Mrs. Miracle. Do you realize exactly how many of these … Intellytromps he needs to sell by Christmas? That’s less than two weeks from now. It’ll never happen.”
“They’re Intellytrows.”
“Tromps, trons, whatever. They won’t sell. Mark my words. It would take a miracle.” He grinned broadly, obviously thinking himself very clever.
“You called?” she said, and laughed.
J. R. apparently didn’t like the fact that she’d responded to his joke with one of her own. Instead of laughing, he scowled.
“Never mind,” she said with a sigh. “I just wish you had more faith in your son.”
He quickly took offense. “My son is my concern.”
“He is your concern,” she agreed. “And your future. So, it’s time you trusted his judgment.”
She’d really ruffled his feathers now. He grew red in the face and puffed up like an angry rooster, his chest expanding. “Now listen here. I won’t have an employee talking to me as if I’m some messenger boy.”
Emily stood her ground. “Someone needs to tell you the truth and it might as well be me.”
“Is that so?”
He sounded like a third-grader exchanging insults on the playground.
“You need to give your son a bit of leeway to make his own mistakes instead of second-guessing all his decisions.”
He opened and closed his mouth as if he couldn’t speak fast enough to say what was on his mind. He thrust out one hand. “Your badge.”
So he intended to fire her. “You don’t want to do that,” she told him calmly.
“I will not have an insubordinate employee working in my store!”
“I’m temporary help,” she reminded him. “I’ll be gone soon enough.”
“I expect you gone today.”
“Sorry, I’m afraid that would be impossible. You’ll need to reconsider.”
Once again he couldn’t seem to speak. “Are … are you refusing to leave the premises?” he finally managed to sputter.
“Jacob Robert, settle down. You’ve always had a problem with your temper, haven’t you? Now, take a deep breath and listen to me. You do not want to fire me this close to Christmas.”
“Are you threatening me?” he growled. “And how do you know my middle name?”
“Not in the least,” she said, answering his first question and ignoring his second.
“I’m calling Security and having you escorted from the building. Your check will be mailed to you.”
“Security?” The image of two beefy security guards lifting her by the arms and marching her outside was so comical it made Emily laugh.
That seemed to infuriate him even more. “Do you find this humorous?”
“Frankly, yes.” She wouldn’t lie; the man was insufferable. Oh, heavens, she did have her work cut out for her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, your son needs my help.”
His jaw sagged as she scurried past him and walked quickly to the elevator.
As she suspected, the toy department was in chaos. Poor Jake was run ragged—thanks, in part, to his father, who’d taken too much pleasure in making her late for her shift. That man was about to meet his match. Emily Merkle was not going to let one overstuffed, pigheaded man stand in the way of her mission.
She’d been on the floor for thirty minutes or so when J. R. unexpectedly showed up. When he saw how busy the department was, he did a double take.
“Don’t stand there gawking,” Emily said as she marched past him, leading a customer to the cash register. Brenda and Karen, also on duty, were bustling around, answering questions, ringing up sales, demonstrating toys.
He stared at her blankly.
“Help,” she told him. “We could use an extra pair of hands, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Ah …” He froze, as if he didn’t know where to start.
“That couple over there,” Emily said, pointing in the direction of the board games. “They have a three-year-old and a six-year-old and they’re looking for suggestions. Give them a few.” “Ah …”
“Don’t just stand there with your mouth hanging open,” she ordered. “Get to work!”
To his credit, J. R. rolled up his sleeves and dug in. J. R. Finley might know the name of every employee in his store—with minor exceptions, of course—but he was in way over his head when it came to recommending board games. To her credit, Emily kept her mouth shut.
At four o’clock there was a slight lull. “Dad,” Jake greeted his father. “What brings you down here?”
J. R. squinted at Emily but didn’t answer.
“Whatever it was, I’m grateful.” He turned to Emily. “How many Intellytrons did we sell this afternoon?”
“Sixteen.”
“Fabulous!” Jake couldn’t conceal his excitement.
His father, however, looked as though he needed to sit down, put up his feet and have a cup of hot tea. In Emily’s view, it would do the man good to work the floor once in a while. He might actually learn something that way.
“I came to talk to you about this woman.” J. R. stabbed a menacing finger at Emily.
“Ah, you mean Mrs. Miracle,” Jake said fondly. “She’s a wonder, isn’t she?”
“She’s a nuisance,” J. R. snapped. “I want her fired.”
Jake laughed, which was clearly the opposite reaction of what his father expected.
“This is not a joke.”
“Yes, it is,” Jake insisted. “Didn’t you see what a madhouse this place was? It’s like that every day now. I can’t afford to lose Mrs. Miracle.”
Emily sauntered over to J. R.’s side and whispered saucily, “Told you so.”
He shook his finger. “I don’t care if I have to work this department on my own,” he yelled, “I will not tolerate insubordination.”
“Excuse me, Dad, I’ve got another customer.”
“I do, too,” Emily said. “But you can keep standing there for a while. You make a nice fixture.”
A kid of about five stepped in front of J.R. and stared up at him. “Is that
