Chapter 14 Holly
HOLLY
The sky was still more gray than gold when Holly stepped onto the boardwalk, her running shoes silent against the weathered planks.
The air was cool and damp, carrying the sharp scent of salt and something indefinable that seemed unique to this stretch of coast. She'd slept better than expected, considering how her mind had raced after dinner with Jack the night before.
Coffee. They'd had coffee in the inn's small library after Trinity had gone to bed, Charlie had disappeared to take another work call, and the other guests had retreated to their rooms. It should have been awkward—two strangers making polite conversation—but it hadn't been.
Instead, they'd talked for nearly two hours, planning activities for the families.
What they'd do separately, what they'd do together.
Most of it ended up being together.
The Nights of Lights tour through the historic district.
The Christmas tree lighting ceremony tonight in the plaza.
Carriage rides down cobblestone streets lined with buildings older than the country itself.
A present hunt Jane was apparently planning for the kids.
The annual ice skating rink at Anna Maria Park—temporary but beloved, according to Jack.
A cookie decorating workshop at a local bakery.
Watching the boat parade from the marina.
Holly planted her hands on the boardwalk railing and leaned into a calf stretch, feeling the pull along the back of her leg.
The ocean rolled out before her, restless and dark, the horizon just beginning to lighten.
She switched legs, her mind drifting back to the easy way Jack had smiled when she'd suggested the families do most things together.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Like they'd been planning holidays as a unit for years instead of days.
It should have felt strange. Instead, it felt right.
A blur of brown caught her peripheral vision, and Holly straightened just as Duke came bounding up the boardwalk. The Great Dane skidded to a stop in front of her, tail wagging furiously, and pressed his massive head against her hip in greeting.
Holly laughed, scratching behind his ears. "Good morning to you too, buddy."
"Sorry." Jack's voice carried across the distance, breathless and warm. "He saw you from halfway down the path and took off like a rocket."
Holly looked up to see Jack jogging toward them, his dark hair slightly mussed, wearing the similar running gear he'd had on yesterday. Something in her chest did a small flip, which she firmly ignored.
"I don't mind," Holly said, giving Duke one last pat. "He's excellent company."
Jack reached them, slowing to a walk to catch his breath. "Ready?"
"Ready."
They started off together, Duke loping ahead to investigate whatever caught his attention—a piece of driftwood, a cluster of seaweed, the ghost crabs that skittered across the sand. The rhythm of their footfalls synced almost immediately, comfortable and easy.
For a while, neither of them spoke. Holly let herself settle into the run, feeling her muscles warm, her breathing deepen. The sky continued to lighten, painting everything in shades of rose and amber.
Finally, Holly glanced at Jack. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course." Jack glanced at her curiously.
"Is being an innkeeper what you've always done?" Holly asked him.
Jack's stride didn't falter, but something shifted in his expression. "No. I'm an architect. Or I was." He paused, as if weighing his words. "I had my own firm until about twenty years ago. Then..." He stopped, then pushed forward. "My business was taken from me."
Holly's eyes widened. The words slipped out before she could stop them. "May I ask how?"
Jack was quiet for a moment, the only sound their breathing and the crash of waves. When he spoke again, his voice was careful, measured.
"My ex-wife left when Jane was three. She'd thought marrying into the Christmas family would be prestigious because of the inn, you know, old family, historic property, that sort of thing.
But when I decided to strike out on my own as an architect, she realized it wasn't the glamorous life she'd imagined.
I was struggling, working eighty-hour weeks, barely scraping by.
And motherhood..." He shook his head. "Let's just say it wasn't for her.
She walked out on both of us when Jane was three. "
Holly's chest tightened. "Jack, I'm so sorry."
"Don't be." Jack’s tone lightened slightly. "Jane grew up more grounded and infinitely more loved with my parents than she ever would have with her mother. In retrospect, it was the best thing that could have happened." He glanced at her, his smile wry. "Though it didn't feel that way at the time."
They jogged in silence for a few more strides. Holly wanted to let it go, not to push, but curiosity and something deeper, concern perhaps, made her ask, "So what happened to your business?"
