So Scott had mentioned it to J.R. but not to him. Still, it must’ve taken real humility to acknowledge that he’d been wrong.
“I’m proud of you, son,” J.R. continued. “You went with your gut and you were right to do it.”
Jake wondered what would’ve happened if Finley’s had been stuck with four hundred leftover robots. Fortunately, however, he wouldn’t have to find out.
“I checked inventory this morning, and we have less than twenty of the robots in stock.”
Jake didn’t need to point out the benefits of being the only store in the tristate area with any robots in stock. Having a supply—even a rapidly dwindling supply—of the season’s most popular toy brought more shoppers into the store and created customer loyalty.
“They’re selling fast. The entire quantity will be gone before Christmas.”
“Good. Good,” his father said. He grinned as he tilted back in his high leather chair. “Oh, I enjoyed meeting your lady friend last night.”
“Holly enjoyed meeting you.”
“She’s special, isn’t she?”
Jake was astonished that his father had immediately discerned his feelings for Holly. “Yes, but. What makes you say that?” He had to ask why it had been so obvious to his father.
J.R. didn’t respond for a moment. Finally he said, “I recognized it from the way you looked at her. The way you looked at each other.”
Jake nodded but didn’t speak.
“I remember when I met your mother.” There was a faraway expression in his eyes. “I think I fell in love with Helene as soon as I saw her. She was the daughter of one of my competitors and so beautiful I had trouble getting out a complete sentence. It’s a wonder she ever agreed to that first date.” He smiled at the memory.
So rarely did his father discuss his mother and sister that Jake kept quiet, afraid that any questions would distract J.R. He craved details, but knew he had to be cautious.
“I loved your mother more than life itself. I still do.”
“I know,” Jake said softly.
“She wasn’t just beautiful,” he murmured, and the same faraway look stole over him. “She had a heart unlike anyone I’ve ever known. Everyone came to her when they needed something, whether it was a kind word, a job, some advice. She never turned anyone away.” His face, so often tense, relaxed as he sighed. “I felt that my world ended the day your mother and Kaitlyn died. Since then you’ve been my only reason for going on.”
“Well, I hope your grandchildren will be another good reason,” Jake teased, hoping to lighten the moment.
J.R. gave a hearty laugh. “They certainly will. So … I was right about you and Holly.”
“It’s too early to say for sure,” Jake hedged. Confident though he was about his own feelings, he didn’t want to speak for Holly. Not yet.
“But you know.”
“It looks … promising.”
Slapping the top of his desk, J.R. laughed again. “I thought so. I’m happy for you, Jake.”
“Thanks, Dad.” But he doubted J.R. would be as happy when he found out what that meant, at least as far as Christmas was concerned.
“Oh, before I forget,” J.R. said with exquisite timing. “Dora’s ordered the plane tickets for Christmas Eve. We leave JFK at seven and land in Saint John around—” “Dad, I’ll need to change my ticket,” Jake said, interrupting his father.
That brought J.R. up short. “Change your ticket? Why?”
“I’ll join you on the twenty-sixth,” Jake explained. “Holly invited me to spend Christmas Day with her and her nephew.”
J.R.’s frown was back as he mulled over that statement. “You’re going to do it?”
“Yes. I told her I would.”
J.R. stood and walked to the window, turning his back to Jake. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Holly invited you, too.”
“You told her it was out of the question, didn’t you?”
More or less. “You’d be welcome if you chose to come.”
Slowly J.R. turned around. “Well,” he said with a sigh, “I suppose it was unrealistic of me not to realize times are changing.” He paused. “I look forward to our vacation every year.”
Jake had never thought of their trip to the Caribbean as a getaway. His father always brought work with him and they spent their week discussing trends, reading reports and forecasting budgets. It was business, not relaxation.
“You call it a vacation?“ Jake asked, amused.
“Well, yes. What would you call it?” J.R. frowned in confusion.
Jake hesitated, then decided to tell the truth, even if his father wasn’t ready to hear it. “I call it an escape from reality—but not from work. A vacation is supposed to be fun, a break, a chance to do nothing or else do something completely out of the ordinary. Not sit in a hotel room and do exactly the same thing you’d be doing here.”
J.R.’s frown deepened.
“Admit it, Dad,” Jake said. “You don’t go to the islands to lounge on the beach or snorkel or take sightseeing trips. Far from it. You escape New York because you can’t bear to be here over Christmas.”
J.R. shook his head.
Jake wasn’t willing to let it go. “From the time Mom and Kaitlyn died, you’ve done everything possible to pretend there’s no Christmas.
“As a businessman you need the holidays to survive financially but if it wasn’t for that, you’d ban anything to do with Christmas from your life—and mine.”
J.R. glared at Jake. “I believe you’ve said enough.”
“You need to accept that Christmas had nothing to do with the accident. It happened, and it changed both our lives forever, but it was a fluke, a twist of fate. I wish with everything in me that Mom and Kaitlyn had stayed home that afternoon, but the fact is, they didn’t. They went out, and because their cab collided with another one, they were killed.”
“Enough!” J.R. shouted.
Jake stood. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Dad.”
“If that’s the case, then you’ve failed. I am upset.”
Jake regretted that; nevertheless, he felt this had to be said. “I’m tired of running away on Christmas Eve. You can do it if you want, but I’m through.” “Fine. Spend the day with Holly if you prefer. It’s not going to bother me.”
“I wish you’d reconsider and join us.”
J.R. tightened his lips. “No, thanks. You might think I’m hiding my head in the sand, but the truth is, I enjoy the islands.”
Jake might have believed him if J.R. had walked along the beach even once or taken any pleasure in their surroundings. Instead, he worked from early morning to late evening, burying himself in his work in a desperate effort to ignore the time of year—the anniversary of his loss.
“Yes, Dad,” Jake said rather than allow their discussion to escalate into a full-scale argument.
“You’ll come the next day, then?”
Jake nodded. He’d make his own flight arrangements. They always stayed at the same four-star hotel, the same suite of rooms.
“Good.”
Jake