Call Me Mrs Miracle. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
she said. “Not at all. Bill and I weren’t really meant to be together. I think we both realized that early on, only neither of us was ready to be honest about it.”
“Mmm.” Mickey made a sound of agreement. “Things are going better with Gabe, aren’t they?”
“Much better.”
“Good.”
“He’s adjusting and so am I.” This past week seemed to have been a turning point. They were more at ease with each other. Gabe had made new friends and was getting used to life without his father—and with her. She knew she insisted on rules Mickey didn’t bother with—like making their beds every morning, drinking milk with breakfast and, of course, putting the toilet seat down. But Gabe hardly complained at all anymore.
“What was it he told Santa he wanted for Christmas?” Mickey asked.
“So he emailed you about the visit with Santa, did he?”
“Yup, he sent the email right after he got home. He seemed quite excited.”
“It’s Intellytron the SuperRobot.”
At her reference to the toy, Gabe’s eyes lit up and he nodded vigorously.
“We found them in Finley’s Department Store. Mrs. Miracle, the woman Gabe mentioned, works there...and Jake does, too.”
“Didn’t Gabe tell me Jake’s name is Finley?” Mickey asked. “He said he heard Mrs. Miracle call him that—Mr. Finley. Is he related to the guy who owns the store?”
“Y-e-s.” How dense could she be? Holly felt like slapping her forehead. She’d known his name was Finley from the beginning and it hadn’t meant a thing to her. But now... now she realized Jake was probably related to the Finley family—was possibly even the owner’s son. No wonder he could afford to live where he did. He hadn’t given the price of the carriage ride or the car service a second thought, either.
She had the sudden, awful feeling that she was swimming in treacherous waters and there wasn’t a life preserver in sight.
“Holly?”
“I...I think he must be.” She’d been so caught up in her juvenile fantasies, based on the coincidence of their meetings, that she hadn’t paid attention to anything else.
“You sound like this is shocking news.”
“I hadn’t put two and two together,” she confessed.
“And now you’re scared.”
“I guess I am.”
“Don’t be. He puts his pants on one leg at a time like everyone else, if you’ll pardon the cliché. He’s just a guy.”
“Right.”
“You don’t seem too sure of that.”
Holly wasn’t. A chill had overtaken her and she hugged herself with one arm. “I need to think about this.”
“While you’re thinking, tell me more about this robot that’s got my son so excited.”
“It’s expensive.”
“How...expensive?”
Holly heard the hesitation in her brother’s voice. He had his own financial problems. “Don’t worry—I’ve got it. This is on me.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Positive.” The Christmas bonus checks were due the following Friday. If all went well, hers should cover the price of the toy with enough left over for a really special Christmas dinner.
Christmas.
When she woke that morning, still warm under the covers, Holly’s first thought had been of Jake. She’d had the craziest idea that...well, it was out of the question now.
What Jake had confided about his mother and sister had nearly broken her heart. The tragedy had not only robbed him of his mother and sibling, it had destroyed his pleasure in Christmas. Holly had hoped to change that, but the mere notion seemed ridiculous now. She’d actually planned to invite Jake to spend Christmas Day with her and Gabe. She knew now that he’d never accept. He was a Finley, after all, a man whose background was vastly different from her own.
Half-asleep, she’d pictured the three of them sitting around her table, a lovely golden-brown turkey with sage stuffing resting in the center. She’d imagined Christmas music playing and the tree lights blinking merrily, enhancing the celebratory mood. She couldn’t believe she’d even considered such a thing, knowing what she did now.
“I have a Christmas surprise coming your way,” Mickey said. “I’m just hoping it arrives in time for the holidays.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she assured her brother, dragging her thoughts away from Jake. She focused on her brother and nephew—which was exactly what she intended to do from this point forward. She needed to forget this romantic fantasy she’d invented within a day of meeting Jake Finley.
“I can guarantee Gabe will like it and so will you,” Mickey was saying.
Holly couldn’t begin to guess what Mickey might have purchased in Afghanistan for Christmas, but then her brother had always been full of surprises. He’d probably ordered something over the internet, she decided.
“Mom and Dad mailed us a package, as well,” she told him. “The box got here this week.”
“From Haiti? What would they be sending?”
“I don’t have a clue,” she said. Once the tree was up she’d arrange the gifts underneath it.
“You’re going to wait until Christmas morning, aren’t you?” he asked. “Don’t open anything before that.”
“Of course we’ll wait.” Even as kids, they’d managed not to peek at their gifts.
Mickey laughed, then grew serious. “This won’t be an ordinary Christmas, will it?”
Holly hadn’t dwelled on not being with her parents. Her father, a retired dentist, and her mother, a retired nurse, had offered their services in a health clinic for twelve months after the devastating earthquake. They’d been happy about the idea of giving back, and Holly had been happy for them. This Christmas was supposed to be Mickey, Gabe and her for the holidays—and then Mickey’s National Guard unit had been called up and he’d left to serve his country.
“It could be worse,” she said, and her thoughts involuntarily went to Jake and his father, who refused to celebrate Christmas at all.
“Next year everything will be different,” Mickey told her.
“Yes, it will,” she agreed.
Her brother spoke to Gabe for a few more minutes and then said goodbye. Gabe was pensive after the conversation with his father and so was Holly, but for different reasons.
“How about toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch?” she suggested, hoping to lighten the mood. “That was your dad’s and my favorite Sunday lunch when we were growing up.”
Gabe looked at her suspiciously. “What kind of cheese?”
Holly shrugged. “Regular cheese?” By that she meant the plastic-wrapped slices, Gabe’s idea of cheese.
“You won’t use any of that buffalo stuff, will you?”
She grinned. “Buffalo mozzarella. Nope, this is plain old sliced regular cheese in a package.”
“Okay, as long as the soup comes from a can. That’s the way Dad made it and that’s how I like it.”
“You got it,” she said, and moved into the kitchen.
Gabe sat on a stool and watched her work, leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter. Holly