Christmas Trio B. Debbie Macomber

elevators, so they still had a few minutes of relative peace. Jake decided to take advantage of it by questioning his rather unusual employee.

      “I thought I saw you on Saturday night,” he commented in a nonchalant voice, watching her closely.

      “Me?” she asked.

      Jake noted that she looked a bit sheepish. “Did you happen to take a walk around Central Park around ten or ten-thirty?”

      “My heavens, no! After spending all day on my feet, the last thing I’d do is wander aimlessly around Central Park. At that time of night, no less.” Her expression turned serious. “What makes you ask?”

      “I could’ve sworn that was you I saw across from the park.”

      She laughed as though the question was ludicrous. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

      “No.” Jake grew even more suspicious. Her nervous reaction seemed to imply that she wasn’t being completely truthful. “Don’t you remember? You suggested I take a stroll through the park.”

      “I said that?”

      “You did,” he insisted. He wasn’t about to be dismissed quite this easily. “You said it would help clear my head.”

      “After a long day at work? My goodness, what was I thinking?”

      Jake figured the question was rhetorical, so he didn’t respond. “I met Holly Larson and her nephew there,” he told her.

      “My, that was a nice coincidence, wasn’t it?”

      “Very nice,” he agreed.

      “Are you seeing her again?” the older woman asked.

      “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.” He didn’t share any details. The less she knew about his personal life, the better. Mrs. Miracle might appear to be an innocent senior citizen, but he had his doubts. Not that he suspected anything underhanded or nefarious. She seemed. Jake couldn’t come up with the right word. He liked Mrs. Miracle and she was an excellent employee, a natural saleswoman. And yet. He didn’t really know much about her.

      And what he did know didn’t seem to add up.

      Chapter Eight

       Aspire to inspire before you expire. —Mrs. Miracle

      Holly felt as if she was walking on air the rest of the way into the office. It didn’t matter how rotten her day turned out to be; no one was going to ruin it after her conversation with Jake.

      She’d spent a miserable Sunday and had worked herself into a state after she’d discovered Jake’s position with the department store. Son and heir. Now, having talked to him, she realized her concerns were irrelevant. Okay, so his family was rich and influential; that didn’t define him or say anything about the person he really was.

      The question that, inevitably, kept going around and around in her mind was why someone like Jake Finley would be interested in her. The reality was that he could have his pick of women. To further complicate the situation, she was taking care of Gabe. Lots of men would see her nephew as an encumbrance. Apparently not Jake.

      Holly was happy they’d gotten this settled. She felt reassured about his interest—and about the fact that he’d promised not to purchase the robot for her. Mickey had offered, too, but she knew he was financially strapped. Besides, getting Gabe this toy for Christmas—as her gift to him—was important to Holly.

      She couldn’t entirely explain why. Maybe because of Bill’s implication that she wasn’t good with kids. She had something to prove—if not to Bill or Mickey or even Jake, she had to prove it to herself. Nothing was going to keep her from making this the best possible Christmas for Gabe.

      Holly entered her cubicle outside Lindy Lee’s office and hung up her coat. She’d been surprised to find her boss in the office on Saturday afternoon and had tried to keep Gabe occupied so he wouldn’t pester her. Unfortunately, Holly’s efforts hadn’t worked. She’d caught Gabe with Lindy Lee twice. One look made her suspect Lindy didn’t really appreciate the intrusion. As soon as they’d finished putting up the decorations, Holly had dragged Gabe out with her. But this morning, as she looked around the office, she was pleased with her work. The bright red bulbs that hung outside her cubicle created an air of festivity. She couldn’t help it—she started singing “Jingle Bells.”

      “Where is that file?” Lindy Lee shouted. She was obviously in her usual Monday-morning bad mood. Her employer was sorting through her in-basket, cursing impatiently under her breath.

      Of course, Lindy Lee didn’t mention which file she needed. But deciphering vague demands was all part and parcel of Holly’s job. And fortunately she had a pretty good idea which one her boss required.

      Walking into Lindy Lee’s office, Holly reached across the top of the desk, picked up a file and handed it to her.

      Lindy Lee growled something back, opened the file and then smiled. “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome,” Holly said cheerfully.

      The designer eyed her suspiciously. “What are you so happy about?” she asked.

      “Nothing … I met up with a friend this morning, that’s all.”

      “I take it this friend is a man.”

      Holly nodded. “A very special man.”

      “Honey, don’t believe it.” She laughed as though to say Holly had a lot to learn about the opposite sex. “Men will break your heart before breakfast and flush it down the toilet just for fun.”

      Holly didn’t bother to explain about Jake. Lindy Lee’s experience with men might be far more extensive than her own, but it was obviously different. Jake would never do anything to hurt her; she was sure of it. Besides, Lindy Lee socialized in different circles—Jake’s circles, she realized with a start. Still, Holly couldn’t make herself believe Jake was the kind of man who’d mislead her. Even though they’d known each other so briefly, every instinct she had told her she could trust him, and she did.

      No irrational demand or bad temper was going to spoil her day, Holly decided. Because that evening she was seeing Jake.

      Holly guessed wrong. Her day was ruined.

      Early that afternoon she slipped back into her cubicle after delivering Lindy Lee’s latest sketches to the tech department, where they’d be translated into patterns, which would then be sewn up as samples. Lindy was talking to the bookkeeper and apparently neither one noticed that she’d returned.

      Holly hadn’t intended to listen in on the conversation, but it would’ve been impossible not to with Lindy Lee’s office door wide open. In Holly’s opinion, if Lindy wanted to keep the conversation private, then it was up to her to close the door.

      “Christmas bonuses are due this Friday,” Marsha, the bookkeeper, reminded their boss.

      “Due.” Lindy Lee pounced on the word. “Since when is a bonus due? It’s my understanding that a bonus is exactly that—a bonus—an extra that’s distributed at my discretion.”

      “Well, yes, but you’ve given us one every year since you went out on your own.”

      “That’s because I could afford to.”

      “You’ve had a decent year,” Marsha said calmly.

      Holly wanted to stand and cheer. Marsha was right; profits were steady despite the economy. The staff had worked hard, although their employer took them for granted. Lindy Lee didn’t appear to notice or value the team who backed her both personally and professionally. More times than she cared to count, Holly had dropped off and picked up Lindy’s dry cleaning or run errands for her. She often went above and beyond anything listed in her job description.

      Not once had she complained. The way Holly figured