Chapter 9 Holly #2
"Speaking of things to see, the Nights of Lights is one of Jane's favorite traditions, or at least it used to be," Jack said after a moment.
"When she was little, we'd drive through the historic district every night in December.
She'd press her face against the window, counting all the different displays.
" His voice held the warmth of memory mixed with something sadder.
"She hasn't wanted to go the past couple of years, but maybe this year will be different. "
"We definitely want to see it," Holly said, her heart squeezing at the image of a younger, happier Jane, and wondered what had happened that put that haunting sadness in the beautiful young woman’s eyes. But it wasn’t her place to ask or pry.
"Trinity talked about nothing else after we drove through last night. "
Jack's face brightened. "There's so much happening this season. The tree lighting ceremony downtown is this weekend. Then there's the parade of boats in the harbor next week, and the holiday market in the plaza runs every evening through Christmas Eve."
"There's so much to do," Holly said, feeling a little overwhelmed. "I don't even know where to start."
"I can help with that." Jack's voice was casual, but there was something hopeful beneath it. "If you want, I mean. Put together some suggestions. My family usually participates in a lot of the festivities. Maybe you, Trinity, and your sister could join us for some of them."
Holly's first instinct was to refuse, to maintain the boundaries between guest and host. But the thought of navigating everything alone, of trying to create magic for Trinity while carrying her own heartbreak, felt suddenly exhausting.
"I don't want to impose," she said carefully.
"You wouldn't be." Jack glanced at her, his expression genuine. "Trust me. My mother would love it. And Jane could use the company. She's been so isolated since..." He trailed off, and Holly heard the weight of unspoken grief in that silence. "Anyway, it would be nice. For all of us."
They were approaching the inn now, its white walls glowing in the morning sun. Holly could see the strings of lights that would sparkle come evening, the palm trees wrapped in their golden spirals, and the boardwalk leading up from the beach.
"Okay," she heard herself say. "Yes. That would be wonderful."
Jack's face lit up in a way that made Holly's heart skip a beat. "Great. I'll put something together. Maybe we can talk about it over coffee sometime this afternoon?"
"I'd like that." Holly couldn’t stop the lurch of her heart at the thought of having coffee with him, alone later.
They reached the bottom of the boardwalk steps, both slightly breathless. Duke flopped down in the sand, panting happily.
"So," Jack said, and there was something almost shy in his expression now. "How about the same time tomorrow? For the run, I mean. If you want to and don’t mind the company."
Holly knew she should say no. Maintain some distance and a sense of self-preservation. She was here to heal, to give Trinity a good Christmas, not to get tangled up with a handsome innkeeper who made her stomach flutter like a teenager.
But the word that came out was: "Yes. I'd like that."
Jack's smile could have rivaled the sunrise. "Good. I'll try to keep Duke from ambushing you this time."
"Don't." Holly reached down to scratch the dog's head. "I liked meeting him."
Their eyes met again, and Holly felt that flutter intensify. Jack opened his mouth like he wanted to say something more, then seemed to think better of it.
"I'll see you later this afternoon, Holly Bennett."
"Yes, until then, Jack Christmas." Holly grinned.
He turned and jogged around the boardwalk and toward the side of the inn, Duke bounding alongside him.
Holly watched them go, her hand pressed to her chest where her heart was doing acrobatics.
As Jack disappeared around the corner, she tilted her head and noticed a house perched there, joined to the inn with what must be a small hallway connecting the two structures.
What am I doing?
She shook her head and climbed the boardwalk steps, her legs pleasantly tired from the run.
But as she reached the deck and turned to look back at the beach, she paused, breathing in the sea air and the early morning.
When Holly turned back, she stopped to take in the scene before her.
The inn stood magnificent in the morning light.
Holly's gaze traveled over the building with the practiced eye of someone who'd spent twenty years restoring antiques and old structures.
During the night, in the glow of the Christmas lights, the inn had looked magical.
Perfect. But now, in the honest light of day, she could see what lay beneath the magic.
The paint was peeling in places, the damage carefully disguised with strategic placement of garlands and wreaths.
The trim around some of the windows was weathered, the wood starting to rot.
The balcony railings were sturdy but worn, and she could see where repairs had been made with mismatched materials.
Even the boardwalk beneath her feet had loose planks that someone had tried to secure with newer nails.
Everything was clean and polished, the shabbiness artfully concealed. But Holly's trained eye saw through the illusions.
The inn needed help. Serious help. The kind that requires time, money, and expertise.
But even recognizing all of that, even seeing the cracks in the facade, Holly couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful it was.
The bones of the building were magnificent.
Historic. Well-crafted with the kind of attention to detail you didn't find anymore.
Whoever had built this place had loved it, had poured their heart into every beam and board.
And someone still loved it. That much was obvious in the careful patches, the strategic decorating, the way every surface gleamed despite the wear.
Holly's fingers itched with the familiar urge to restore, to bring back the glory she could see hiding beneath the years.
She imagined what the inn could be with proper care.
The trim repainted in crisp white, the railings sanded and refinished, the windows resealed and gleaming.
She thought about the antiques she'd glimpsed inside, the paintings and furniture that had clearly been lovingly maintained but could use professional attention.
This place could be spectacular again. It wanted to be. She could feel it, just as she always did, the potential in broken things.
The front door opened, and Holly turned to see an elderly couple emerging onto the deck. They smiled at her, wished her good morning, and wandered down toward the beach hand in hand.
Holly watched them go, then looked back at the inn one more time.
The sun had fully risen now, bathing everything in golden light. The Christmas decorations sparkled even without being lit. The palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze. And somewhere inside, Trinity was probably just waking up, eager to start exploring their temporary home.
Holly pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heart still racing from more than just the run. She thought about Jack's words. This trip was meant to be. The inn bringing people exactly when they needed to be here.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe she was exactly where she needed to be. Not just to give Trinity a magical Christmas. Not just to escape the hollow ache that had followed her from Miami.
But to find something she hadn't even known she was looking for.
Holly took one last look at where Jack and Duke had retreated before she turned and headed inside, her mind already spinning with possibilities she had no business entertaining.
The inn glowed around her, beautiful despite its wear, waiting for someone to see its potential.
And Holly, for the first time in six months, felt a spark of something that might have been hope.