Free Call Me Mrs. Miracle by Debbie Macomber Page A

arrived, ten minutes later than usual, he was breathless. He’d just clocked in and headed for the elevator when his father stopped him, wearing a frown that told him J.R. wasn’t happy.
    “Are you keeping bankers’ hours these days?”
    “No,” Jake told him. “I had an appointment.” A slight stretch of the truth.
    “I was looking for you.”
    “Any particular reason?” Jake asked. He’d bet his lunch break this sudden interest in the toy department had to do with those robots.
    His father surprised him, however, with a completely different question. “I heard from HR that you requested a transfer for one of the seasonal staff….”
    “Mrs. Miracle.”
    “Who? No, that wasn’t the name.”
    “No, it’s Merkle or Michaels or something like that. The name badge mistakenly says Miracle, and she insisted that’s what we call her.”
    His father seemed confused, which was fine with Jake. He felt he was being rather clever to keep J.R.’s attention away from the robots.
    J.R. ignored the comment. “You asked for this Mrs.Miracle or whoever she is to be transferred and then you changed your mind. Do I understand correctly?”
    “Yes. After I made the initial request, I realized she was a good fit for the department—a grandmotherly figure who relates well to kids and parents. She adds exactly the right touch.”
    “I see,” his father murmured. “Okay, whatever you decide is fine.”
    That was generous, seeing that he was the department head, Jake mused with more affection than sarcasm.
    “While I have you, tell me, how are sales of that expensive robot going?”
    Jake wasn’t fooled. His father already knew the answer to that. “Sales are picking up. We sold a total of twenty-five over the weekend.”
    “Twenty-five,” his father said slowly. “There’re still a lot of robots left in the storeroom, though, aren’t there?”
    “Yes,” Jake admitted.
    “That’s what I thought.”
    He made some additional remark Jake couldn’t quite grasp, but it didn’t sound like something he wanted to hear, anyway, so he didn’t ask J.R. to repeat it.
    As he entered the toy department, clipping on his “Manager” badge, Jake was glad to see Mrs. Miracle on duty.
    “Good morning, Mr. Finley,” she said, looking pleased with herself.
    “Good morning. I apologize for being late—”
    “No problem. I sold two Intellytrons this morning.”
    “Already?” This was encouraging news and improved his workday almost before it had started. “That’s wonderful!”
    “They seem to be catching on.”
    The phone rang just then, and Jake stepped behind the counter to answer. The woman at the other end of the line was looking for Intellytron and sighed with audible relief when Jake assured her he had plenty in stock. She asked that he hold one for her.
    “I’ll be happy to,” Jake said. He found Mrs. Miracle watching him, smiling, when he ended the conversation. “I think you might be right,” he said. “That was a woman calling about Intellytron. She sounded excited when I told her we’ve got them.”
    Mrs. Miracle rubbed her palms together. “I knew it.” The morning lull was about to end; in another half hour, the store would explode with customers. Since toys were on the third floor, it took time for shoppers to drift up the escalators and elevators, so they still had a few minutes of relative peace. Jake decided to take advantage of it by questioning his rather unusual employee.
    “I thought I saw you on Saturday night,” he commented in a nonchalant voice, watching her closely.
    “Me?” she asked.
    Jake noted that she looked a bit sheepish. “Did you happen to take a walk around Central Park around ten or ten-thirty?”
    “My heavens, no! After spending all day on my feet, the last thing I’d do is wander aimlessly around Central Park. At that time of night, no less.” Her expression turned serious. “What makes you ask?”
    “I could’ve sworn that was you I saw across from the