“Sorry, no. I thought you were going to use your Christmas bonus to purchase the robot this week.”
“I’m not getting one,” she blurted out. She was close to tears, which embarrassed her.
“Listen, I’ll buy the robot for Gabe and—”
“No,” she broke in. “We already talked about that, remember? I won’t let you.”
“Why not?”
“Because... I just won’t. Let’s leave it at that.”
He frowned but reluctantly agreed. “Okay, if that’s the way you want it.”
“That’s the way it has to be.”
“At least let me hold one for you,” Jake said before she could compose herself enough to ask.
“You can do that?”
Jake nodded. “Sure. I’ll set one aside right away and put your name on it. I’ll tell everyone on staff that it isn’t to be sold. How does that sound?”
She closed her eyes as relief washed over her. “Thank you. That would be perfect.”
“Are you all right now?” He placed his hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture.
“I’m fine. I apologize if I seem unreasonable.”
“I understand.”
“You do?” Holly wasn’t convinced she could explain it herself. She just knew she had to do this. For Gabe, for Mickey...and for herself. The robot had become more than a toy. It was a symbol of her commitment to her nephew and her desire to give him the Christmas he deserved.
She saw that the department was busy and she was keeping Jake from his customers. “I have to get back to the office,” she said.
He grinned. “Next time maybe you could stay longer.”
Holly smiled back. “Next time I will.”
“I’ll call you. You’re in the phone directory?”
She nodded, hoping she’d hear from him soon. “See you, Jake.”
“See you, Holly.”
As she walked toward the elevator, Mrs. Miracle joined her. “Mr. Finley suggested I take my lunch hour now,” she said as they stepped into the empty car together. “What I feel like having is fried chicken.”
“Fried chicken,” Holly echoed. “My mother, who was born and raised in the South, has a special family recipe but she hasn’t made it in years. I can’t even remember the last time we ate fried chicken.” In this age of heart-healthy diets, her mother had focused on lean, low-carb meals.
“A special recipe?” Mrs. Miracle murmured. “I’ll bet it was good.”
“The best.” Now that she thought about it, Holly figured she might have a copy in her kitchen. “Mom put together a book of family recipes for me when I left home. I wonder if she included that one.” Fried chicken was the ultimate comfort food and would make a wonderful dinner when she invited Jake over—sometime in the new year.
“She probably did. That sounds just like her.”
“You know my mother?” Holly asked, surprised.
“No...no, but having met you, I know she must be a very considerate woman, someone who cares about family and traditions.”
What a lovely compliment. The kind words helped take the sting out of her employer’s refusal to give Holly a Christmas bonus. Lindy Lee was a modern-day Scrooge as far as Holly was concerned.
That evening, as dinner heated in the microwave, Holly searched through her kitchen drawers for the notebook where her mother had written various recipes passed down through her family.
“What would you think of homemade fried chicken for Christmas?” Holly asked Gabe. It wasn’t the traditional dinner but roast turkey with all the fixings was out of her budget now. If Gabe considered her fried chicken a success, she’d serve it again when Jake came over.
“I’ve had take-out chicken. Is that the same?”
“The same?” she repeated incredulously. “Not even close!”
“Then I’ve never had it.” He shrugged. “If it’s not frozen or out of a can Dad doesn’t know how to make it,” Gabe said. “Except for macaroni and cheese in the box.” He sat down at the computer and logged on to the internet, preparing to send an email to his father, as he did every night. He hadn’t typed more than a few words when he turned and looked at Holly. “What’s for dinner tonight?”
“Leftover Chinese. You okay with that?”
“Sure.” Gabe returned to the computer screen.
Ten minutes later, he asked, “Can you invite Jake for Christmas dinner?”
“He won’t be able to come.”
“Why not?”
“He’s going away for Christmas.”
Gabe was off the internet and playing one of his games, jerking the game stick left and right as he battled aliens. “Why?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
“I will.” Apparently he’d won the battle because he let go of the stick and faced her. “You’re going to see him again, right? You want to, don’t you?”