Page 14 of Healing Hearts at the Christmas Inn
Trinity pressed both hands against the window, her face illuminated by the glow. "It's like a fairytale."
Holly slowed the car, taking it all in. The historic district stretched before them, its narrow streets lined with centuries-old buildings that seemed to glow from within. The Bridge ofLions loomed ahead, its twin marble lions standing guard at either end, their forms outlined in cascading lights that reflected off the water below. The bay sparkled beneath them, the surface rippling with a thousand golden reflections.
Carriages moved slowly through the streets, their horses adorned with wreaths and bells that jingled softly in the evening air. Tourists strolled along the sidewalks, bundled in light jackets against the December chill, their faces upturned in wonder. Every shop window was decorated, every lamppost wrapped in garland and ribbon. Even the ancient coquina walls of the old fort in the distance seemed to shimmer, bathed in the warm glow of floodlights.
"This is amazing," Trinity breathed. "Can we come back and walk around? Please?"
Holly smiled, feeling something loosen in her chest. "Of course. We have three whole weeks."
They crossed the Bridge of Lions, the tires humming against the pavement. Below them, the Matanzas Bay stretched wide and dark, dotted with boats whose masts were strung with lights. On the far side of the bridge, the landscape shifted again. The buildings grew sparser, replaced by stretches of dunes and sea grass that swayed in the ocean breeze.
Anastasia Island.
The road curved along the shoreline, and Holly could see the Atlantic beyond the dunes, its surface dark and restless under the fading light. The GPS guided them down a side road lined with weathered beach cottages and pastel-colored houses, their porches wrapped in fairy lights and garland.
And then, ahead of them, the Christmas Inn came into view.
Holly eased off the gas, her heart skipping a beat.
The inn was even more beautiful than the brochure had promised. It sat perched on the edge of the shore, a sprawling white structure with wraparound porches and balconies that faced the ocean. Every railing, every column, every window was wrapped in strings of golden lights that glowed against the twilight. Palm trees flanked the entrance, their trunks spiraled with more lights, and the sandy pathway leading up to the front door was lined with luminarias that flickered softly in the breeze.
The ocean was right there, just beyond the inn's back garden, its waves crashing rhythmically against the shore. The sound of it filled the air, a constant, soothing presence that seemed to wrap around the entire property.
"Wow," Trinity whispered. "Gran, it's perfect."
Holly pulled into the small parking area beside the inn, her hands trembling slightly as she cut the engine. For a moment, she just sat there, staring at the building through the windshield. It looked like something out of a dream. A place where time moved slower, where worries melted away under the glow of a million tiny lights.
"I wish Aunt Charlie could've come with us," Trinity said, unbuckling her seatbelt.
Holly nodded, reaching over to squeeze her granddaughter's hand. "I know, sweetheart. But she's not far behind us. She should be here in an hour or two."
Charlie had been held up at work due to a last-minute client emergency that couldn't be rescheduled. She'd insisted Holly and Trinity go ahead without her, promising to catch up as soon as she could.
Trinity practically bounced out of the car, her excitement bubbling over. Holly followed more slowly, stepping out into the cool evening air. The scent of salt and pine wrapped around her, and she took a deep breath, letting it fill her lungs.
She moved to the trunk and popped it open, reaching for their bags. Behind her, she heard the crunch of tires on gravel. A moment later, a silver pickup truck pulled into the spot beside hers.
Holly was elbow-deep in the trunk, wrestling with Trinity's oversized duffel bag, when a voice spoke behind her.
"Need a hand with that?"
The voice was deep, warm, with a hint of amusement threading through it.
Holly straightened and turned, her hand instinctively reaching for Trinity's shoulder to pull her closer.
The man standing behind her was tall. Very tall. At least six foot four, with broad shoulders and a build that spoke of years spent doing physical work. His dark hair was slightly tousled by the ocean breeze, and his eyes were a striking shade of blue that seemed to catch the glow of the inn's lights. He wore jeans and a faded Henley shirt, the sleeves pushed up to reveal strong forearms dusted with dark hair.
And when he saw Holly step protectively closer to Trinity, his face split into a smile that was somehow both heart-stopping and disarming all at once.
"Sorry," he said, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "Didn't mean to startle you. I'm Jack. Jack Christmas."
Holly blinked, her brain catching up with her racing pulse. "Christmas?"
"I know." His smile widened, and there was a warmth in it that made something flutter in her chest. "It's a real name, I promise. My family owns the inn."
"Oh." Holly felt her shoulders relax slightly. And of course, she knew that. She’d read the brochure and looked up the history of the Christmas family. She offered him a small smile in return. "I'm Holly Bennett. This is my granddaughter, Trinity."
Trinity waved, her earlier shyness melting away in the face of Jack's easy demeanor. "Hi."
