Call Me Mrs Miracle. Debbie Macomber

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СКАЧАТЬ nodded. If the toy department reported a loss as a result of his judgment, his father would question Jake’s readiness to take over the company.

      “Got it,” Jake assured his father.

      “Good. I want a report on the sale of that robot every week until Christmas.”

      “You’ll have it,” Jake promised. He turned to leave.

      “I hope you’re right about this toy, son,” J.R. said as Jake opened the office door. “You’ve taken a big risk. I hope it pays off.”

      He wasn’t the only one. Still, Jake believed. He’d counted on having proof that the robots were selling by the time his father learned what he’d done. Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, which was generally the biggest shopping day of the year, had been a major disappointment. He’d fantasized watching the robots fly off the shelves.

      It hadn’t happened.

      Although they’d been prominently displayed, just one of the expensive toys had sold. He supposed his father had a point; in a faltering economy, people were evaluating their Christmas budgets, so toys, especially expensive ones, had taken a hit. Children might want the robots but it was their parents who did the buying.

      Jake’s head throbbed as he made his way to the toy department. In his rush to get to the store that morning, he’d skipped his usual stop at a nearby Starbucks. He needed his caffeine fix.

      “Welcome to Finley’s. May I be of assistance?” an older woman asked him. The store badge pinned prominently on her neat gray cardigan told him her name was Mrs. Emily Miracle. Her smile was cheerful and engaging. She must be the new sales assistant Human Resources had been promising him—but she simply wouldn’t do. Good grief, what were they thinking up in HR? Sales in the toy department could be brisk, demanding hours of standing, not to mention dealing with cranky kids and short-tempered parents. He needed someone young. Energetic.

      “What can I show you?” the woman asked.

      Jake blinked, taken aback by her question. “I beg your pardon?”

      “Are you shopping for one of your children?”

      “Well, no. I—”

      She didn’t allow him to finish and steered him toward the center aisle. “We have an excellent selection of toys for any age group. If you’re looking for suggestions, I’d be more than happy to help.”

      She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was the department manager—and therefore her boss. “Excuse me, Mrs....” He glanced at her name tag a second time. “Mrs. Miracle.”

      “Actually, it’s Merkle.”

      “The badge says Miracle.”

      “Right,” she said, looking a bit chagrined. “HR made a mistake, but I don’t mind. You can call me Mrs. Miracle.”

      Speaking of miracles... If ever Jake needed one, it was now. Those robots had to sell. His entire future with the company could depend on this toy.

      “I’d be more than happy to assist you,” Mrs. Miracle said again, breaking into his thoughts.

      “I’m Jake Finley.”

      “Pleased to meet you. Do you have a son or a daughter?” she asked.

      “This is Finley’s Department Store,” he said pointedly.

      Apparently this new employee had yet to make the connection, which left Jake wondering exactly where HR found their seasonal help. There had to be someone more capable than this woman.

      “Finley,” Mrs. Miracle repeated slowly. “Jacob Robert is your father, then?”

      “Yes,” he said, frowning. Only family and close friends knew his father’s middle name.

      Her eyes brightened, and a smile slid into place. “Ahh,” she said knowingly.

      “You’re acquainted with my father?” That could explain why she’d been hired. Maybe she had some connection to his family he knew nothing about.

      “No, no, not directly, but I have heard a great deal about him.”

      So had half the population on the East Coast. “I’m the manager here in the toy department,” he told her. He clipped on his badge as he spoke, realizing he’d stuck it in his pocket. The badge said simply “Manager,” without including his name, since his policy was to be as anonymous as possible, to be known by his role, not his relationship to the owner.

      “The manager. Yes,” she said, nodding happily. “This works out beautifully.”

      “What does?” Her comments struck him as odd.

      “Oh, nothing,” she returned with the same smile.

      She certainly looked pleased with herself, although Jake couldn’t imagine why. He doubted she’d last a week. He’d see about getting her transferred to a more suitable department for someone her age. Oh, he’d be subtle about it. He had no desire to risk a discrimination suit.

      Jake examined the robot display, hoping that while he’d been gone another one might have sold. But if that was the case, he didn’t see any evidence of it.

      “Have you had your morning coffee?” Mrs. Miracle asked.

      “No,” he muttered. His head throbbed, reminding him of his craving for caffeine.

      “It seems quiet here at the moment. Why don’t you take your break?” she suggested. “The other sales associate and I can handle anything that comes along.”

      Jake hesitated.

      “Go on,” she urged. “Everyone needs their morning coffee.”

      “You go,” he said. He was, after all, the department manager, so he should be the last to leave.

      “Oh, heavens, no. I just finished a cup.” Looking around, she gestured toward the empty aisles. “It’s slow right now but it’s sure to pick up later, don’t you think?”

      She was right. In another half hour or so, he might not get a chance. His gaze rested on the robots and he pointed in their direction. “Do what you can to interest shoppers in those.”

      “Telly the SuperRobot?” she said. Not waiting for his reply, she added, “You won’t have any worries there. They’re going to be the hottest item this Christmas.”

      Jake felt a surge of excitement. “You heard that?”

      “No...” she answered thoughtfully.

      “Then you must’ve seen a news report.” Jake had been waiting for exactly this kind of confirmation. He’d played a hunch, taken a chance, and in his heart of hearts felt it had been a good decision. But he had four hundred and ninety-seven of these robots on his hands. If his projections didn’t pan out, it would take a long time—like maybe forever—to live it down.

      “Coffee,” СКАЧАТЬ