Christmas Trio B. Debbie Macomber

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      Holly gave the situation regarding Gabe and the robot careful thought during the sleepless night that followed their dinner. She’d asked Jake about it when Gabe was out of earshot.

      “There are still plenty left,” he’d told her.

      “But they’re selling, aren’t they?”

      “Yes, sales are picking up.”

      That was good for him but unsettling for her. If she couldn’t afford to pay for the robot until closer to Christmas, then she’d need to make a small deposit and put one on layaway now. She didn’t know if Finley’s offered that option; not many stores did anymore. She’d have to check with Jake. She dared not take a chance that Intellytron would sell out before she had the cash.

      While she was dead set against letting Jake purchase the robot for her, she hoped he’d be willing to put one aside, even if layaway wasn’t a current practice at higher-end department stores. If she made their lunches, cut back on groceries and bought only what was absolutely necessary, she should be able to pay cash for the robot just before Christmas.

      Tuesday morning she packed a hard-boiled egg and an apple for lunch. For Gabe she prepared a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, adding an apple for him, too, plus the last of the sugar cookies. Gabe hadn’t been happy to take a packed lunch. He much preferred to buy his meal with his friends. But it was so much cheaper for him to bring it—and, at this point, necessary, although of course she couldn’t tell him why. The leftover Chinese food figured into her money-saving calculations, too. It would make a great dinner.

      On her lunch hour, after she’d eaten her apple and boiled egg, Holly hurried to Finley’s to talk to Jake. She’d been uneasy from the moment she’d learned she wasn’t getting a Christmas bonus. She wouldn’t relax until she knew the SuperRobot would still be available the following week.

      Unfortunately, Jake wasn’t in the toy department.

      “He’s not here?” Holly asked Mrs. Miracle, unable to hide her disappointment.

      “He’s with his father just now,” the older woman told her, and then frowned. “I do hope the meeting goes smoothly. It can be difficult to read the senior Mr. Finley sometimes. But I have faith that all will end well.” Her eyes twinkled as she spoke.

      Holly hoped she’d explain, and Mrs. Miracle obliged.

      “In case you didn’t hear, Jake went over the department buyer’s head when he ordered those extra robots,” she confided, “and that’s caused some difficulty with his father. J. R. Finley has a real stubborn streak.”

      Mrs. Miracle seemed very well informed about the relationship between Jake and his father. “The robots are selling, though. Isn’t that right?” she asked, again torn between pleasure at Jake’s success and worry about laying her hands on one of the toys. The display appeared to be much smaller than last week.

      “Thankfully, yes,” Mrs. Miracle told her. “Jake took quite a risk, you know?”

      Holly shook her head.

      “Jake tried to talk Mike Scott into ordering more of the robots, but Mike refused to listen, so Jake did what he felt was best.” Her expression sobered. “His father was not pleased, to put it mildly.”

      “But you said they’re selling.”

      “Oh, yes. We sold another twenty-five over the weekend and double that on Monday.” She nodded sagely. “I can only assume J. R. is feeling somewhat reassured.”

      “That’s great.” Holly meant it, but a shiver of dread went through her.

      “Several of our competitors have already sold out,” Mrs. Miracle said with a gleeful smile.

      “That’s terrific news.” And it was—for Finley’s. Parents searching for the toy would now flock to one of the few department stores in town with enough inventory to meet demand.

      “How’s Gabe?” Mrs. Miracle asked, changing the subject.

      “He’s doing fine.” Holly chewed her lip, her thoughts still on the robot. “Seeing how well the robot’s selling, would it be possible for me to set one aside on a layaway plan?”

      The older woman’s smile faded. “Oh, dear, the store doesn’t have a layaway option. They haven’t in years. Is that going to be a problem for you?”

      Holly wasn’t surprised that layaway was no longer offered, but she figured it was worth asking. Holly clutched her purse. “I … I don’t know.” Her mind spinning, she looked hopefully at the older woman. “Do you think you could hold one of the robots for me?” She hated to make that kind of request, but with her credit card temporarily out of commission and no layaway plan, she didn’t have any other choice. The payment she’d made on her card would’ve been processed by now, but she didn’t dare risk a purchase as big as this.

      “Oh, dear, I’m really not sure.”

      “Could you ask Jake for me?” Holly inquired. She’d do it herself if he was there.

      “Of course. I just don’t think I could go against store policy, being seasonal staff and all.”

      “I wouldn’t want you to do that, Mrs. Miracle.”

      “However, I’m positive Jake would be happy to help if he can.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “He’s rather sweet on you.”

      Sweet? That was a nice, old-fashioned word. “He’s been wonderful to me and Gabe.”

      “So I understand. Didn’t he bring you dinner last night?”

      Holly wondered how Mrs. Miracle knew about that, unless Jake had mentioned it. No reason not to, she supposed. “Yes, and it was a lovely evening,” she said. The only disappointment had come when Gabe asked him to help decorate the tree and Jake refused. The mere suggestion had distressed him. She hadn’t realized that the trauma of those family deaths was as intense and painful as if the accident had just happened. If it was this traumatic for Jake, Holly could only imagine what it was like for his father.

      “Did you know Jake and his father leave New York every Christmas Eve?” Mrs. Miracle whispered.

      It was as if the older woman had been reading her mind. “I beg your pardon?”

      “Jake and his father leave New York every Christmas Eve,” she repeated.

      Holly hadn’t known this and wasn’t sure what to say.

      “Isn’t that a shame?”

      Holly shrugged. “Everyone deals with grief differently,” she murmured. Her brother handled the loss of his wife with composure and resolve. That was his personality. Practical. Responsible. As he’d said himself, he couldn’t fall apart; he had a boy to raise.

      Sally had been sick for a long while, giving Mickey time to prepare for the inevitable—at least to the extent anyone can. He’d loved Sally and missed her terribly, especially in the beginning. Yet he’d gone on with his life, determined to be a good father.

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