Comfort And Joy. Fern Michaels

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Comfort And Joy - Fern  Michaels


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out to take the box of magazines from her. She went back out to her car to get the other two boxes and they headed to her shop.

      “What are you going to do with these?” Josh asked when he set the last box on the counter in the gift wrap department. Angie explained. She liked the sudden twinkle she saw in Josh’s eyes. “Do you think it will work?” His voice was beyond anxious-sounding.

      “A homemade, down-home Christmas! Isn’t that what Christmas is all about? I’m almost certain it will work. I really am. But we need a campaign to go with it. I think you might have to call an advertising agency to get it off the ground. We’re just two people, Josh, we’re going to need help. I’m determined that you are going to go out of here with a bang. Along with your father’s respect.” Now it was her turn to sound anxious. “Are you having second thoughts about leaving?”

      “No, not at all,” he lied with a straight face. Suddenly the allure of the prestigious Harrods and going to England were losing their appeal.

      “I know this is none of my business, but do you have an operating account to draw from? Do I have to run everything by you, or do you trust me to order things without your approval? How do you want me to arrange payment?”

      “Yes, no, and just charge everything to the store. I’ll give you a corporate card. And, yes, I trust you. I have phone calls to make and several meetings with some of the old staff. The discount people are here to start moving all the merchandise. Alma Bennett is in charge of all that. The minute everything is out of the store, an electrician is coming in. And then the painters, who promised to do their work at night. A cleaning crew will be right on their tails to clean and polish the new floor. That’s more or less behind-the-scenes stuff. Our real challenge is to get merchandise to fill the space. I’ll call an advertising agency at some point this morning to get that going. You’ll have to sit in on that meeting. How about lunch?”

      “I’d love to have lunch with you. How about twelve thirty in the food court?”

      “Works for me.” His hands jammed into his jean pockets, Josh started to whistle as he made his way to the second floor. He could hardly wait for lunch.

      “Are those stars I see in your eyes, Angie?” Bess asked.

      “Nope. Just new contact lenses.”

      “Yeah, right. Okay, what’s up? What do you want me to do?”

      Angie quickly outlined her plans, then told Bess everything that had transpired since she’d seen her last.

      “Wow! Can we do it all in time? What about the vendors? They promise everything and give you zip.”

      “I know, I know, so we’re going to insist on penalty clauses. We’re also not really going to count on them. We’re going to make this a down-home Christmas and try…I said try, to get up and running with the cottage-industry merchandise. Today you and I are going to scour these books, call the little companies, and see what we can get here in time. We won’t have to worry about gift wrapping today since the store is closed. Everything is on target with your husband and the decorations, right?”

      “John is on it. He loves woodworking. He’s made prototypes and is working off them. It will all be done in plenty of time. So tell me what’s responsible for the sparks in your eyes. Is it Josh Eagle? Wooeee, you’re blushing, Angie.”

      “I am not. It’s . . It’s really warm in here. Now, let’s make some coffee and hit these magazines.”

      The morning passed quickly as the women consumed two pots of coffee while earmarking pages for further discussion. By noon, Angie’s yellow legal pad was full of telephone numbers and notes on which merchandise she was interested in.

      With one box of magazines to go, Angie washed her hands, fluffed up her hair, and checked her lipstick, ready to meet Josh for lunch. “Do you want me to bring you something for lunch, Bess?”

      “No, I brought my lunch. You do remember how to flirt, don’t you, Angie?”

      Angie stuck out her tongue in Bess’s general direction, but in the end she had to laugh. “Do I look okay?”

      “You look good enough to go fishing. Remember what I told you about tossing your line in the pond. Play it cool, and he’s all yours. That’s assuming you want him. From where I’m sitting, the guy is one heck of a catch. Go already. It’s not nice to keep the boss waiting.”

      “Jeez, he is my boss, isn’t he? That’s going to take some getting used to. Are you sure I look okay, Bess?”

      “You look fine, now go. Just remember to smile a lot. Pretend you’re interested in what he has to say. You don’t always have to be a know-it-all.”

      On the way to the food court Angie wondered how many women were waiting in the wings for Josh Eagle. She just knew he went for the long-legged modeling types with their glossy smiles, sun-streaked hair and designer clothes. And, according to Bess, who was up on all things Josh Eagle, if any of them had a brain, they’d be dangerous. Angie sniffed. Bess didn’t know everything even though she said she did.

      Josh was waiting for her by the Philly Cheese Steak booth, which probably meant that’s what he intended to eat for lunch. He was holding a twin to the legal pad she was carrying. Ah, a business lunch. She smiled.

      Josh waved the yellow pad. “Guess this means we’re going to work through our lunch. I had a pretty good morning. How about you?”

      “Bess and I made some progress. I want to run it all by you before I make some calls this afternoon. I just want half a sandwich and a cup of coffee. And a brownie.” She smiled. And smiled.

      “Are you happy about something? You keep smiling. Is it anything you want to share?”

      Angie made a mental note to slap Bess upon her return to the gift wrap shop. “Actually, I am. Happy, that is. I can see light at the end of the tunnel, believe it or not. How about you?”

      “You look pretty when you smile. You should do it more often. But to answer your question, I certainly feel a lot more positive than I did yesterday morning.”

      Angie didn’t know what else to do because her heart was beating so fast, so she smiled. And smiled. Then she smiled some more. I’m still going to slap you, Bess.

      Chapter Six

      It was midafternoon when Angie pushed herself away from her tiny desk where she’d been making call after call in the hopes of saving Eagle’s Department Store from closing its doors.

      “How about a nice, cold soda pop?” Bess asked as she peered into the minifridge in the alcove where the coffeepot was located. Angie nodded.

      Bess pulled over a stool and sat down next to Angie. She looked pointedly at the canvas bag at Angie’s feet. Poking at the colorful bag with her foot, she asked, “You haven’t told Eva, have you? Or Josh?”

      Angie bit down on her lower lip. “I meant to tell Mom. I had it all planned, and then she up and decided to have her knee done. I didn’t want to upset her. I don’t…What I mean is, I don’t think I owe Josh an explanation. As soon as Mom is in high gear again, I’ll tell her. She knew this was not a forever job for me. I agreed to help out when my aunt died, then things went south. It’s time for me to do what I do best, and this isn’t it. Besides, she has you, Bess. It will all work out.” Her tone was so defensive, Bess winced.

      “Did you sign the contract yet?” Bess asked.

      The contract Bess was referring to was an employment contract between Angie and the Sunnyvale, California Board of Education for Angie to teach the third grade starting next year.

      “I have three more weeks before I have to submit the contract. I can overnight it. I know, I know, I will tell my mother before the three weeks are up. Don’t go getting your panties in a wad, Bess. I know what I’m doing.”

      Bess pushed her granny glasses farther


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