Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [79]
“Contact your local blogger,” Eric said dryly. “The situation will be all over the Internet in minutes.”
“And no one will take responsibility for starting a panic,” Harold said quietly. “But I don’t know that we have a choice.”
“What are Lex and Heather doing?” Eric asked.
“I ran into them down in personnel. Lex wanted to go through the list of employees at the mall. Heather was going to talk to some of the shop owners about their staffers. I haven’t seen either of them in the past hour. Lex did say that it was an all-day job. He’s taken two of the assistants from the administration office to help him. Come hell or high water, there’s always paperwork, right?”
In a warm, two-story colonial home about two miles from Timberwoods, the spirit of Christmas was evidenced by the aroma of cookies baking and children decorating a tree. The wall phone in the kitchen jangled and an attractive brunette left her baking to answer it.
“Cheryl, this is Mary,” said the voice at the other end of the line. “Listen, I hate to do this, but I can’t go with you to the mall tonight. I have to take Mack to the airport, and it’ll be too late when I get back.”
“No problem. I want to take Sirena to the vet.” Cheryl’s glance fell on the tiny Yorkshire terrier that had been a birthday present from her husband, Al. “She’s having trouble with one of her ears. When do you want to go then?”
“How about Thursday? I can make it for the whole day and into the evening if you want. My mother is taking the kids after school. Why don’t you send your kids over there, too? Mom is filling stockings and making popcorn balls for the community day care center. The kids can all help. She’ll give them dinner and we can pick them up when we finish shopping. What do you think?”
Cheryl smiled. Mary was a live wire, a small, compact woman with bright red hair and a perpetual elfin quality. Aside from being quick and sharp, she had a heart of gold. “Great idea,” she said. “That’ll give me an extra day to see if I can wrangle some money out of my darling husband. Is this lunch and dinner?”
“Let’s put it this way—I have twenty dollars in cash. I have to buy a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread. What’s left over is for lunch and dinner. I was planning on using plastic.”
“You and me both. Can’t get through the holidays without credit cards. By the way, where are we going?”
“What do you mean, where are we going? We only have one place to shop—Timberwoods.”
“That place makes me nervous. They had a bomb scare over there the other day.”
“That’s nothing new,” Mary said airily. “Maybe it’s a disgruntled customer or something. Hell, I haven’t figured out how to get in and out of there yet. Every time I go over there I get lost and have to walk five miles to my car.”
“That’s just it,” Cheryl complained. “I can never find the exits, either. That place is overwhelming. Too big and too many people.”
“You’ve got two choices: Timberwoods or the huge discount store out on the highway—”
“Which is a nightmare,” Cheryl interrupted. “Let’s hit the mall. But I’m staying on one level and I’m making sure I know where all the exits are.”
“You’re nuts,” Mary complained. “I have some store gift cards I want to use, and store charge accounts. How can we stay on one level?”
“Use your credit card, then you can shop anywhere,” Cheryl answered snidely.
“My main one is up to its