Page 10 of Healing Hearts at the Christmas Inn
“Their last name is Christmas?” Trinity was intrigued.
“It seems so.” Holly laughed at the look on Trinity’s face. “They do special traditions during the holidays. Carriage rides through the historic district, carol services by candlelight, something called the Wish Light Ceremony."
"What's that?" Trinity's voice held wonder.
Holly scanned the brochure description. "It says guests light special lanterns at sunset and make wishes. The lanterns stay lit in the garden until midnight." She looked up at her granddaughter. "They have horse-drawn carriage tours through the old city, too. St. Augustine is the oldest city in America, you know. Founded in 1565. And Anastasia Island is just across this beautiful bridge. The inn sits right on the beach, so we could walk on the sand every morning, collect shells, and watch the sunrise."
Trinity's whole body went still, her eyes growing wider with each detail. Then she let out a squeal that could probably be heard three houses down and launched herself across the room, chocolate milk mustache and all. She threw her arms around Holly's neck with enough force to nearly knock them both backward.
"Really? We're actually going?" Trinity pulled back just far enough to look Holly in the eyes, her face glowing brighter than any Christmas light. "For real?"
Holly laughed, the sound coming easier than it had in months. She tucked a strand of hair behind Trinity's ear. "For real. Three whole weeks."
"Can we go swimming? Even in December?" Trinity bounced on her toes, barely able to contain herself. "And collect shells? Oh! Can we see the lighthouse? I read about it in my history book. It's supposed to be one of the oldest in the country, and you can climb all the way to the top and see forever." She grabbed the brochure and studied it with intense focus. "Look, Gran! They have a restaurant called the Twelve Months of Christmas. How cool is that? It states that the entire downtown area is lined with shops and cafes, and everything is beautifully decorated. Can we go on one of the carriage rides? Please?"
"We can do all of that." Holly's chest felt warm, watching her granddaughter's excitement chase away the shadows that had been lingering in her eyes for months. "Anything you want."
Trinity hugged the brochure to her chest as if it were something precious. "This is going to be the best Christmas ever. Way better than staying here." She paused, biting her lip. "Is that okay to say? I mean, I know Daddy can't come home, but..."
"It's more than okay." Holly pulled her close again. "Your dad would want us to have a wonderful Christmas. And we will. You, me, Aunt Charlie, and the ocean."
Holly hoped she was right.
After Trinity ran off to start planning what to pack, Holly sat back down at the desk. The brochure lay open in front of her, the photo of the inn gleaming in the late afternoon light.
Outside, a light rain began to fall, pattering softly against the window. A beam of sun broke through the clouds, cutting through the raindrops and landing directly on the brochure. The inn's photo seemed to glow, warm and inviting, like a beacon calling her home.
Holly's gaze drifted to the bottom of the page, where a tiny line of text caught her eye.
Owned and operated by the Christmas Family since 1899.
The Christmas Family.
A shiver ran down her spine. Not of fear, but of something else. Anticipation. Excitement. A strange, inexplicable certainty that this trip was more than just an escape.
"Maybe this Christmas can be different," she whispered into the quiet.
And for the first time in months, she believed it.
Holly's eyes remained fixed on that tiny line of text, her pulse quickening as the rain drummed a soft rhythm against the glass.
The Christmas Family.
She didn't know why it mattered. Didn't know why those three words sent a thrill of something electric through her chest.
But deep down, in a place she didn't quite understand, Holly had the strangest feeling.
This holiday was about to change her life forever.
4
JACK
The voice on the other end of the line was polite. Professional. And absolutely unmovable.
Jack Christmas stood by the window of his office, phone pressed to his ear, watching the Atlantic stretch out in shades of gray and silver beneath a late November sky. The waves rolled in with their usual restless rhythm, crashing against the shore in a sound that had been the backdrop of his entire life. Construction noise drifted from somewhere on the north side of the inn. The steady thump of hammers and the whine of a saw cutting through wood. Logan's crew, working on the guest room renovations that were supposed to save them.
If they could just hold on long enough.
