Free Millionaire's Christmas Miracle by Mary Anne Wilson Page B

wandering off on its own?”
    “Shoot,” she said, taking the wallet. “Stay here with Taylor. Maybe I can catch him before he takes off without it again.”
    “A bad habit,” she heard Jenn say as she ran out the door. She hurried down into the lobby and through the security door that hadn’t locked since she’d moved in, into the cold night, but she couldn’t see a limousine anywhere.
    The street was almost empty, with just a few cars passing by. No Quint. She looked down at the wallet, then turned and went back inside. “Shoot, shoot and double shoot,” she muttered as she trudged back up the two flights of stairs to the apartment.
    When she went in, she found Jenn and Taylor huddled over a new doll. Jenn looked up. “Sorry, we opened another one,” she said, motioning toward the doll. “I have a heck of a time saying no to this littlething.” Jenn glanced at the wallet in Amy’s hands. “I take it you didn’t catch him?”
    “No, not even close.”
    “He’ll be back,” Jenn said. “As soon as he figures out that he left the damn thing again.”
    That was what she was worried about. She sank down on the floor with the wallet still in her hands. “He knows where I live,” she muttered.
    “Oh, by the way?” Jenn said as Taylor took the bonnet off the baby doll. “The suit coat?”
    She looked up at Jenn who was reaching to snatch the jacket off the chair where she’d dropped it before going outside. “What about it?”
    “It’s not going to get clean. It’s ruined.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Very sure,” she said, touching the damp spots on the front. “The juice is so acidy…” She shrugged. “That just ruins that kind of material.”
    “Great. Now, I’ll have to get him another one.”
    “Sweetie, that sounds good, but do you have any idea what that jacket probably cost?”
    She shrugged. “He said it cost maybe two hundred dollars, and I’m thinking that means the pants and the jacket, and the pants were just fine, actually.”
    Jenn actually snorted at that. “Boy, either I’m losing my touch with fabric, or he’s delusional.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “The jacket isn’t just a jacket, it’s a creation. It’s a Marno. Italian. Custom-made.”
    Her heart was starting to drop. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
    “I wish I was. Even the label isn’t a label, it’s ahand-embroidered statement on the lining over the heart,” she said as she reached for the jacket and opened it to show the lining in the front. She pointed at something that looked like an irregularity in the silky fabric, until she looked closer. It was a flourish in embroidery that looked as if it could have said, Marno, with numbers under it. She swallowed hard. “How much is it worth?”
    Jenn studied the jacket, felt the material, then touched the label before she looked back to Amy. “Honestly?”
    “Please, don’t lie to me, okay?”
    “Marno creations start at five thousand, and take six months’ worth of labor.”
    “Holy kamoley,” Amy breathed, as she sank back on her heels.
    “Listen, it obviously doesn’t mean very much to him. These things are all relative. And if he didn’t tell you how much it really costs, he doesn’t want your money.”
    “Of course, he felt sorry for me.” She hadn’t wanted his sympathy when she’d told him about being a widow, and she sure as heck didn’t want his pity.
    “You can’t afford to have another one made for him, and even if you could, you’d have to find the tailor with Marno who does his work and do it through him.” She touched Amy, covering her hands with hers. “Sweetie, don’t kill the wallet.”
    Amy looked down at the wallet she had been unconsciously twisting in her hands. She dropped it on the floor, and stared at it. There had to be a thousanddollars in it, and he hadn’t even remembered to take it again. Jenn was right. Money didn’t mean a lot to him. Taylor crawled into her lap and cuddled into her mommy,