With just one week left for christmas, the store was crowded with people buying gifts for their relatives or friends. Neeharika paused at the entrance. Nobody would notice me probably,she thought.
Christmas was the time to make money, have fun and celebrate. But for Natasha, owner of the N & J store, it was the most tiring part of the year. Scanning through the store's security cameras, Natasha's attention was caught by a women. She was looking about but not in the way women do while picking up groceries. She wore a faded jeans with a sweater. But why was she carrying her coat in her hand instead of putting it on. The store definitely was not that warm. Sensing something wrong Natalie went to the grocery section.
Neeharika looked around her and slowly picked a packet. Just as she was about to slip it inside her coat someone called her from behind.
"Excuse me, ma'am"
Neeharika jumped at her voice and as a result the packet fell on the floor.
"Yes?" said Neeharika, trying to compose herself.
"I am Natasha. I own this store. Would you mind coming with me, there is something we need to discuss" Natasha said as she led Nihareeka towards her cabin.
A rather tensed Neeharika followed Natasha to her cabin. Natasha's cabin was warm and everything there was made from wood. There were photos kept on the table.
"That's my son, Jay" Natasha said when she saw Neeharika staring at the pictures.
Jay reminded Neeharika of her own son Sumit. Christmas was around but Neeharika could not even afford to get Sumit a nice present. Sumit although just seven years old still understood what they were going through and never demanded anything.
"So.." Neeharika looked up with tears in her eyes. Natasha was sitting on her chair now.
"Care to explain why you were hiding that packet in your coat instead of taking it to the cash counter?" questioned Natasha.
"I know what i did was wrong but,....
"Wrong? That's a crime what you just did. I could call the police and you'll be behind the bars within minutes."
"No please don't do that. Believe me, if I had any other option I wouldn't have been doing this." cried Neeharika.
"Then why are you here?"
"I have a son whose about the same age as your son. There was a time when even I was rich and could afford all these luxuries. But last month i got divorced. My husband forged a few documents and took away my house and all my money. There was nothing I could do. I've been living in the cheapest motel that i could find. I don't even have a job and the Little money that I had is also about to be finished.
I thought even if I could manage a nice dinner for Christmas it would be great. But I didn't have that much money." sobbed Neeharika.
"How about I make you a deal?" asked Natasha.
Neeharika looked up, her eyes red because of all the crying. She really looked worried.
"I'll not call the police but on the the condition that you'll do whatever I ask." said Natasha.
"I'll do whatever you want. But please don't call the police" begged Neeharika.
"I have been divorced for about an year now. I can understand what you are going through. The only difference is that I stood up against my husband and have a better life today. But most of my time is spend here at the store and there is no one to take care of Jay. How about you take care of Jay while I am not at home and I'll give you a salary for that. You and your son can move in with us."
"You mean a nanny? Are you serious?" asked Neeharika excited.
"Of course. As it is christmas is around and you'll need a better place and money. Later as the work load reduces and when i"ll be able to give time to my son, we'll help you find a better job?" offered Natasha.
"I'll take the job. Thank you. Thank you so much. You have no idea what it means to me." said Neeharika, crying and smiling at the same time.
"Now stop crying and rush back to your place. Pack all your things, I'll send the driver in an hour to pick you and your son." said Natasha smiling.
Neeharika ran towards a new life, a new beginning.
All seemed well now and finally it was a happy christmas now.
Copyright © 2011 PRO WRITERS
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