Chapter 11 Charlie
CHARLIE
The morning sun was already warm by the time Charlie, Holly, and Trinity piled into Charlie's car after breakfast. Charlie slid behind the wheel of the vehicle, adjusting the mirrors while Holly settled into the passenger seat and Trinity bounced in the back like she'd had three cups of coffee instead of orange juice.
"Can we do everything?" Trinity leaned forward between the front seats, her eyes bright. "The ornament workshop and the gingerbread competition and whatever else we find?"
Holly laughed, reaching back to squeeze her granddaughter's hand. "We'll do as much as we can fit in. That's the whole point of today. Exploring Anastasia Island."
Charlie pulled out of the inn's parking lot and onto the main road that wound through Anastasia Island.
The morning was beautiful, the kind of December day that made Florida feel like a different planet compared to the rest of the country.
Sixties and sunny, with a breeze off the ocean that carried the scent of salt and something green and alive.
She'd slept better than she had in months. Maybe it was the ocean air, or the comfortable bed, or just the fact that she'd finally disconnected from work. Her phone sat in her purse, silenced, and she'd only checked her email once this morning. A personal record.
"There's supposed to be a community center near the beach," Holly said, consulting the brochure Jane had given them at breakfast. "They're doing holiday workshops all week. Ornament making starts at ten."
"Perfect." Charlie glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Nine forty-five. "We've got time to find parking and maybe grab coffee."
Trinity made a face. "Coffee is gross."
"More for us then," Charlie said, catching her niece's eye in the rearview mirror and winking.
They drove through the island slowly, taking in the sights.
Small beach cottages, painted in cheerful pastels, lined the streets, their porches decorated with wreaths and garlands.
Local shops advertised holiday sales in their windows.
Even in daylight, strings of lights were visible everywhere, wrapped around palm trees and strung between lampposts, waiting for evening to bring them to life.
Charlie found herself relaxing in a way she rarely did. Her shoulders dropped from where they'd been permanently hunched near her ears. Her jaw unclenched. Even her hands on the steering wheel felt looser, less like she was gripping a life preserver and more like she was just... driving.
When was the last time she'd felt like this? Not just relaxed, but present. Not thinking about cases or clients or the mountain of work waiting back in Miami. Just here, in this moment, with her sister and niece, heading toward a day of Christmas crafts and whatever else they stumbled into.
"Turn left here," Holly said, pointing. "I think I see the community center."
Charlie followed her direction and pulled into a parking lot that was already half full.
The community center was a low, sprawling building painted pale yellow with white trim.
Banners hung across the entrance announcing the holiday workshop schedule, and through the windows Charlie could see tables already set up with craft supplies.
They climbed out of the car, and Trinity practically skipped toward the entrance. Holly caught Charlie's arm, holding her back for just a moment.
"Thank you for coming," Holly said quietly. "I know you had to clear your calendar."
Charlie squeezed her sister's hand. "Where else would I be?"
Holly's eyes shimmered, but she blinked it away and smiled. "Come on. Let's go make some ornaments."
The inside of the community center smelled like pine and cinnamon, with undertones of coffee and something baking.
Long tables filled the main room, each covered with supplies.
Wooden ornament blanks, paint in every color imaginable, brushes, glitter, ribbons, stencils.
A few families were already seated, and a cheerful woman with gray hair pulled back in a bun stood at the front, directing people to open spots.
"Welcome, welcome!" The woman beamed at them. "First time at our workshop?"
"First time on the island," Trinity said, her eyes wide as she took in all the supplies.
"Oh, how wonderful! Well, you've picked a great time to visit. We've got activities planned through Christmas Eve." She gestured toward an empty table. "Go ahead and settle in anywhere you like. We'll get started in about ten minutes."
They claimed a table near the window, and Charlie found herself genuinely excited as she surveyed the supplies.
When was the last time she'd done something creative?
Law school, maybe. Before that. She'd taken an art class in college, painting and sculpture, and loved it.
But there'd been no time for hobbies once she'd started at the firm.
