12 Angels by Christmas

Chapter One

Mirabel

The irony did not escape her.

Mirabel was still alone, a twenty-seven-year-old hometown girl, born and raised in the city of Loves Park, Illinois, located eighty miles northwest of Chicago. All five of her younger sisters, and all nine of her younger cousins had found true love. Each safely wed, their mothers gleeful in living up to the town’s expectations.

Mirabel left her roots for college to get her degree in the big city. The windy one where her hair looked perpetually like it had just left a blender. No amount of conditioner could tame the split ends caused from navigating the hurricane force winds that stormed down the skyscrapered streets, as were their right in winter, in the city famous for them. Yes, Mirabel knew Chi-town was called the windy city because of the blow-hard politicians of a by-gone day, but the name still, literally, fit.

Aunt Milly suggested she brought spinsterhood upon herself for leaving the town of Love Spark (as she purposely miss-called it on every occasion she could.)

The local paper once ran a small article about their family after the last cousin wed. Mirabel’s Aunt Sarah sent in a humble brag that fourteen out of fifteen in one generation had all wed within a span of five years, yes, all but one.

One breaking the perfect family record.

The irony wasn’t that all had wed except her. When she was a young girl Mirabel had assumed she would marry first. She had practiced walking down the aisle with all her four-year-old elegance, like a princess to her true love, wearing her mother’s high heels while barely tripping at all. Her dolls nicely lined up, their eyes adoringly watching as she fulfilled her heart’s desire.

In her teen years, she spent her babysitting money on a subscription to Bride’s magazine. Back then, it was more about the idea of having someone who loved her unconditionally, and maybe just a teensy little bit about the dress.

Sometime in high school life got in the way. Grades became more important than boys. A college degree was something she had to have. She started a career. When she was asked out, there was always something more important.

~

Chicago, IL Sears Tower

Mirabel, I can’t believe today is your last day! Sandra said as Mirabel filled out her exit interview form, a formality that even contract workers like her were obligated to turn in to receive their last paycheck.

It’s been a fun year, she smiled as she signed her signature that resembled chicken scratch more than a carefully crafted two dimensional ink representation of who she was.

As Mirabel stood up, Sandra said, I’m going to miss you! while reaching out at the same time to give her a hug.

I can’t believe my time here is over either, but face it, the new system is up and running like a champ. Howard and the MIS department are more than capable of handling anything that pops up. I’ve felt like I blend in with the cubicle walls this last month anyway, so it’s time to move on.

Mirabel’s purse and coat were the only personal belongings left in her workspace. Everything else such as her clay pencil cup her niece had made for her, and the pictures of friends and family, she’d moved out the day before. Sandra helped her shrug into her coat as Rob from accounting walked past.

"Is it true you were the founder of Love Spark? And how come I’m only finding out about this hot little secret now? I need you to fix me up now, so I don’t have to fly to Boise for the holidays. A girlfriend is the only way my family will let me skip out without shunning me."

Mirabel groaned, picked up her purse, and shot Sandra a look.

Sandra threw a little guilty goodbye wave, picked up Mirabel’s paperwork and said while crinkling her nose, I’ll just take this down to HR for you.

Who told you? It was supposed to be a secret, Mirabel asked Rob as she hurried toward the elevator.

"And it was, all the time you were here, until the very last hour. I knew you looked familiar. Using a different last name was clever. That’s why I didn’t associate you with her. I mean, you with you."

Mirabel walked faster for the door hoping word hadn’t spread too far yet.

Now, how do I get you to find me the right girl? Rob asked as she punched the button for the elevator to take her to the parking garage.

Rob, I no longer own the company. I sold it six months ago.

Yeah, I heard, when it didn’t work for you, he smirked.

Mirabel pursed her lips into a thin line.

I mean, you must have some tips or know of a single friend, or wait! How about us? We could go out—

Mirabel shot Rob a look.

Yeah, I guess not.

The doors mercifully opened and Mirabel punched at the number for her floor.

Bye Rob, she waved and put a big smile on as the doors closed.

~

Love Spark. The company Mirabel had built and sold had made her a multi-millionaire, but could not find her a match. That was the ultimate national news-making irony of being her.

Back in college, she’d invented a computer program that matched singles by a specific ratio of compatibility and polar opposite ratios. All the fun of Romeo meeting his Juliet without the death stuff. To figure out whom the women would be attracted to on a physical level, female participants had to send in a cotton swab rubbed on their neck’s pulse point. These were matched to one of three lab mixtures of specific pheromone blends. Men were then sent three pieces of cotton each scented with one of the specific blends.