Jack's expression darkened. "It became successful. Very successful, actually. I specialized in restoring historical buildings, like courthouses, libraries, and old homes. Restoring them to their original glory while modernizing them for contemporary use. It was everything I'd dreamed of doing."
"That sounds incredible." Holly was impressed.
"It was. For a while." Jack's jaw tightened.
“ Until my ex-wife remarried. A few months after our divorce was finalized, actually.
To a man I went to school with here in St. Augustine.
Someone who couldn't stand me or Logan. We were always competing in everything, from sports to grades.
He never could beat us at anything, and he hated us.
He was just one of those mean, spiteful kids, you know? "
Holly's stomach sank. She could see where this was going. She nodded. She knew the type well.
“Victor was his name. He’d become very successful at acquiring businesses and then breaking them into pieces.”
“A corporate raider!” Holly added, and Jack nodded.
“He used his connections," Jack continued, his voice flat now.
"And my ex-wife's inside knowledge of my business.
They systematically destroyed my firm. Clients disappeared.
Contracts fell through. Suddenly, I couldn't get permits approved.
Suppliers wouldn't work with me." He exhaled slowly.
"Within two years, I had to close the doors. "
"That's—" Holly struggled for words. "That's awful. How is that even legal?"
"It wasn't always illegal. Just unethical. And the parts that crossed the line?" Jack shrugged. "By the time I could have proven anything, the damage was done. I didn't have the resources to fight them in court."
They'd slowed without Holly realizing it, their jog becoming more of a walk. The sun was fully above the horizon now, bathing everything in golden light.
"Is that when you came home to run the inn?" Holly asked gently.
"No." Jack stopped completely, turning to face the ocean.
"I joined a large architectural firm in Miami.
Corporate work, mostly. Office buildings, hotels, shopping centers.
" His mouth twisted. "Everything I'd specifically avoided when I had my own business.
But it paid well, and Jane needed stability. "
"You gave up what you loved." Holly’s heart ached for him.
"I did what I had to do." Jack looked at her, and there was something raw in his expression. "But it wasn't what I wanted. I'd made my name restoring historical buildings, not tearing them down to build modern eyesores. Every project felt like a betrayal of everything I'd worked for."
Holly's throat tightened. She understood that feeling. The slow erosion of passion, the compromise that turned into surrender.
"I came home a year ago," Jack continued. "After I retired early. Jane couldn't handle the inn and my mother alone anymore, and I..." He trailed off, then finished quietly. "I needed to come home."
Holly reached out without thinking, her hand finding his arm. "I'm glad you did."
Jack's eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them standing on the beach with the sun rising behind them.
Then Holly cleared her throat and dropped her hand, stepping back slightly. "I understand your love for antiques and historical architecture. More than you might think."
Jack's brow furrowed. "Oh. Do you have a love for them, too?"
"I own a restoration shop in Miami. Holly's Antiques and Restorations. I specialize in restoring old furniture, paintings, and architectural elements. It's what I've done for over twenty years."
Jack's expression shifted, interest lighting his features. "Really? What kind of pieces do you work on?"
"Everything. Furniture from the eighteenth century forward.
Oil paintings. Mirrors. Sometimes larger architectural pieces like mantels, doors, that sort of thing.
" Holly felt herself warming to the topic.
"Each piece tells a story. My job is to preserve that story while making sure the piece can be used and loved for another generation. "
"That's..." Jack shook his head, smiling. "That's exactly how I felt about buildings. Like I was preserving history."
"You were." Holly's voice was firm. "You are."
They started walking again, Duke circling back to check on them before running ahead once more.
"My mother has sent pieces to a restoration shop in Miami for years," Jack said thoughtfully.
A thought hit her, and Holly's pulse quickened. “Do you know which restoration shop? There aren’t many in Miami.”
“No, I’ll have to ask her,” Jack answered.
"I don’t think it would’ve been my shop as I'm sure I would have remembered the name Christmas if we'd gotten any commissions from your family."