Call Me Mrs Miracle. Debbie Macomber

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Call Me Mrs Miracle - Debbie Macomber MIRA

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waited by the row of hooks, each marked with a child’s name. Gabe ran over the instant he saw her, his face bright with excitement. “I made a new friend!”

      “That’s great.” Thankfully Gabe appeared to have adjusted well to his new school and teacher.

      “Billy!” he called. “Come and meet my aunt Holly.”

      Holly’s smile froze. This wasn’t just any Billy. It was Bill Carter, Junior, son of the man who’d broken up with her three months earlier.

      “Hello, Billy,” she said, wondering if he’d recognize her.

      The boy gazed up at her quizzically. Apparently he didn’t. Or maybe he did remember her but wasn’t sure when they’d met. Either way, Holly was relieved.

      “Can I go over to Billy’s house?” Gabe asked. The two boys linked arms like long-lost brothers.

      “Ah, when?” she hedged. Seeing Bill again would be difficult. Holly wasn’t eager to talk to the man who’d dumped her—especially considering why. It would be uncomfortable for both of them.

      “I want him to come tonight,” Billy said. “My dad’s making sloppy joes. And we’ve got marshmallow ice cream for dessert.”

      “Well...” Her meals could hardly compete with that—not if you were an eight-year-old boy. Personally, Holly couldn’t think of a less appetizing combination.

      Before she could come up with a response, Gabe tugged at her sleeve. “Billy doesn’t have a mom, either,” he told her.

      “I have a mom,” Billy countered, “only she doesn’t live with us anymore.”

      “My mother’s in heaven with the angels,” Gabe said. “I live with my dad, too, ’cept he’s in Afghanistan now.”

      “So that’s why you’re staying with your aunt Holly.” Billy nodded.

      “Yeah.” Gabe reached for his jacket and backpack.

      “I’m sorry, Billy,” she finally managed to say, “but Gabe and I already have plans for tonight.”

      Gabe whirled around. “We do?”

      “We’re going shopping,” she said, thinking on her feet.

      Gabe scowled and crossed his arms. “I hate shopping.”

      “You won’t this time,” she promised and helped him put on his winter jacket, along with his hat and mitts.

      “Yes, I will,” Gabe insisted, his head lowered.

      “You and Billy can have a playdate later,” she said, forcing herself to speak cheerfully.

      “When?” Billy asked, unwilling to let the matter drop.

      “How about next week?” She’d call or email Bill so it wouldn’t come as a big shock when she showed up on his doorstep.

      “Okay,” Billy agreed.

      “That suit you?” Holly asked Gabe. She wanted to leave now, just in case Bill was picking up his son today. She recalled that their housekeeper usually did this—but why take chances? Bill was the very last person she wanted to see.

      Gabe shrugged, unhappy with the compromise. He let her take his hand as they left the school, but as soon as they were outdoors, he promptly snatched it away.

      “Where are we going shopping?” he asked, still pouting as they headed in the opposite direction of her apartment building. The streetlights glowed and she saw Christmas decorations in apartment windows—wreaths, small potted trees and strings of colored lights. So far Holly hadn’t done anything. Perhaps this weekend she’d find time to put up their tree—after she’d finished decorating the office, of course.

      “I thought we’d go see Santa this evening,” Holly announced.

      “Santa?” He raised his head and eyed her speculatively.

      “Would you like that?”

      Gabe seemed to need a moment to consider the question. “I guess.”

      Holly assumed he was past the age of believing in Santa but wasn’t quite ready to admit it, for fear of losing out on extra gifts. Still, she didn’t feel she could ask him. “I want you to hold my hand while we’re on the subway, okay?”

      “Okay,” he said in a grumpy voice.

      They’d go to Finley’s, she decided. She knew for sure that the store had a Santa. Besides, she wanted to look at the windows with their festive scenes and moving parts. Even in his current mood, Gabe would enjoy them, Holly thought. And so would she.

      Exercise daily—walk with the Lord.

      —Mrs. Miracle

      It was the second Friday in December and the streets were crowded with shoppers and tourists. As they left the subway, Holly kept a close watch on Gabe, terrified of becoming separated. She heaved a sigh of relief when they reached Finley’s Department Store. The big display windows in the front of the fourteen-story structure were cleverly decorated. One showed a Santa’s workshop scene, including animated elves wielding hammers and saws. Another was a mirrored pond that had teddy bears skating around and around. Still another, the window closest to the doors, featured a huge Christmas tree, circled by a toy train running on its own miniature track. The boxcars were filled with gaily wrapped gifts.

      With the crowds pressing against them, Gabe and Holly moved from window to window, stopping at the final one. “Isn’t that a great train set?” she asked.

      Gabe nodded.

      “Would you like one of those for Christmas?” she murmured. “You could ask Santa.”

      Gabe glanced up at her. “There’s something else I want more.”

      “Okay, you can tell Santa that,” she said.

      They headed into the store, and had difficulty getting through the revolving doors, crushed in with other shoppers. “Can we go home and have dinner when we’re done seeing Santa?” Gabe asked.

      “Of course. What would you like?”

      If he said hot dogs or macaroni and cheese Holly promised herself she wouldn’t scream.

      “Mashed potatoes with gravy and meat loaf with lots of ketchup.”

      That would take a certain amount of effort but was definitely something she could do. “You got it.”

      Gabe cast her one of his rare smiles, and Holly placed her hand on his shoulder. This was progress.

      The ground floor of Finley’s was crammed. The men’s department was to the right and the cosmetics and perfume counters directly ahead. Holly inched her way forward, Gabe close by her side.

      “We

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