grinned. He reached inside his Land Rover and pulled out a blue gift bag.
“Merry Christmas,” he said.
All my senses jumped to high alert. My heart rate sped up. My breathing quickened.
“You didn’t.” I said that really quietly.
Jack kept grinning.
“Did you?” I might have yelled that.
He gave me a little see-for-yourself shrug.
“Did you?” I’m pretty sure I screamed that.
I couldn’t stand it. I grabbed the gift bag, ripped out the tissue paper, and looked inside.
Light beamed down from above, and—I swear—angels started singing. Really.
I lifted a Breathless satchel, in all its buttery red leather glory, out of the bag.
Oh my God. It was gorgeous. Perfect. Exactly what I wanted.
“Thank you.” I screamed that really loud.
I probably should have hugged Jack, but I clutched the Breathless in my arms instead—which, really, was for the best.
“I have to lock this in the trunk of my car,” I said.
I couldn’t take it back inside to the party with Ty in there—not that I intended to keep a secret from my official boyfriend, but still, timing in life was crucial and tonight simply wasn’t the moment to mention it.
“I’ll give you a lift,” Jack said.
I hopped into his Land Rover and he drove around to the front of the store where my car was parked. I didn’t have my purse with me, but I always kept a key in one of those little magnetic boxes in case of emergency.
Jack pulled up next to my Honda and I got out.
A huge sense of relief came over me. Not only had I gotten the fabulous Breathless satchel of my dreams and won a seven-day cruise, but all the bad stuff I’d been dealing with lately had been resolved.
The whole McKenna murder investigation was behind me. No more talking to suspects and hunting for clues. No more suspecting nice people of doing something horrible. And—thank goodness—no more Trent Daniels.
The Summer Santa Sale was over and done with. The store employees were speaking to me again. No more elf costume, no more ho-ho-Holt’s-for the holidays, no more asking for donations—not that I’d done that, but still.
I circled the front of my Honda to get my key from under the fender and I noticed something stuck under my windshield wiper blade. It looked like a flyer, one of those advertisements for a free oil change or a new nail shop.
Then I noticed that it wasn’t a piece of paper. It was an envelope.
Okay, that was weird.
I pulled it out from under the wiper blade and opened it.
A photo was inside.
My weird feeling got weirder.
I pulled it out.
It was a picture of me. I’d never seen it before.
How crazy was that?
In the photo I was standing on a sidewalk outside an apartment building. A man was standing next to me. I was gazing up at him with a serious look on my face.
Jeez, where had this thing come from? I’d never—
Then it hit me.
Oh my God. That was Trent Daniels’ apartment building. And the guy I was gazing up at was—him.
Trent had Photoshopped us into the picture together.
Oh, crap.
THE END
Epilogue
Dear Reader,
There’s more Haley out there! If you enjoyed this novella, check out the four full-length novels in the series. All of them are available from Kensington Books in hardcover, paperback, and ebook formats.
Handbags and Homicide (first in the series)
Haley’s life goes from glam to grim when she’s forced to take a job at Holt’s Department Store, and discovers her boss dead in the stockroom.
Purses and Poison (second in the series)
Haley substitutes for a sick waiter at a Holt’s luncheon only to realize she’s served the fruit arrangement that poisoned her boyfriend’s ex.
Shoulder Bags and Shootings (third in the series)
Life is going great for Haley—until she discovers her rival in the purse party business dead in the trunk of the Mercedes she borrowed from her boyfriend’s grandmother.
Clutches and Curses (fourth in the series)
When an irate Holt’s customer puts a curse on Haley, she escapes to Las Vegas to help prepare a new store for its grand opening, and discovers her high school rival dead in a dressing room. Has the curse followed her, or what?
More information is available at www.DorothyHowellNovels.com and at my Dorothy Howell Novels fan page on Facebook.
If you’re in the mood for a little romance, I also write historical romance novels under the pen name Judith Stacy. Check them out at www.JudithStacy.com.
I couldn’t have written this novella without the support of a lot of people. Some of them are: David Howell, Judith Howell, Stacy Howell, Evie Cook, the gifted team at Web Crafters, and William F. Wu, Ph.D.
Thanks for giving the Haley Randolph series a try!
Happy reading!
Dorothy
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
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