Page 15 of The Irishman's Christmas Gamble
Frankie nodded and Liam took it down.
A black orb with gold speckles swung near her eye level. “Those are the colors of my Black-and-Tan candy bar wrapper.”
The young man appeared beside her, a large box with nests of tissue paper resting in his arms. Liam laid the two ornaments in it.
“This one for the Irish rain,” Frankie said, pointing to a sphere with silver dripping down its sides.
“Now you’re getting into the spirit of it.” Liam unhooked a globe spangled with red, white, and blue. “For our new country, the land of opportunity.”
The young man fetched fresh boxes as they filled them. When they were finished, the number of silk ribbons dangling with empty ends was noticeable in the small boutique. “No problem,” the young man said. “We’ve got plenty more in the stockroom.”
As he began to tally the bill, he looked up at Frankie. “I’m giving you a volume discount.”
“I appreciate the Christmas spirit, but charge me full price,” Frankie said. “Your glassblowers need it more than I do.”
“Especially since this is on me,” Liam said, passing his credit card to the sales clerk.
“No!” She’d let him pay for the tree because she wasn’t going to argue about it in front of his two new fans, but she would not permit him to fund the extravagance of thousands of dollars in glass decorations. “It’s my tree.”
“And it’s my Christmas gift to you, to make up for all the Christmases I didn’t give you a present.”
“I didn’t give you presents either.”
“I’ve been meaning to speak with you about that,” Liam said. “You owe me.”
That was so ridiculous that Frankie coughed out a laugh. But she hauled her wallet out of her pocket and pushed a credit card across the counter. “Put the ornaments on my card, or I won’t take them.”
The sales clerk looked back and forth between them, as he held a credit card in each hand. “Ma’am…sir…I….”
“You’re torturing the poor lad,” Liam said.
“No more than you are. How about we split the bill? I figure you forced me to get a tree so you should be on the hook for some of the expense.”
“You win.” He nodded to the clerk. “Half on each card.”
“I didn’t win, so don’t pretend otherwise.”
“You noticed that, did you? I should know better than to try to out-negotiate the woman who sold her company for a billion dollars.”
The clerk’s eyes went wide and he glanced up at Frankie, who shook her head with a pitying smile at Liam. “You know the Irish. Always making up stories. Next he’ll tell you he’s the superstar soccer player Liam Keller.”
“Um, he is.” The clerk held up Liam’s credit card with his name on it.
“He has the same name and bears a slight resemblance to the man, but that’s as far as it goes. He couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a soccer ball.”
The young sales clerk looked like a deer in headlights. “Yes, ma’am. I mean, no, ma’am.”
Frankie glanced up at Liam to see his shoulders shaking and the corner of his mouth twitching. She arched an eyebrow at him and signed her credit card slip.
“Um, how do you want me to bag the ornaments?” the young man asked, looking at the pile of their purchases. “There’s an uneven number of boxes.”
“We’ll sort that out ourselves,” Liam said. “Bag them however works best.”
When they were back in the limo, Liam exploded into laughter. “You’re the very devil. ‘Couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a soccer ball.’ I had a coach say that to me once after I missed a penalty kick.”
“You deserved it for being such a pain in the ass about paying for the decorations.”
His laughter stopped as though she’d slammed a door on it. “You know, I could buy you several hundred of those balls without having to live on the street.”
