Nothing screams chaos, mayhem, and desperation quite like working retail over the holidays, but with bills to pay, hungry mouths to feed, and the clock ticking on an eviction notice and her sanity, Ginger Harriet is near the end of her rope. To make matters worse, she had no intentions of becoming a single mother of three, but after the disappearance of her sister and brother-in-law, she’s determined to do her best.
For a Harriet woman, family always comes first.
To give her nieces and nephew the Christmas they deserve, Ginger will do anything—even tango with the devil himself, her sister’s business partner and best friend, Kace Dannicks.
Unless she convinces Kace she’s really not the woman he wants in his life and she only wants his help to find her sister, Ginger’s going to need a miracle to escape the holidays unscathed—and still single.
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From Chapter One…
Why had I believed taking on two extra part-time jobs in retail would somehow solve all of my life’s problems? It solved some of my life’s problems, which involved having the money to feed my twin nieces and my nephew, but it left me contemplating mass murder in the mall. As a single woman, aged thirty-four without children, I should’ve been spending the three weeks leading up to Christmas spoiling my sister’s three kids rather than pretending I was qualified parent material.
I could barely take care of myself. I was not ready or able to care for a pair of twins, aged twelve, and their brother, aged sixteen and going on fifty. All in all, I only had one thing going for me: the brats made decent house guests and could amuse themselves while I worked.
If I hadn’t been so worried about Michelle’s disappearance, along with her husband and general partner in crime, also known as my brother-in-law, I’d be sorely tempted to kill them both for putting me in such an uncomfortable position, which involved facing off against mall moms who were convinced they knew everything and I knew nothing.
They weren’t necessarily wrong, which made a mess of things.
At five minutes until closing, the store should have been empty, but a handful of men and women still wandered the aisles in search of confectionary perfection, ignoring my supervisor’s notices on the intercom that everyone needed to check out. If I clocked out over my allotted time, the head honcho, Mr. Grande, would flip his lid, call a staff meeting after hours on a Sunday out of spite, and chew us all out, showcasing everyone’s misdeeds.
The customer was always right, and it didn’t matter if they were the reason I couldn’t clock out on time.
To make matters worse, my name tag cheerfully confessed my name was Ginger, and my current part-time job involved the blasted cookies that I both loved and hated above all others.
One of these days, this Ginger would really snap, and I’d use a snickerdoodle as my weapon of choice, as gingersnaps had a tendency to break into pieces without the choking hazards of my preferred cookie. If I was going to go postal for the holidays, I’d do it right.
The headlines would be spectacular.
Fortunately for everyone in the store, it wasn’t my day to snap, not with my nieces and nephew needing me to come home with groceries and somehow pay my rent before I got an eviction notice for the holidays.
When it rained, it really poured, and I still had no idea how I’d gone from comfortably living from paycheck to paycheck to being on a collision course with the nearest homeless shelter. My sister took some of the blame; she kept begging me to attend work parties with her, and I was too damned proud to ask for help buying venue-appropriate attire and accessories.
Just like I had from the day I’d turned eighteen, I’d made my own way in life without asking anyone for any help. My impressive streak would soon end, however. No matter what I did, no matter how many extra hours I worked, I couldn’t find my sister and brother-in-law, I couldn’t afford to pay my rent and feed her kids, and I sure as hell couldn’t afford to pay all their expenses.
Add in the lawyer fees to make sure I had custody of the kids while my sister and brother-in-law were gone, and I’d learned what dire straits truly meant.
The first of the customers, an elderly woman with her cart loaded with a fortune in candy and cookies, rolled up and began the meticulous process of placing her finds on the counter. She organized by color, and while she did that, I prepared the bags so that when I rang up her purchases, I could store them in her way of choosing.
The last granny I’d crossed had verbally crucified me, and I’d learned my lesson: give the little old ladies what they wanted, because they could be meaner than a honey badger if provoked.
I began ringing up the purple candies, placing them in their designated bag. When she wasn’t placing things on the counter, she watched me like a hawk, making certain I weighed everything just right. She didn’t strike me as a skinflint, much to my relief; the first bag I rang up came in at slightly over a pound, and the skinflints wanted exactly a pound.
I might make it through the rest of my shift alive. I hoped.
My sister’s kids might miss me if I perished at the hands of an angry granny.
After the purple candies, I rang up the rest of her order, cycling through the colors of the rainbow, as I figured that would appeal to her. It must have, because by the time I finished and informed her she had purchased almost four hundred dollars in candies, she grinned.
“Dear, could you get me six of those cookies?” She pointed at the snickerdoodles, and I donned a fresh pair of gloves and packaged them for her, adding them to her bill.
“Which bag would you like them in, ma’am?”
She pointed at the one with the purple candies, and I did as asked. Once done, she held up her phone. “Do you take mobile payments?”
I wanted to hug the little old granny who’d embraced technology, as our store rarely had issues with our mobile payment terminal. I pressed the button to initiate the payment and gestured to the payment interface in front of her. Two clicks and a tap later, and the register made a happy pinging noise, informing me the transaction was approved. I printed and handed over the receipt. “Thank you, ma’am. Do you need help with your bags?”
“That would be sweet of you, dear.”
It only cost me a few seconds to help her put the bags into her arms, and she waddled off in the direction of my supervisor, who waited by the entry to lock up after I finished checking everyone out.
In what classified as a true miracle, none of the customers gave me any problems, and they even waited patiently for me to work through the line. Every transaction processed without event, and only one woman forgot how English worked, something I assumed was from the anxiety of trying to shop anywhere near Christmas.
My supervisor dimmed the lights to deter new customers from showing up while I helped the final customer bag his insane collection of cookies and cupcakes. Once he left, armed with enough sugar to take out an entire mall loaded with children, I heaved a relieved sigh.
Somehow, I’d survived another day of mayhem.
“Ginger, mind helping with the security gate?”
Once we had the security gate in place, no new customers would come, and we’d slip under it before securing it from the outside when we left. I abandoned my post at the register and helped her drag down the heavy steel barricade that would keep the store and its fortune of confections safe overnight. “Think we’ll have enough time to clock out before the boss gets pissy?”
“We’ll be cutting it close. The little old lady wants you to have the snickerdoodles, and she asked if I’d let you exchange them for whatever cookies you actually wanted. But I know you and those damned snickerdoodles, so they’re all yours. She was grateful you took the time to bag her candies properly. Her granddaughter has severe OCD, and the candies are for her.”
That explained the meticulous packaging of the little old lady’s order. “Really? I thought we weren’t supposed to accept anything from the customers?”
“She gave it to me outside of the store, so I’ll let it slide this once. Stay quiet about it.”
“Sure. Thanks, Tammy.”
“Anytime. You did great today. It’s the first time I’ve seen a shift with minimal insanity this time of year.”
Being exhausted to the point of numbness likely helped me ignore most of the insanity and deal with irate customers who required their candies to be perfect. “Thanks. Has the roster changed for tomorrow?”
“You’re still on your regular shift. If I have any extra hours, I’ll let you know as soon as I know.” Tammy gave me the cookies, which I’d share with my sister’s children.
I couldn’t give them much, but maybe they’d appreciate a few of my snickerdoodles.
While exhausted and ready to sleep in the first convenient spot, I went through the full list of tasks needed to properly close the shop, choosing to do my job right and run the risk of clocking out late versus doing a half-assed job. While a half-assed job would’ve gotten me clocked out on time, I’d pay for it later.
I couldn’t afford to lose any one of my jobs, not until I found my sister and brother-in-law.
How I’d find the time remained a mystery.