A Miracle at Macy’s: There’s only one dog who can save Christmas. Lynn Hulsman Marie

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      “To the contrary, Miss Bell, I will indeed be staying as your aunt has given me explicit instructions that I’m not to report back to The Russian Tea Room, or for that matter, any of our soundstages, party venues, or offices, until I locate your pet. It is now my job.” Underneath his closely trimmed beard, I see a muscle twitch in his jaw. His blue eyes are blazing, but other than that, his face is placid. “So calm down.”

      There is nothing, and I mean nothing, I hate more than being told to calm down when I’m already calm. Or even if I’m not calm. Jot this down, it’s a sure way to make me punch you in the nose. I ball up my fists. “Get out,” I say. “Leave.”

      “You need help, and I’ve been dispatched to offer it. Relax, and put yourself in my capable hands.”

      Relax! That’s even worse than calm down. “I have hands of my own, as you can see.” I show him my quivering fists. “I’ve been on my own since I was twelve. I’m good. I’ve got this. You can go now.”

      I pull out my phone and stab in a text to Aunt Miranda.

       Dear Aunt M, I appreciate the offer of help, but am fine on my own.

       You can tell HW to come back to the office.

       If I need to talk to you, I can contact you directly. I really hope to find H today. x C

      “Listen to me, Charlotte,” he says in a soft voice full of urgency, “you haven’t ‘got this.’” I don’t even raise my eyes from my phone. I just keep on texting. “Look at me,” he says. Begrudgingly, I do. He nods in Blake’s direction. “Case in point: Your big plan of the day is to run off some scrapbook-level flyers and…and what? Attach them to telephone poles with pushpins? Slide them under the doors of the people in your neighborhood? Maybe wear a sandwich board declaring ‘I’ve lost my dog’?”

      I’m starting to sweat around my hairline. Maybe I haven’t fully thought this through.

      “What do you know?” I fire off, knowing I sound like a testy adolescent. I need to get Hudson back and I’ve been doing everything I know how. “How dare you…you snobby asshat, come into my home and tell me I don’t know how to find my dog? I’m figuring it out.”

      Henry Wentworth puts both hands on my shoulders, and fixes my eyes with those Aegean blue lasers of his.

      “You’ll burn hours and hours of precious time, and to no avail in the end. Meanwhile, your dog is God-knows-where, far from home and hearth. Now, allow Bill Gates, Jr. to finish up, and I’ll come up with a real plan of action.” I hear the buzz of a phone. Henry sighs loudly. “Hang on, I have to check this.”

      He pulls out his phone and listens to the message. From my vantage point, all I hear is a high-pitched yelling. Is it Aunt Miranda? I strain to hear, but he sees me listening and turns his body away from me. His face closes off, then blooms into an expression of irritation. I scrutinize him, thinking about my next move.

      On the one hand, I don’t trust this pontifical, self-important Englishman, emphasis on ‘man’. Being treated like the proverbial fragile little lady has always chapped my ass. Add to that his ulterior motive: He’ll say or do anything to get back under Aunt Miranda’s wing, where the action is. Come to think of it, Aunt Miranda shouldn’t trust him either. I’m getting a real All About Eve vibe from this one.

      On the other hand, if I need to swallow my ego to Huddie back, so be it. I owe it to him to take advantage of every opportunity, no matter how distasteful.

      “Charlotte, please,” Henry says in a low voice. His posture has softened. “Your dog could be shivering on the street somewhere, cold and scared. And I hardly want to hint at it, but people have been known to steal animals.” A tiny cry escapes my throat.

      “Shh.” He squeezes my shoulders. “Stay with me. The faster we find him, the better. Wouldn’t you rather he were here, being fed home-cooked morsels off your plate, and shoving you over in the bed till you’re teetering on the edge while he snores peacefully?”

      Oh, Huddie. I let my eyes drift to the floor. I don’t want Henry to see my fear.

      “All right, ma’am,” Blake breaks in, standing up and gathering his equipment. “You’re all set to print and scan, and I ran some diagnostics and cleaned off some malware. Today’s visit is $349.99. You should bring her into the shop soon if you want us to run updates.”

      “Never mind, that won’t be necessary” Henry says, brandishing a credit card. Before I can intervene, the card is run through a swiper. “I can do the updates myself.”

      “Wait a minute,” I begin.

      “That will be all for today, thank you,” Henry breaks in.

      “Well, great then!” says the boy, moving toward the door. “If there’s anything your husband can’t handle, just stop in or give us a call.”

      “He’s not my…”

      “I can handle quite a bit, can’t I, my dear?” Henry cuts me off, giving the young man just the lightest shove out the door, and closing it. “And at 350 dollars a visit, I’d certainly offer you more than 15 minutes of fiddling around!”

      I feel my eyebrows hurtle skyward, and my mouth drops open.

      “That is to say… Miss Bell, what I mean to say, is…”

      “Bing!” Saved by the oven timer. I hurry to the kitchen to take out the egg-and-vegetable pie.

      Heading into the kitchen, I grab my heavy-duty silicone oven gloves. As I’m bending over to heave the substantial pie from the oven, I’m aware that Henry is behind me. Why won’t he stop following me around? I need a minute to think. Whether it’s from panic or lack of sleep or the distraction of having a person in my apartment, I cannot cut through the fog. I’m edgy, and I know it. I have to keep my cool. I want my dog back, and as Henry has pointed out, two heads are better than one. Especially when one of the heads isn’t firing on all cylinders. I slide the pie onto a cooling rack, and turn around.

      Henry is leaning, arms crossed, against the door jamb. “Did you make that?”

      “Of course I made it. Do you see anyone else around here?” Easy, Charlotte, my inner voice tells me. Keep your eye on the prize.

      “I mean, did you bake that? From scratch? And those little, what are they, mince pies, as well?” He sidles up to the counter, inspecting my wares.

      “Yes, I did. Why?”

      “It’s just I don’t know any women, apart from my mum, who do that.” He looks at me with that maddening eyebrow lift. “All the women I’ve dated have only ever known how to pick up the phone to order food.”

      “Well I made them. Any other questions before you help me find my dog. I mean, that is why you’re here, isn’t it? I mean,” I suck in my breath and let out a long sigh, “I’m sorry I snapped at you. It wasn’t fair. Please, help me find my dog.”

      “Apology accepted. I do have one question…any chance of a cup of tea? I was ejected from the СКАЧАТЬ