Page 49 of Healing Hearts at the Christmas Inn
The foyer snapped back to its present state. Still beautiful, still elegant, but quieter now. Empty except for her. The antiques remained in their places, but Holly saw them differently now. Not as furniture, but as witnesses. Each piece had been there, had seen those glory days, had been part of that thriving, joyful chaos.
She moved deeper into the foyer, her footsteps silent on the polished floor. Her fingers trailed along the marble-topped console table. It was one of the pieces she'd restored for Julie Jane years ago. She remembered it now. The water damage to the finish, the careful work to match the original patina, the satisfaction of bringing it back to life.
Holly thought about all the pieces she'd received from Julie Jane over the years. The sideboard with its intricate inlay. The dining chairs with their delicate carvings. The oil paintings of seascapes and family portraits. Each one had called to her in a way shecouldn't quite explain, pulling at something deep in her chest that had nothing to do with professional interest.
Now she understood why. They were introducing themselves to her like breadcrumbs leading her here.
In that moment, Holly knew it was no coincidence that she had found the brochure for the Christmas Inn. Right at a moment when she, Trinity, and even Charlie needed it. They were being led here.
This is where they were all meant to be this festive season. This magical historical inn had drawn them here.
15
JACK
The shower had done nothing to settle Jack's mind.
He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, water still beading on his shoulders, and dragged the towel through his hair one more time before hanging it on the rack. His reflection stared back at him, looking more awake than he felt. The run with Holly had been good. The conversation afterward had been better. But now his brain wouldn't stop turning over everything she'd said, everything he'd told her, the offer she'd made that he still couldn't quite believe was real.
Professional help. Free professional help. For the antiques, his family had been neglecting out of sheer financial necessity.
Jack pulled on jeans and a faded work shirt, the fabric soft from years of washing. He laced up his boots and ran his fingers through his still-damp hair, giving up on making it look presentable. It would dry however it wanted to, just as always.
His mind kept drifting back to Holly. The way she'd looked at him when he'd confessed the truth about the inn. Not with pity, but with understanding. With determination. Like his problemswere suddenly her problems too, and she was already planning how to fix them.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He needed coffee. Food. Something to ground him before his brain spun itself into knots over a woman he'd known for three days.
Three days. That's all it had been. How was that possible?
Jack made his way through the family house, past his mother's closed bedroom door and Jane's room at the end of the hall. Both were still quiet. Julie had never been an early riser, and Jane kept odd hours these days, working on inn projects until late and sleeping whenever exhaustion finally dragged her under.
He pushed through the connecting door into the inn proper, stepping into the hallway that led past the front desk toward the dining room. The smell of coffee hit him first, rich and dark, followed by the scent of something sweet baking. Isabella must already be in the kitchen, working her usual morning magic.
But Jack's attention caught on something else.
The office door. Slightly ajar, a wedge of lamplight spilling into the dim hallway.
He stopped, frowning. He'd closed that door last night. He was certain of it. He always closed it, locked it even, especially with that envelope sitting in his desk drawer like a ticking bomb.
His pulse kicked up a notch. Jack glanced around the empty hallway, then approached the door cautiously. If someone had gotten in, if they'd found the foreclosure notice...
Jack pushed the door open wider and stopped short.
Logan sat at Jack's desk, the thick manila envelope spread open in front of him, the foreclosure documents arranged in neat stacks across the surface. He looked up when Jack entered, completely unapologetic, his reading glasses perched on his nose.
"Morning," Logan said, as casual as if he'd been caught reading the newspaper instead of rifling through private legal documents.
"Morning." Jack closed the door behind him and leaned against it, crossing his arms. "Breaking and entering now? Should I be worried?"
"You gave me a key to the house years ago." Logan pulled off his glasses and set them on the desk. "And I took the liberty of adding the office key to it. Although the office door wasn't locked."
Jack's jaw tightened. "I could have sworn I locked it."
"You didn't." Logan's tone was matter-of-fact. "I checked at six this morning when I couldn't sleep and came through to take a more thorough look at the documents." He gestured to the documents. "Have you told Julie or Jane yet?"
"No." Jack moved into the room, sinking into the chair across from his own desk. "I don't know how."
Logan was quiet for a moment, his gaze moving back to the papers as Jack leaned forward with his elbows on his desk. "Have you found anything we can use?" Jack asked, hearing the exhaustion in his own voice. "Anything at all?"