"What are you going to make?" Trinity asked, already sorting through the wooden shapes.
"I have no idea," Charlie admitted. "What about you?"
"Something for Dad." Trinity's voice was quiet, but determined. "So he knows I'm thinking about him."
Charlie's throat tightened. She reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind Trinity's ear. "He's going to love whatever you make."
Holly had gone quiet on Trinity’s other side, her hands hovering over the supplies but not quite touching them. Charlie knew that look. Her sister was thinking about Gabe, about how long it had been since she'd seen her son, about the empty chair at every holiday gathering.
"Hey," Charlie said softly. "He's okay. And he'll be home eventually."
"I know." Holly picked up a star-shaped blank decoration and turned it over in her hands. "I just wish it were sooner."
The workshop leader clapped her hands, drawing everyone's attention, and launched into instructions.
Charlie let herself get swept up in it, the simple pleasure of choosing colors and deciding on designs.
She picked a round ornament and started painting it deep blue, adding silver stars in a pattern that reminded her of the night sky over the island.
Beside her, Trinity worked with intense concentration, her tongue poking out slightly as she painted careful strokes across her wooden snowflake. Holly had chosen a bell shape and was painting it soft gold, her movements slow and meditative.
At the table next to them, an older woman leaned over. "Is this your First time visiting the Christmas Inn?"
Charlie looked up, surprised. "How did you know?"
The woman smiled. "Jane mentioned this morning that they had new guests when my husband and I went there for breakfast. Word travels fast on the island." She held out a paint-covered hand, then thought better of it and laughed. "I'm Martha. I've lived here forty years."
"Charlie Burke." Charlie gestured to her sister and niece. "This is Holly and Trinity."
"Lovely to meet you." Martha's eyes were kind, curious in the way of small-town residents who genuinely cared about newcomers rather than just being nosy. "How are you enjoying the inn?"
"It's beautiful," Holly said, and there was genuine warmth in her voice. "We only arrived last night, but already it feels special."
Martha's expression grew wistful. "It is special.
Or it was. That place used to be the heart of the island's Christmas celebrations.
" She returned to painting her ornament, a delicate angel.
"Every holiday, really. Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's Day, Easter, Fourth of July, Halloween, Thanksgiving.
The Christmas family hosted something for all of them. "
Charlie exchanged a glance with Holly. "Used to be?"
"Oh, they still do lovely work," Martha said quickly.
"Isabella's restaurant there is phenomenal.
Best food on the island, hands down. But the big events.
.." She shook her head. "Those stopped when James Christmas passed.
Such a shame. He was a wonderful man. Had this energy about him, you know?
Like he could make magic happen just by believing in it hard enough. "
Trinity had stopped painting, listening intently. "What kind of events?"
Martha's face lit up. "Oh, sweetheart, they were spectacular.
The Winter Ball was the biggest. Black tie, live orchestra, dancing until midnight.
People came from all over Florida. And the Easter egg hunt covered the entire property, hundreds of eggs hidden everywhere.
Halloween had costume contests in the great ballroom with prizes for all ages.
Valentine's Day was a dinner dance that sold out months in advance.
" She sighed. "James Christmas knew how to celebrate life. "
"What happened?" Holly asked gently. "After he passed?"
"The heart went out of the place, I suppose.
" Martha dipped her brush in white paint, adding details to the angel's wings.
"His wife Julie tried to keep things going for a while, but it wasn't the same without him.
And then Jack had his troubles with his business, and Jane.
.." She trailed off, something sad crossing her face.
"Well, life has a way of knocking us down sometimes.
The inn's still standing, still beautiful, but it's like the soul of it went quiet. "
Charlie felt something tighten in her chest. She thought about the inn as they'd seen it last night, glowing with lights and warmth.
But she remembered what else she'd noticed too.
The careful patches, the clever disguises for worn spots, the lack of guests despite all those beautiful rooms. The bustling restaurant, but otherwise quiet halls.
"Do they still do any of the holiday events?" Trinity asked, her voice small.