Chapter 5 Holly
HOLLY
The highway stretched ahead of them, flat and endless, cutting through Florida like a ribbon of asphalt under a sky that was just beginning to soften into evening.
Holly kept her hands steady on the wheel, her eyes on the road, while Trinity sat in the passenger seat with her nose practically pressed against the window.
"How much longer?" Trinity asked for what had to be the tenth time in the last hour.
Holly glanced at the GPS. "Not much longer, honey. We’re almost there."
Trinity bounced in her seat, her excitement barely contained.
She'd been like this since they'd left Miami, chattering nonstop about the beach and the lights and all the things she wanted to do.
Holly had listened, nodding and smiling in all the right places, but her own thoughts had been elsewhere.
Six months. Six months since her world had shattered. Six months since she'd pulled off her wedding ring and driven away from everything she'd thought was real.
The divorce papers were filed. The house was hers. The shop was thriving. She should have felt free.
Instead, she felt hollow.
But maybe that was why she was here. Maybe St. Augustine and the Christmas Inn could fill some of that emptiness, or at least distract her from it long enough to give Trinity the holiday she deserved.
The landscape began to shift as they drew closer to the coast. Palm trees gave way to sprawling oaks draped in Spanish moss, their branches reaching across the road like gnarled fingers.
The air smelled different here, carrying the faint tang of salt and something older, something that spoke of history and time.
"Gran, look!" Trinity pointed ahead, her voice rising with wonder.
Holly's breath caught.
They were entering St. Augustine, and the city was glowing.
The sun had set just minutes before, leaving the sky painted in shades of deep purple and indigo.
And against that twilight canvas, the city sparkled.
Millions of tiny white lights draped from rooftops, wrapped around balconies, and outlined every arch and window of the Spanish colonial buildings that lined the streets.
The lights weren't harsh or garish. They were soft, golden, like stars that had fallen to earth and decided to stay.
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 of Lions 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."
"Hi there." Jack's gaze flicked to the open trunk, then back to Holly. "You're our penthouse guests, right?"
"That's us." Trinity beamed, excitement sparkling in her eyes.
"Well then, welcome to the Christmas Inn." He gestured toward the truck. "May I?"
Holly hesitated for half a second, then stepped aside. "Thank you."
Jack moved past her, reaching into the trunk with practiced ease. He grabbed both of their large suitcases like they weighed nothing, then glanced into the backseat. "I thought there were three of you?"
"My sister's on her way," Holly found herself saying before she could stop herself. The words tumbled out in a rush. "She got held up at work, and we wanted to get on the road."
Jack nodded, balancing the luggage with one hand while he closed the trunk with the other. "No problem. Someone is always around to let you in, no matter what time you arrive."
"Your inn is gorgeous," Trinity said, her voice full of awe as she stared up at the building.
Jack glanced down at her, his smile softening. "Thanks. I like it too.” His eyes caught Holly’s, and that fluttering in her stomach got more intense. “I hope you're hungry, because our chef has cooked up a storm for you."
Trinity's face lit up. "Yeah, I'm starving."
Jack laughed, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to come from deep in his chest. "Well then, let's get you settled so you can have some dinner."
He gestured for them to walk ahead of him, and Holly fell into step beside Trinity.
She was glad to be walking in front of him as it was hard not to stare at the gorgeous man who was going to be their host at the inn for the next three weeks.
There was something about him that was impossible to ignore.
Not just his looks, though he was undeniably handsome in a rugged, effortless kind of way.
It was the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he'd smiled at Trinity like she was the most important person in the world.