Call Me Mrs Miracle. Debbie Macomber
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that about?” she asked.
“I miss my dad.”
“I know you do, sweetheart. I miss him, too.”
“And Grandma and Grandpa.”
“And they miss us.”
Gabe nodded. “It’s not so bad living with you. I thought it was at first, but you’re okay.”
“Thanks.” She hid a smile and set a piece of buttered bread on the heated griddle, then carefully placed a slice of processed cheese on top before adding the second piece of bread. She planned to have a plain cheese sandwich herself—one with real cheese.
Obviously satisfied that she was preparing his lunch according to his specifications, Gabe clambered off the stool. “Can we go to the movies this afternoon?”
“Maybe.” She had to be careful with her entertainment budget, especially since there were additional expenses coming up this month. “It might be better if we got a video.”
“Can I invite a friend over?”
She hesitated a moment, afraid he might want to ask his new friend, Billy.
“Sure,” she said. “How about Jonathan Krantz?” Jonathan was another eight-year-old who lived in the building, and Caroline, his mother, sometimes babysat for her.
That was acceptable to Gabe.
After lunch they walked down to the neighborhood video store, found a movie they could both agree on and then asked Jonathan to join them.
Holly did her best to pay attention to the movie; however, her mind had a will of its own. No matter how hard she tried, all she could think about was Jake. He didn’t phone and that was just as well. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve said if he had.
Then again, he hadn’t asked for her phone number. Still, he could get it easily enough if he wanted....
Late Sunday night, after Gabe was asleep, Holly went on the computer and did a bit of research. Sure enough, Jake was related to the owner. Not only that, he was the son and heir.
Monday morning, Holly dropped Gabe off at school and took the subway into Manhattan. As she walked past Starbucks, she felt a twinge of longing—for more than just the coffee they served. This was where she’d met Jake. Jake Finley.
As she walked briskly past Starbucks, the door flew open and Jake Finley dashed out, calling her name.
Holly pretended not to hear.
“Holly!” he shouted, running after her. “Wait up!”
Coincidence is when God chooses
to remain anonymous.
—Mrs. Miracle
“Wait up!” Jake called. Holly acted as if she hadn’t heard him. Jake knew better. She was clearly upset about something, although he couldn’t figure out what. His mind raced with possibilities, but he couldn’t come up with a single one that made sense.
Finally she turned around.
Jake relaxed. Just seeing her again brought him a feeling of happiness he couldn’t define. He barely knew Holly Larson, yet he hadn’t been able to forget her. She was constantly in his thoughts, constantly with him, and perhaps the most puzzling of all was the rightness he felt in her presence. He couldn’t think of any other way to describe it.
Jake had resisted the urge to contact her on Sunday, afraid of coming on too strong. They’d seen quite a bit of each other in the past few days, seemingly thrown together by fate. Coincidence? He supposed so, and yet... It was as though a providential hand was behind all this. Admittedly that sounded fanciful, even melodramatic. Nevertheless, four chance meetings in quick succession was hard to explain.
With someone else, a different kind of woman, Jake might have suspected these meetings had been contrived, and certainly this morning’s was pure manipulation on his part. He’d hoped to run into her casually. But he hadn’t expected to see Holly walk directly past the coffee shop. He couldn’t allow this opportunity to pass.
She looked up at him expectantly; she didn’t say anything.
“Good morning,” he said, unsure of her mood.
“Hi.” She just missed making eye contact.
He felt her reluctance and frowned, unable to fathom what he might have done to upset her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
The question forced her to raise her eyes and meet his. She held his gaze for only a fraction of a second before glancing away.
The traffic light changed and, side by side, they crossed the street.
“I’d like to take you to dinner,” he said. He’d decided that if he invited her out on a real date they could straighten out the problem, whatever it was.
“When?”
At least she hadn’t turned him down flat. That was encouraging. “Whenever you say.” He’d rearrange his schedule if necessary. “Tonight? Tomorrow? I’m free every evening. Or I can be.” He wanted it understood that he wasn’t involved with anyone else. In fact, he hadn’t been in a serious relationship in years.
His primary goal for the past decade had been to learn the retail business from the ground up, and as a result his social life had suffered. He worked long hours and that had taken a toll on his relationships. After his last breakup, which was in... Jake had to stop and think. June, he remembered. Had it really been that long? At any rate, Judith had told him it was over before they’d really begun.
At the time he’d felt bad, but agreed it was probably for the best. Funny how easily he could let go of a woman with hardly a pause after just four weeks. Judith had been attractive, successful, intelligent, but there’d been no real connection between them. The thought of letting Holly walk out of his life was a completely different scenario, one that filled him with dread.
All he could think about on Sunday was when he’d see her again. His pride had influenced his decision not to call her; he didn’t want her to know how important she’d become to him in such a short time. Despite that, he’d gone to Starbucks first thing this morning.
“Tonight?” she repeated, referring to his dinner invitation. “You mean this evening?”
“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “I’m available Tuesday night if that’s better for you.”
She hesitated, as if considering his offer. “Thanks, but I don’t have anyone to look after Gabe.”
“I could bring us dinner.” He wasn’t willing to give up that quickly.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you trying so hard?”
“Why are you inventing excuses not to see me?”
He didn’t understand her reluctance. Saturday, when he’d dropped her off at her Brooklyn apartment and kissed her good-night, she’d practically melted in his arms. Now she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
Holly stared down at the sidewalk. People hurried past them and around them. They stood like boulders in the middle of a fast-moving stream, neither of them moving, neither talking.
“I...I didn’t know who you were,” she eventually admitted. “Not until later.”
“I told you my name’s Jake Finley.” He didn’t pretend not to understand what she meant. This wasn’t the first time his family name had intimidated someone. He just hadn’t expected that sort of reaction from Holly. He’d assumed she knew, and that was part of her charm because it hadn’t mattered to her.