6

“Oh, no. What happened?” Michael asked Steve. It was the middle of the day, and Steve never showed up unannounced in the middle of the day. Something was either very wrong or very right.

“I’m sorry, man,” Steve said. “She’s not who you think she is.” He sat in a chair and then immediately stood back up.

“Who?”

Steve hesitated. Sighed. Looked Michael straight in the eye. “Your girl, Nicole.”

Michael sank back into his chair. “If this is about her past, she already told me—”

“It’s not about her past, Steve said. “It’s about earlier today.” He refused the seat Michael offered and paced the office. “You’ve been raving about her so much that I decided I go check her out. You know, get a smoothie, lay eyes on the woman who’s got my best friend all in knots.” Steve stopped midstride and turned to look at Michael. “I’ve been debating all afternoon on whether to tell you—”

Dread balled in Michael’s throat. “Is she seeing someone else?”

“She was talking to this older guy. The last thing I heard was him saying he’s proud of her for being Daddy’s little girl and snuggling up to Michael Cavanaugh.”

“She was talking to her dad?” Michael asked.

“Charming family she comes from,” Steve said. “The guy said you were the answer to all their money problems.”

Michael buried his head in his hands. “She told me he was in prison. She seemed so genuine. She even pretended she didn’t want to go out with me because of my money. How could I be so gullible?” Steve’s words settled like lead in his stomach.

Steve patted Michael’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry, but I needed to tell you.”

Michael sat up and fixed his gaze on Steve’s. “You did the right thing. I clearly don’t have the best judgment where women are concerned. Thanks for telling me.”

~*~

Nicole’s shift ended, and she toyed with the idea of walking over to Michael’s store. Maybe he’d give her some advice about what to do about her dad. He might even pray with her again. Or kiss her again. The memory of last night almost pushed away the stress of her father’s visit. Almost.

Her internal struggle didn’t last long. She headed to the store.

“May I help you?” asked a stocky salesman, not the same man she’d spoken with earlier in the week.

“I’m not shopping, thanks,” Nicole said. “I was wondering if Mr. Cavanaugh was available.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, he’s gone for the day. Would you like to leave him a message?”

Tomorrow was Sunday, and Michael didn’t work Sundays. Surely she’d talk to him before he was back at work on Monday. “No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you.” As she walked back across the mall, she once again gazed at the line of children waiting for Santa. Workers dressed as elves handed out candy canes. It being Saturday, the line wound halfway across the courtyard. Nicole smiled. If she were to talk to Santa, she would’ve wished for Michael. She checked in by text.

I really enjoyed last night. Could we get together again this weekend?

After pushing send, Nicole waited a minute, but no response came. She tucked her phone into her pocket and headed home, belting out Christmas songs the whole way. An hour later, Michael still hadn’t replied. Maybe it was for the best. With finals coming up, she really needed to focus. Starting a relationship right now wasn’t the smartest idea, but she couldn’t help it.

Halfway through her psychology practice exam, her phone buzzed with a text from Michael.

I won’t be able to see you this weekend.

Nicole’s heart sank. That was it? No explanation? Was he busy, or was there something else going on? He seemed so happy to see her this afternoon. He must be busy. Still, why wouldn’t he say so? After fifteen minutes of trying to decide whether to text him back, Nicole settled on “OK,” put her phone away, and focused on the textbooks surrounding her on the table.

The next morning, Nicole glanced at her phone and found no new messages. She powered it down. Determined to quell any speculation that Michael was upset, and unwilling to think about her father, she hurried through getting ready and arrived at the mission early. Chapel services wouldn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Still, finding someone to talk to was never a problem. Nicole visited with some of her students, and their bright smiles and attitudes in spite of their situation warmed her heart.

During the chapel service, her mind flew back to the first time she sat in this room.

“We’ll take you in,” Cora said. “We’ll give you food and help you get back on your feet, but there are rules. And one of those rules is chapel attendance. I expect you there every time we hold a service.”

Nicole had obeyed. She’d decided she could sit through a church service if it meant she didn’t need to rummage through dumpsters to get her next meal, but she’d received so much more than just a full stomach.

As she’d sat there, arms folded, expecting a lofty sermon like the ones she’d heard at Christmas and Easter, she’d been surprised. The pastor moved among the crowd touching them, praying for them. He didn’t separate himself from the lost souls listening to his voice, even though they were rejected by the rest of society. Week after week, Nicole’s walls had come crumbling down.

Now, with the option of going to any church in town, Nicole returned to the mission each Sunday. She bowed her head in prayer and focused her attention on Milo, who spoke of love and forgiveness. A picture of her father sprung to Nicole’s mind. Maybe it was time to forgive.

After service, Nicole sought out Cora.

“Hey girl,” Cora said, wrapping her in a hug. “Good news. We got permission from the mall to put out the donation collection boxes.”

“For the mission Christmas party?” Nicole asked.

Cora grinned. “Right. We’ve set up the boxes in a number of places before, and the churches are good with donations, but this is the first time we were granted permission to fill them at the mall.”

“It’s perfect. People will be shopping anyway, and this way they can buy something extra, drop it in the box, and it can be a gift for one of the residents.”

“Do you remember your first Christmas here?” Cora asked.

“Of course. I didn’t expect any presents. When you handed me a package with my name on it, it about did me in. I still wear the scarf and gloves every winter. They’re in the hallway now with my coat.” She swallowed. “I still get a lump in my throat every time I remember it.”

“Then you won’t mind helping out with the boxes?”

“Not at all,” Nicole said. “Bring them on.”