Christmas Trio B. Debbie Macomber
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“Did you ask John?”
“No.” Jake quickly sought out the youngest sales associate. John had just finished with a customer and looked expectantly at Jake.
“The robot’s missing,” he said without preamble.
John stared back at him. “The one in the storeroom?”
“Are there any others in this department?” he snapped. If there were, he’d grab one and be done with it. However, no one knew better than Jake that there wasn’t an Intellytron to be had.
“I saw it,” Gail said, joining them.
Relief washed over Jake. Someone had moved it without telling him; that was obviously what had happened. The prospect of facing Holly and telling her he didn’t have the robot didn’t bear thinking about.
That morning, the moment she’d received her Christmas bonus, Holly had rushed over to Finley’s to pay for the toy. Her face had been alight with happiness as she described how excited Gabe would be when he found his gift under the Christmas tree. That robot meant so much to the boy. If Jake didn’t bring it as promised, Holly might not forgive him. He hoped that wouldn’t happen, but the thought sent a chill through him nonetheless.
Frances, another sales associate, came over, too. “Mrs. Miracle had it,” she said.
“When?”
“This morning,” Frances explained. “She didn’t mention it to you?”
“No.” Jake shook his head. “What did she do with it?”
Frances stared down at the floor. “She sold it.”
“Sold it?” Jake exploded. This had to be some kind of joke—didn’t it? “How could she do that? It was already paid for by someone else.” That robot belonged to Gabe Larson. She knew that as well as anyone.
“Why would she sell it?” he burst out again, completely bewildered.
“I … I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her,” Frances said. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Finley. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.”
There’d better be. Not that it would help now.
Sick at heart, Jake left the department and went up to his father’s office. Dora had already gone home; the whole administrative floor was deserted. He didn’t know what he’d tell Holly. He should’ve taken the robot to his apartment and kept it there. Then he could’ve been guaranteed that nothing like this would happen. Still, berating himself now wouldn’t serve any useful purpose.
Preparing for his flight, J. R. Finley was busy stuffing paperwork in his computer case when Jake entered the office. J.R. looked up at him. “What’s the matter with you? Did you decide to come with me, after all?”
“No. Have you decided to stay in New York?” Jake countered.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Jake slumped into a chair and ran his fingers through his hair. “Gabe’s robot is missing,” he said quietly. “Emily Miracle, or whatever her name is, sold it.”
“Mrs. Miracle?” J.R.’s face tightened and he waved his index finger at Jake. “I told you that woman was up to no good, butting into other people’s business. She’s a troublemaker. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“Dad, stop it. She’s a sweet grandmotherly woman.”
“She’s ruined a little boy’s Christmas and you call that sweet?“ He made a scoffing sound and resumed his task of collecting papers and shoving them into his case.
“Do you have any connections—someone who can locate a spare Intellytron at the last minute?” This was Jake’s only hope.
Frowning, his father checked his watch. “I’ll make some phone calls, but I can’t promise anything.”
Jake was grateful for whatever his father could do. “What about your flight?”
J.R. looked at his watch again and shrugged. “I’ll catch a later one.”
Jake started to remind his father that changing flights at this point might be difficult, but stopped himself. If J.R. was going to offer his assistance, Jake would be a fool to refuse.
“I’ll shut down the department and meet you back here in twenty minutes,” Jake said.
His father had picked up his phone and was punching out numbers. One thing Jake could be assured of—if there was a single Intellytron left in the tristate area, J.R. would locate it and have it delivered to Gabe.
He hurried back to the toy department and saw that the last-minute customers were being ushered out, bags in hand, and the day’s sales tallied. The store was officially closed. His staff was waiting to exchange Christmas greetings with Jake so they could go home to their families.
“Is there anything we can do before we leave?” John asked, speaking for the others.
“No, thanks. You guys have been great. Merry Christmas, everyone!”
As soon as they’d left, he got Mrs. Miracle’s contact information and called the phone number she’d given HR. To his shock, a recorded voice message informed him that the number was no longer in service. That wasn’t the only shock, either—she’d handed in her notice that afternoon.
He groaned. Mrs. Miracle was unreachable and had absconded with precious information regarding the robot—like why she’d sold it and to whom.
Jake returned to his father’s office to find him pacing the floor with the receiver pressed to his ear. J.R. glanced in Jake’s direction, then quickly looked away. That tight-lipped expression told Jake everything he needed to know—his father hadn’t been successful.
He waited until J.R. hung up the phone.
“No luck,” Jake said, not bothering to phrase it in the form of a question.
J.R. shook his head. “Everyone I talked to said as far as they knew we’re the only store in five states to have the robot.”
“Had. We sold out.”
“Apparently there isn’t another one to be found anywhere till after Christmas.”
Jake had expected that. A sick feeling attacked the pit of his stomach as he sank into a chair and sighed loudly. “I appreciate your help, Dad. Thanks for trying.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” J.R. nodded and placed a consoling hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I know how you feel.”
Jake doubted that but he wasn’t in the mood to argue.
“Holly’s special,” J.R.