his morning cup of java, he’d consider keeping her. And if she managed to sell two, she’d be living up to her name!
If God is your copilot, trade places.
—Mrs. Miracle
Friday morning, and Holly Larson was right on schedule—even a few minutes ahead. This was a vast improvement over the past two months, ever since her eight-year-old nephew, Gabe, had come to live with her. It’d taken effort on both their parts to make this arrangement work. Mickey, Holly’s brother, had been called up by the National Guard and sent to Afghanistan for the next fifteen months. He was a widower, and with her parents doing volunteer medical work in Haiti, the only option for Gabe was to move in with Holly, who lived in a small Brooklyn apartment. Fortunately, she’d been able to turn her minuscule home office into a bedroom for Gabe.
They were doing okay, but it hadn’t been easy. Never having spent much time with children Gabe’s age, the biggest adjustment had been Holly’s—in her opinion, anyway.
Gabe might not agree, however. He didn’t think sun-dried tomatoes with fresh mozzarella cheese was a special dinner. He turned up his nose and refused even one bite. So she was learning. Boxed macaroni and cheese suited him just fine, although she couldn’t tolerate the stuff. At least it was cheap. Adding food for a growing boy to her already strained budget had been a challenge. Mickey, who was the manager of a large grocery store in his civilian life, sent what he could but he had his own financial difficulties; she knew he was still paying off his wife’s medical bills and funeral expenses. And he had a mortgage to maintain on his Trenton, New Jersey, home. Poor Gabe. The little boy had lost his mother when he was an infant. Now his father was gone, too. Holly considered herself a poor replacement for either parent, let alone both, although she was giving it her best shot.
Since she had a few minutes to spare before she was due at the office, she hurried into Starbucks to reward herself with her favorite latte. It’d been two weeks since she’d had one. A hot, freshly brewed latte was an extravagance these days, so she only bought them occasionally.
Getting Gabe to school and then hurrying to the office was as difficult as collecting him from the after-school facility at the end of the day. Lindy Lee, her boss, hadn’t taken kindly to Holly’s rushing out the instant the clock struck five. But the child-care center at Gabe’s school charged by the minute when she was late. By the minute.
Stepping out of the cold into the warmth of the coffee shop, Holly breathed in the pungent scent of fresh coffee. A cheery evergreen swag was draped across the display case. She dared not look because she had a weakness for cranberry scones. She missed her morning ritual of a latte and a scone almost as much as she did her independence. But giving it up was a small sacrifice if it meant she could help her brother and Gabe. Not only that, she’d come to adore her young nephew and, despite everything, knew she’d miss him when her brother returned.
The line moved quickly, and she placed her order for a skinny latte with vanilla flavoring. The man behind her ordered a large coffee. He smiled at her and Holly smiled back. She’d seen him in this Starbucks before, although they’d never spoken.
“Merry Christmas,” she said.
“Same to you.”
The girl at the cash register told Holly her total and she opened her purse to pay. That was when she remembered—she’d given the last of her cash to Gabe for lunch money. It seemed ridiculous to use a credit card for such a small amount, but she didn’t have any choice. She took out her card and handed it to the barista. The young woman slid it through the machine, then leaned forward and whispered, “It’s been declined.”
Hot embarrassment reddened her face. She’d maxed out her card the month before but thought her payment would’ve been credited by now. Scrambling, she searched for coins in the bottom of her purse. It didn’t take her long to realize she didn’t have nearly enough change to cover the latte. “I have a debit card in here someplace,” she muttered, grabbing her card case again.
“Excuse me.” The good-looking man behind her pulled his wallet from his hip pocket.
“I’m...I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to meet his eyes. This was embarrassing, humiliating, downright mortifying.
“Allow me to pay for your latte,” he said.
Holly sent him a shocked look. “You don’t need to do that.”
The woman standing behind him frowned impatiently at Holly. “If I’m going to get to work on time, he does.”
“Oh, sorry.”
Not waiting for her to agree, the stranger stepped forward and paid for both her latte and his coffee.
“Thank you,” she said in a low, strangled voice.
“I’ll consider it my good deed for the day.”
“I’ll pay for your coffee the next time I see you.”
He grinned. “You’ve got a deal.” He moved down to the end of the counter, where she went to wait for her latte. “I’m Jake Finley.”
“Holly Larson.” She extended her hand.
“Holly,” he repeated.
“People assume I was born around Christmas but I wasn’t. Actually, I was born in June and named after my mother’s favorite aunt,” she said. She didn’t know why she’d blurted out such ridiculous information. Perhaps because she still felt embarrassed and was trying to disguise her chagrin with conversation. “I do love Christmas, though, don’t you?”
“Not particularly.” Frowning, he glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Oh, sure. Thank you again.” He’d been thoughtful and generous.
“See you soon,” Jake said as he turned toward the door.
“I owe you,” she said. “I won’t forget.”
He smiled at her. “I hope I’ll run into you again.”
“That would be great.” She meant it, and next time she’d make sure she had enough cash to treat him. She felt a glow of pleasure as Jake left Starbucks.
Holly stopped to calculate—it’d been more than three months since her last date. That was pitiful! Three months. Nuns had a more active social life than she did.
Her last relationship had been with Bill Carter. For a while it had seemed promising. As a divorced father, Bill was protective and caring toward his young son. Holly had only met Billy once. Unfortunately, the trip to the Central Park Zoo hadn’t gone well. Billy had been whiny and overtired, and Bill had seemed to want her to deal with the boy. She’d tried but Billy didn’t know her and she didn’t know him, and the entire outing had been strained and uncomfortable. Holly had tried—unsuccessfully—to make the trip as much fun as possible. Shortly thereafter, Bill called to tell her their relationship wasn’t “working” for him. He’d made a point of letting her know he was interested in finding someone more “suitable” for his son because he didn’t feel she’d make a good mother. His words had stung.
Holly hadn’t argued.
