Chapter 7 Charlie #2
Before he could say any more, Charlie broke through their conversation as she turned back to Julie, clearing her throat, desperate for a distraction. "Sorry. Uh. Julie?"
"Oh goodness, where are my manners?" Julie's smile was bright, almost too bright, and Charlie had the distinct impression that the woman was enjoying this far too much. "I'm Julie Christmas. Welcome to my inn."
Charlie's eyebrows shot up. "Christmas? That's really your name?"
Julie laughed, a light, musical sound. "Really and truly. It's my late husband’s family name."
“Julie’s family name is Tincell,” Logan pointed out.
“You’re joking!” Charlie said in amazement, her eyes flying questioningly to Julie.
“I’m afraid not,” Julie laughed.
Before Charlie could respond, a voice called from somewhere deeper in the inn.
"Aunt Charlie!"
Charlie turned just in time to see Trinity burst through a doorway, her face glowing with excitement. The girl threw her arms around Charlie's waist, nearly knocking her off balance.
"Hey, Trin." Charlie hugged her back, relief flooding through her. "Is your gran down here with you?"
"Yeah, we're in the dining room." Trinity pulled back, her eyes bright. "Come have dinner! The food is amazing."
Charlie's stomach gave a loud, insistent growl, and she laughed. "I will. Let me just get my key and take my bag up."
"I can do that for you," Logan said from behind her.
Charlie turned to find him stepping out from behind the desk and reaching for her suitcase before she could stop him.
"Oh, would you, sweetheart?" Julie's voice was warm as she addressed Logan, but that twinkle in her eyes was unmistakable.
Charlie opened her mouth to protest. "No, it's okay. I can do it."
"Please." Logan lifted her bag like it weighed nothing. "It's the least I can do to make up for nearly squashing your luggage."
"Logan!" Julie tutted, though her smile didn't fade. "You weren't on your phone, were you?"
"No." Logan laughed softly. "I was just so excited to finally be back here."
Julie glanced at Charlie, her expression warm and knowing. "Go have something to eat, dear. We'll take care of your luggage."
Charlie hesitated, then nodded. "Thank you."
She followed Trinity through the doorway, but as she walked away, she couldn't shake the image of Logan's face. His smile. The way his hand had felt in hers.
It lingered in her mind, warm and persistent, like a melody she couldn't quite forget.
But as soon as she stepped into the dining room, it took her breath away.
It was massive, with high ceilings and walls painted a soft cream.
Twelve alcoves circled the space, each one decorated for a different month of the year.
January shimmered in silver and crystal.
February glowed with roses and lace. March had pale greens and hints of clover.
The decorations flowed together seamlessly, creating a sense of continuity and celebration that filled the entire room.
At the center, a long oak table ran nearly the full length of the space, its surface polished to a soft gleam. Candles flickered in glass holders, casting warm light across the linen tablecloths and handmade place settings.
And there, at one end of the table, sat Holly.
"Charlie!" Holly stood, her face lighting up, and crossed the room to pull her into a hug. "You made it."
"I did." Charlie hugged her sister tight, feeling some of the tension in her chest ease. "This place is incredible."
"Isn't it?" Holly pulled back, her green eyes bright. "Come sit. Isabella, the incredible chef, just brought out the food, and it smells amazing."
Charlie followed her to the table and sank into a chair. A moment later, a striking woman in her late twenties to early thirties, with long dark hair and an easy smile, set a plate in front of her. Roasted chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and green beans that glistened with butter and herbs.
"Enjoy," the woman said with a wink. "I'm Isabella, the chef. If you need anything, just holler."
Charlie thanked her and picked up her fork. The first bite melted on her tongue, rich and savory, and she closed her eyes with a sigh.
"Good?" Holly asked, smiling.
"Amazing," Charlie purred, not remembering when last she’d had a meal that could pass as home-cooked like this one could.
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the sound of Trinity's chatter filling the space. But as Charlie chewed, that strange feeling from earlier returned.
It was warm and electric, humming just beneath her skin. Like something was shifting. Like the world was rearranging itself in ways she couldn't see but could feel.
Charlie set down her fork and glanced around the room, picking up the glass of white wine that had seemed to magically appear beside her. The lights flickered softly. The candles danced. And somewhere, deep in the heart of the inn, she could have sworn she felt something watching over them.
Something kind. Something hopeful.
She shook her head and picked up her fork again.
It's just exhaustion, she told herself.
But deep down, she wasn't so sure.