Christmas Trio B. Debbie Macomber

considered impossible.

      Lindy Lee turned back to her computer, effectively dismissing Holly. Head whirling with the difficulty of her assignment, Holly returned to her own desk. She immediately got a list of nearby restaurants and began making calls, all of which netted quick rejections. In fact, the people she spoke with nearly laughed her off the phone. By noon she was growing desperate and worried.

      “How’s it going?” Lindy Lee asked as she stepped out of her office to meet someone for lunch. “Don’t answer. I can tell by the look on your face.”

      “If only we’d scheduled the party a bit sooner …”

      “You shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to spring it on me,” she said, laying the blame squarely on Holly.

      That seemed unfair and a little harsh, even for Lindy Lee.

      “We could have our event here in the building,” Lindy Lee suggested, apparently relenting. “The sixth floor has a big open space. Check with them and see if that’s available.”

      “I’ll do it right away.”

      “Good,” Lindy said, and turned to leave.

      “I’ll make this party happen,” Holly promised through gritted teeth.

      “I’ll hold you to that,” Lindy Lee tossed over her shoulder on her way out the door.

      As soon as she’d left, Holly called the sixth floor. As luck would have it, the only time available was the afternoon of Christmas Eve—exactly what she needed. That solved one problem, but there was still an equally large hurdle to jump. Finding a caterer.

      Despite the urgency of this task, Holly kept her lunch date with Jake. These last days before Christmas made getting away for more than a few minutes difficult for him. Yet he managed with the help of his staff who, according to Jake, were determined to smooth the course of romance. Mrs. Miracle, God bless her, had spearheaded the effort.

      Holly picked up a pastrami on rye at the deli and two coffees, and walked to Finley’s; that was all they really had time for. Now that she’d been assured of her Christmas bonus, Holly had resumed the luxury of buying lunch. When she arrived at the store, white bag in hand, Jake was busy with a customer.

      Mrs. Miracle saw her and came over to greet Holly. “My dear, what’s wrong?”

      Once again Holly was surprised at how readable she must be. “I’m on an impossible mission,” she said.

      “And what’s that?” the older woman asked.

      Holly explained. As soon as she’d finished, Mrs. Miracle smiled. “I believe I can help you.”

      “You can?” she asked excitedly.

      “Yes, a friend of mine just opened a small restaurant in the Village. She’s still getting herself established, but she’d certainly be capable of handling this party. What are you planning to serve? Sandwiches? Appetizers? Cookies? That sort of thing?”

      “The party will be in the early afternoon, so small sandwiches and cookies would be perfect. It doesn’t have to be elaborate.” At this point she’d accept almost anything.

      “I’ll get you my friend’s number.”

      “Yes, please, and, Mrs. Miracle, thank you so much.”

      “No problem, my dear. None whatsoever.” The older woman beamed her a smile. “By the way, I’ve set up a table in the back of the storeroom for you and Jake to have your lunch.”

      “How thoughtful.”

      “You go on back and Jake’ll be along any minute. Meanwhile, I’ll get you that phone number.”

      “Thanks,” she said again. “Could you tell me your friend’s name?”

      “It’s Wendy,” she said. “Now don’t you worry about a thing, you hear?”

      Feeling deeply relieved, Holly went to the storeroom. Sure enough, Mrs. Miracle had set up a card table, complete with a white tablecloth and a small poinsettia in the middle. Holly put down the sandwich, plus a couple of pickles and the two cups of coffee.

      Jake came in a few minutes later, looking harassed. He kissed her, then took his place. “It’s crazy out there,” he said, slumping in his chair.

      “I can tell.” She noticed that the rest of the staff was diligently avoiding the storeroom, no doubt under orders from Mrs. Miracle.

      He reached for his half of the massive sandwich. “I sold the last of the robots this morning.”

      “That’s wonderful!”

      “It is and it isn’t,” he said between bites. “I wish I’d ordered another hundred. We could’ve sold those, as well. Now we have to turn people away. I hate disappointing anyone.”

      “Is there any other store in town with inventory?”

      “Nope, and believe me, I’ve checked. Another shipment is due in a week after Christmas but by then it’ll be too late.”

      Holly hated to bring up the subject of Gabe’s Intellytron, but she needed Jake’s reassurance that the one he’d set aside hadn’t been sold in the robot-buying frenzy. “You still have Gabe’s, don’t you?”

      Still chewing on his sandwich, Jake nodded. “Mrs. Miracle wrapped it herself. It’s sitting right over there.” He pointed to a counter across from her. The large, brightly decorated package rested in one corner.

      “I’m so grateful you did this for me,” she told him. Meeting Jake had been one of the greatest blessings of the year—in so many ways.

      “Thank Mrs. Miracle, too,” he said. “She wasn’t even supposed to be in today, but she ended up staying to help us out.”

      The few minutes they’d grabbed flew by much too quickly. Jake stood, kissed her again, and they left the storeroom together. As they stepped onto the floor, Mrs. Miracle handed her a slip of paper. “The name of the restaurant is Heavenly Delights and here’s the number.”

      “Heavenly Delights,” Holly repeated. “I’ll give your friend a call as soon as I’m back at my desk.”

      “You do that.”

      Holly tucked the paper in her coat pocket and nearly danced all the way to the office. With a little help from Mrs. Miracle, she’d be able to pull off a miracle of her own—she’d organize this Christmas party, regardless of the difficulties and challenges.

      Once at her desk, Holly reached for the phone and called the number Mrs. Miracle had written down for her.

      “Hello.” A woman answered on the third ring.

      “Hello,” Holly returned brightly. “Is this Wendy?”

      “Yes. And you are?”

      “I’m Holly Larson, and I’m phoning on behalf of Lindy Lee.”

      “Lindy Lee, the designer?” Wendy sounded impressed.

      “Yes,” Holly answered. “I know I’m probably calling at the worst time, but I felt I should contact you as soon as possible.” She assumed the restaurant would be busy with the lunch crowd.

      “No, no, this is fine.”

      “I was given your phone number by Emily Miracle.”

      “Who?”

      “Oh, sorry. Her badge says Miracle, but that’s a mistake. Rather than cause a fuss, she asked that we call her Mrs. Miracle, although that’s not actually her name. I apologize, but I can’t remember what it is. I’m so accustomed to calling her Mrs. Miracle.” Holly hoped she wasn’t rambling.

      “Go on,” Wendy urged without commenting on all the confusion about names.

      “Long story short,