Men and women were then divided into one of nine groups based on the results. The program worked beautifully. The software was designed to take attraction on a hormonal level into account, then consider life goals, and finally throw in just enough dissimilarity to ensure the relationship was sparking on the attraction, goal, and conflict (or as the program referred to it) on the ignite scale.

It worked. Dating to marriage percentages went up, well above any other match making service available. Unfortunately, the hometown newspaper article about the marriages of sisters and cousins, and the company’s success, hit the week before the announcement of the sale.

News media, always on the prowl for a juicy themed story, (since most business news was dry), picked up and started the rumor that the company was being sold because it failed to find the perfect match for the owner. Never mind that the deal was six months in the making, which involved working day and night instead of having Mirabel looking for love.

So Mirabel did what any sensible press-hating computer-loving geek would do. She started using her middle name as her last, changed to using her full name Mirabel instead of Mira, changed her hair color and style, and wore the biggest sunglasses she could find. Mirabel knew eventually people would forget. All she had to do in the meantime was order in Chinese, and wait out the nosy newsmakers.

~

Last Thanksgiving

Have you prayed about it? her mother asked as they prepared her famous wild rice stuffing that took hours to prepare on Thanksgiving morning.

Of course! But He stopped listening when I was six. Mirabel tossed the fresh green beans with slivered almonds and a light garlic oil.

I mean lately?

"Mother, He knows. If anyone knows my heart’s desire it’s Him. He knows I want someone I care about and who cares for me. And children. He knows I want children."

Try again.

You know what? Mirabel said as she wiped her hands on the towel then placed her hands on her hips. "I’ve given up. If He cared at all, He would have made time to answer me. Shown me a sign ‘you just aren’t meant for marriage and kids’ or been upfront. I feel He’s a coward not to face me and tell me to my face. I talk to Him all the time! Earnestly, fervently, and I get—nothing."

Mirabel sat down at the island counter.

"Oh dear, I do care, and I am listening, but..."

She sighed, Yes, mother?

We’re out of cream, and I need some for the squash soup.

Mirabel picked up her purse from the seat of the chair at the island. I’ll run into town to get it. I’m in the mood for coffee anyway.

Dear? Try asking Him just one more time?

Her mother smiled like Mirabel was a lost cause, which didn’t help her mood in the least. Just knowing she would be surrounded by a houseful of lovebirds, her sisters and their husbands in a few hours’ time, was depressing enough to make her want to gag.

"If God wants to talk to me, and explain His position on the matter, He can join me for a cup of joe at the café, otherwise, I’ve had it. I’ve given up too many years on a pipe dream. This New Year’s Eve, I’m making a resolution. He can just keep not talking to me, but I won’t be talking to Him anymore either."

Mirabel kept her resolution for almost a whole year.

~

Present

When Mirabel sold the company a little over a year ago, she left her apartment with one suitcase and her laptop in the middle of the night by the service entrance to avoid the media. She did not want a microphone stuck in her face asking about her love life on national TV and the international web.

She rented a loft in an artsy part of town where no one cared about money or business. It came furnished with a bed, a couch, and a table, plus, all the cluttered half-finished paintings and leftover paint supplies from the previous starving artist tenant.

It was perfect. There was a farmers’ market every weekend kitty-corner in an old parking lot, and a Chinese delivery place around the block. She’d been here a full year and the place was beginning to feel like home. And the last eight months she’d been working as a consultant under-cover, before Rob had found her out.

It was three days before Thanksgiving and Mirabel had planned on taking until January first off. Since college, she’d never taken a vacation, or a break from work, and she had no idea what she wanted to do next in life. Other than driving eighty miles home to visit her parents’ house for Thanksgiving that was as far ahead as she had planned.

All five sisters (two pregnant, and the three others trying) with their husbands and three kids, her mom and dad and her. Sixteen in the house. Then the annual big shindig the Friday night after Thanksgiving at her Aunt Milly’s. She ran a supper club that would close for the night for the annual family party. It was the only place big enough to hold everyone.

The phone rang.

Bel, I need your help,

Hi Daddy, she said as she answered the phone. Mirabel had a special ring tone for her parents so she would know if they were calling. "I told you I’ll be home in two days. I just have