Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [73]
“We lost,” Eric said sotto voce. “Just look at them. I told you, Baumgarten, the center stays open.”
The chief of security banged on the lectern with his gavel. “All right, the decision was left to you. It’s obvious what your answer is.”
Barry Skyer said harshly, “I’m leaving; the rest of you can do whatever you please. Right now I have to get ready for a sale!”
“If he leaves, the rest will follow,” Lex whispered. “How can they be so stupid?”
“Ka-ching, ka-ching,” Harold grumbled. “All they want to hear is their cash registers. Well, we tried,” he said in defeat.
“Do you think any of them will carry the story to the outside?” Lex asked.
“No way! You’ve heard of lips being sealed? Well, this is the perfect example. You won’t hear a word of this being mentioned. Not one word.”
“We’re back to waiting,” Heather said softly, tears filling her wide blue eyes.
“It’s just like in the storybooks,” Maria Andretti sighed happily. From the window near her bed in the little house across the highway, she could look down on the Timberwoods Mall. The shadow of the nearby hospital had almost reached it. But for now she could see the mall well. She reached for her little sketch pad and a piece of crayon, made a few strokes, then laid the pad back down. She was too tired to draw. Instead she would watch the busy men shoveling the snow outside the mall. If only she could go over there. Dr. Tucker had said that if the outside temperature reached the forties, she could go in her wheelchair. Maybe if she could manage to stay awake she might see it again—her miracle! What an awesome secret it was. She had been so excited she’d thrown the covers off, and then her mother had closed the drapes and told her to take a nap. This time, Maria vowed, she wouldn’t get so jumpy. She would watch and wait. Sooner or later he would be back, she was sure of it. It must be a gift that God was giving her because she was so sick. Mommy said that God did make miracles and this had to be one! No one else had seen Santa Claus on the roof of the shopping center. If anyone had seen him, her brothers and sisters would have told her about it.
She, little Maria Andretti, was the only one. The only one to see Santa Claus in the daytime. Everything was so wonderful. If the temperature would just get to the forties, then everything would be perfect.
“Hi, honey,” Carol Andretti said cheerfully as she came into the frilly pink and white bedroom. “Did you sleep well? Have you been drawing?” she asked, her eyes going to the few crayon lines on the sketch pad.
“I started to and then I got tired. I’ve been watching the men working at the mall. I never saw so much snow, did you, Mommy?” Not waiting for a reply, the six-year-old continued. “Is the temperature high enough, Mommy? Will today be the day?”
“I’m afraid not, sweetie. It’s thirty-two degrees outside and it’s still snowing. You know what Dr. Tucker said. We can’t risk you catching cold.”
“But Mommy . . .”
“No buts, little lady. A promise is a promise. I said I’d take you to the mall when the doctor said it was okay. Anyway, today is Sunday and Santa is resting. He’ll be back tomorrow. Right now I want to know what you’d like for breakfast. How does a nice glass of eggnog sound? With some French toast?”
“I’m too tired, Mommy. I just want to lie here and watch all the people going into the mall.”
A note of panic edged its way into Carol Andretti’s voice. “You have to eat, sweetie. Remember what the doctor said? And the doctor’s coming over today to see how you’re doing.” She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. God, her daughter was so young, so little. Why her? “I’ll pour you some eggnog—at least it will go down easy.”
Why were Maria’s eyes so bright? She laid a practiced hand on the small forehead. The ominous statement of the doctor rang in her ears: If she gets a cold or infection, it’s dangerous. She has virtually no resistance at this point. His tone had been kindly, but facts were facts.
Please, God, not now. Not until