Gabe and Holly moved from window to window, stopping at the final one. “Isn’t that a great train set?” she asked.
Gabe nodded.
“Would you like one of those for Christmas?” she murmured. “You could ask Santa.”
Gabe glanced up at her. “There’s something else I want more.”
“Okay, you can tell Santa that,” she said.
They headed into the store, and had difficulty getting through the revolving doors, crushed in with other shoppers. “Can we go home and have dinner when we’re done seeing Santa?” Gabe asked.
“Of course. What would you like?”
If he said hot dogs or macaroni and cheese Holly promised herself she wouldn’t scream.
“Mashed potatoes with gravy and meat loaf with lots of ketchup.”
That would take a certain amount of effort but was definitely something she could do. “You got it.”
Gabe cast her one of his rare smiles, and Holly placed her hand on his shoulder. This was progress.
The ground floor of Finley’s was crammed. The men’s department was to the right and the cosmetics and perfume counters directly ahead. Holly inched her way forward, Gabe close by her side.
“We need to get to the escalator,” she told him, steering the boy in that direction. She hoped that once they got up to the third floor, the crowds would have thinned out, at least a little.
“Okay.” He voluntarily slipped his hand in hers.
More progress. Visiting Santa had clearly been a stroke of genius on her part.
Her guess about the crowds was accurate. When they reached the third floor Holly felt she could breathe again. If it wasn’t for Gabe, she wouldn’t come within ten miles of Thirty-fourth on a Friday night in December.
“Santa’s over there,” Gabe said, pointing.
The kid obviously had Santa Claus radar. Several spry elves in green tights and pointy hats surrounded the jolly old man in the red suit. This guy was good, too. His full white beard was real. He must’ve just gotten off break because he wore a huge smile.
The visit to Santa was free but for an extra twenty dollars, she could buy a picture. They’d stopped at an ATM on their way to the subway and she’d gotten cash. Although she couldn’t help feeling a twinge at spending the money, a photo of Gabe with Santa would be the perfect Christmas gift for Mickey.
The line moved quickly. Gabe seemed excited and happy, chattering away about this and that, and his mood infected Holly. She hadn’t felt much like Christmas until now. Classic carols rang through the store and soon Holly was humming along.
When it was Gabe’s turn, he hopped onto Santa’s knee as if the two of them were old friends.
“Hello there, young man,” Santa said, adding a “Ho, ho, ho.”
“Hello.” Gabe looked him square in the eyes.
“And what would you like Santa to bring you?” the jolly old fellow inquired.
Her nephew didn’t hesitate. “All I want for Christmas is Telly the SuperRobot.”
What in heaven’s name was that? A robot? Even without checking, Holly knew this wasn’t going to be a cheap toy. A train set—a small one—she could manage, but an electronic toy was probably out of her price range.
“Very well, young man, Santa will see what he can do. Anything else you’re interested in?”
“A train set,” Gabe said, his eyes serious. “But I really want Intellytron.”
“Intellytron,” Holly muttered to herself.
Santa gestured at the camera. “Now smile big for me, and your mom can collect the photograph in five minutes.”
“Okay.” Gabe gave Santa a huge smile, then slid off his knee so the next child in line could have a turn. It took Holly a moment to realize that Gabe hadn’t corrected Santa about who she was.
Holly went around to the counter behind Santa’s chair to wait for the photograph, accompanied by Gabe.
“I don’t know where Santa will find one of those robots,” she said, trying to get as much information as she could.
“All the stores have them,” Gabe assured her. “Billy wants an Intellytron, too.”
So she could blame Billy for this sudden desire. But since this was the only toy Gabe wanted, she’d do her best to make sure that Intellytron the SuperRobot would be wrapped and under the tree Christmas morning.
“Maybe I should see what this robot friend of yours looks like,” she suggested. A huge sign pointing to the toy department was strategically placed near Santa’s residence. This, Holly felt certain, was no coincidence.
“Toys are this way,” Gabe said, leading her by the hand.
Holly dutifully followed. “What if they don’t have the robot?” she asked.
“They will,” he said with sublime confidence.
“But what if they don’t?”
Gabe frowned and then tilted his chin at a thoughtful angle. “Can Santa bring my dad home?”
Holly’s heart sank. “Not this year, sweetheart.”
“Then all I really want is my robot.”
She’d been afraid of that.
They entered the toy department and were met by a grandmotherly woman with a name badge that identified her as Mrs. Emily Miracle.
“Why, hello there,” the woman greeted Gabe with a smile.
Gabe immediately smiled back at her. “Hello.”
“I see you’ve been to visit Santa.” She nodded at the photo Holly was holding.
“Yup,” Gabe said happily. “He was nice.”
“Did you tell Santa what you want for Christmas?”
“Intellytron the SuperRobot,” he replied.
“Telly is a wonderful toy. Let me show you one.”
“Please,” Holly said, hoping against hope that the robot was reasonably priced. If fate was truly with her, it would also be on sale.
Mrs. Miracle took them to a display on the other side of the department, directly across from the elevator. The robots would be the first toys seen by those stepping off. She wondered why they weren’t by the escalator, but then it dawned on her. Mothers with young children usually came up via elevator. The manager of this department was no dummy.
“Look!” Gabe said, his eyes huge. “It’s Telly! He’s here. I told you he would be. Isn’t he the best ever?”
“Would you like to see how he works?” the grandmotherly saleswoman asked.
“Yes, please.”
Holly was impressed by Gabe’s politeness, which she’d never seen to quite this degree. Well, it was December, and this was the one toy he wanted more than any other. The saleswoman took down the display model and started to demonstrate it when a male voice caught Holly’s attention.
“Hello again.”
She turned to face Jake, the man she’d met in Starbucks that morning. For a moment she couldn’t speak. Eventually she croaked out a subdued hello.
He looked curiously at Gabe. “Your son?”
“My nephew,” she said, recovering her voice. “Gabe’s living with me for the next year while his father’s in Afghanistan.”
“Nephew,” he repeated, and his eyes