The Perfect Christmas - Debbie Macomber [15]
“Got it,” Cassie said aloud.
“This is one of the busiest shopping weekends of the year, so you shouldn’t have any problem making your quota.”
In the back of her mind, she recalled Simon’s casually mentioning something about collecting a certain dollar amount and the way he’d made light of it. The recommended donation amount turned out to be $60 an hour. That was a dollar a minute! How was she supposed to know how much money she’d collected when the red pot was securely locked? It wasn’t as if she could pry the lid off and count the cash.
“Are we ready?” their helpful leader called out.
Cassie’s shout blended in with the others’. “Ready!”
One by one, they received their assignments. Cassie was told to stand in front of the Target store, which had an outside entrance. With bell in hand, she headed toward her designated post. This wasn’t so bad. Not only was she helping the underprivileged but she was moving toward the man of her dreams.
She waited eagerly as a couple walked up. Smiling sweetly, she jerked her hand several times in succession, making the bell jangle. “Merry Christmas,” she greeted them.
The couple avoided eye contact and entered the store via the door farthest from Cassie.
Their lack of generosity—and appreciation for her efforts—didn’t faze her.
Not much later, a grandmotherly type approached her. “Do you have change for a five?” the woman asked.
“Sorry, we can’t make change.”
“Oh, dear,” she said regretfully, “then perhaps I can give you something on my way out.”
“Don’t worry,” Cassie said cheerfully, “I’ll be here.”
In her first thirty minutes, Cassie estimated that she’d collected less than five dollars, which wasn’t even close to her hourly goal. She stomped her feet to ward off the cold. In an effort to liven things up a bit, she attempted to ring the tunes of popular Christmas songs.
She gave that up during “Frosty the Snowman” when a teenage boy walked past and reached for his cell phone. He said, “Hello. Hello. Hello,” before he realized it was her bell and not his cell. He stopped in front of her and glared.
“Sorry,” she said, and gasped when the youth shot her the finger.
“Well, Merry Christmas to you, too.” Of all the nerve!
After an hour Angie came by and mercifully handed her a cup of steaming hot coffee.
“God love you,” she said, gratefully accepting it.
“How’s it going?”
If it’d been Simon rather than Angie, she would have declared that this was the most wonderful, rewarding experience of her life. With Angie she felt compelled to tell the truth. “I can’t feel my nose.”
“Can I get you anything else?” her friend asked, her expression concerned.
“Put some money in the pot. I’m nowhere near my quota.”
“Oh, sure.” Angie put in a hefty donation.
“Thank you.”
“Do you want me to stand in for you? You look like you could use a break.”
“No way.” Simon Dodson was sure to find out about it and consider her unworthy of John. Cassie wasn’t willing to risk that.
“You have a donation quota?”
Cassie nodded. “I bet that guy at the other entrance isn’t having this problem,” she muttered. Her breath made small whiffs of fog. Her nose wasn’t the only body part in danger of frostbite. Even the knit cap wasn’t enough to completely protect her ears. She’d swear those weren’t earrings dangling from her lobes, but tiny icicles.
“I’ll come and see you again later,” Angie promised.
“Great, and thanks for the coffee.” Cassie wondered whether anyone would notice if she stuck her nose in the hot liquid.
Angie disappeared inside the mall and Cassie rang her bell with renewed enthusiasm. It helped to remember that in less than three hours she would have completed one of the tasks that would bring her closer to meeting John.
In retrospect she wished she’d pushed Simon to show her John’s photograph. Then again, she didn’t want any predetermined impressions of him. He was already bigger than life in her mind. She pictured him at the head of a boardroom table or the helm of a sailboat. Or…
Suddenly,