The Perfect Christmas - Debbie Macomber [17]
Cassie eyed him warily. “Simon sent you, didn’t he?”
“Simon? Who’s Simon?”
“This is a test, isn’t it?”
“Lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You can’t fool me! Simon sent you to see how I’d respond. Well, you can tell him I saw through your little charade and it didn’t work.” She felt downright smug that Simon hadn’t outsmarted her.
Scrooge stared at her, wearing a puzzled look. Then his eyes narrowed. “Lady, I suggest you seek counseling.”
“Thank you, but I suggest you make an appointment first. You can tell Simon I said that, okay?”
He backed away from her as if he suddenly suspected she carried an infectious disease.
Donations were few and far between, and Cassie glanced toward her counterpart at the other end of the mall with envy. He had more business than he knew what to do with. She, on the other hand, felt like the Little Match Girl. Using her foot, she eased the red kettle ever so slightly toward the department store entrance. She was about halfway between the two when the other charity collector noticed.
Cassie eased her foot away from the pot and gazed in the opposite direction.
“Hey, you!” he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You stay in your half of the mall and I’ll stay in mine.”
Playing innocent, Cassie pressed her gloved hand to her chest. “Are you speaking to me?” she called.
“You drag that kettle one step closer, sister, and you’ll live to regret it.”
Cassie opened her mouth, then closed it. She’d been caught. There was nothing to do but drag the kettle back, one step at a time.
Eventually Cassie returned to her original spot and figured she’d probably lost thirty minutes in this attempt to find more fertile ground. With no option other than to follow her original plan, she continued to greet the shoppers, doing her best to display a cheerful holiday spirit.
A young couple approached from the mall parking lot and Cassie made eye contact with the man. The woman, who carried a cup of takeout coffee, didn’t appear to see her, but he looked friendly enough, so Cassie rang the bell with renewed energy. These people seemed like the kind who’d dig deep into their wallets in order to help the less fortunate.
As they neared the store, just as Cassie had hoped, the man reached in his back pocket for his wallet. This was a good sign. Cassie smiled encouragingly.
The woman walked toward the store entrance, while the man paused in front of Cassie and slipped a twenty-dollar bill into the pot.
The woman quickly rejoined her husband. “How much did you put in there?” she demanded.
“Come on, Alicia, it’s for charity.”
“Charity begins at home. We’ve been through this, remember? We’re on a Christmas budget. We don’t have extra money to be giving away.”
The man grimaced apologetically.
“It’s for a good cause,” Cassie reminded the woman.
“As for you,” Alicia said menacingly. “I saw the way you were flirting with my husband. You didn’t think I noticed, did you?”
Cassie was too stunned to react. “I wasn’t—”
“Don’t bother denying it. I have eyes. Maybe the two of you are old friends.”
“Alicia,” the man snapped.
“That’s it, we’re finished. It’s over.” In a fit of anger she tossed the cup of coffee at Cassie.
She gasped and leaped back but not in time to avoid having coffee splash the front of her caramel-colored wool coat.
The man looked horrified, whispered something Cassie couldn’t hear, then hurried after his wife. “Alicia, Alicia…”
In shock and denial, Cassie stared down at her coat. Some very unladylike comments formed in her mind. However, she didn’t express them since that would reflect poorly on the charitable organization. Within minutes she was glad she’d kept her mouth shut. Because, to Cassie’s astonishment, donations started to increase dramatically following the incident. She glanced at the other bell ringer, who was scowling at her. He rang his bell louder and harder.
Cassie retaliated with an all-out rendition of “Deck the Halls” and soon had a short line, everyone waiting to drop in donations. She wasn’t sure what had