Chapter 14 Holly #2
Jack's smile turned knowing. "My gran seldom uses our last name when she's dealing with vendors or contractors. The Christmas surname tends to bring up conversations that she tries to avoid. She uses her first and middle names instead. Julie Jane."
Holly stopped walking. "Your mother is Julie Jane?"
"Yes, why? Have you heard of her?"
"Heard of her? It’s my shop she’s been sending pieces to.
" Holly's voice rose with excitement. "I've restored dozens of pieces for Julie Jane over the years!
An 1890s sideboard with the most incredible inlay work.
A set of dining chairs from the twenties.
Several oil paintings. A few landscapes, mostly, and a few portraits.
An antique mirror with an ornate gilded frame.
" She was talking faster now, the memories flooding back.
"Every piece came with the most detailed care notes.
You could tell she loved these things, that they meant something to her. "
Jack's expression had softened, pride mixing with something that looked like relief. "That sounds like my mother. She's always been obsessive about preserving the inn's history. Every piece of furniture has a story."
"I always wondered about her," Holly admitted. "About the woman who sent such beautiful things and cared for them so deeply." She paused, then frowned slightly. "But I haven't received anything from Julie for a few years now. I wondered what happened. If she'd moved, or found another shop, or..."
She trailed off, seeing Jack's expression change. The openness closed slightly, replaced by something heavier.
Jack started walking again, but slower now, his gaze fixed on the horizon. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "I probably shouldn't say this. You'll grab your family and head for the hills."
"Why on earth would we do that?" Holly harrumphed. “We may have just arrived, but we already love the place.”
"You might not after what I’m about to tell you.
” Jack’s voice grew serious. “The inn has been slowly falling into disrepair since my father died.
" The words came out flat, factual, but Holly could hear the pain beneath them.
"My mother tried to keep everything going.
She threw everything she had into it. Then Jane came home and tried.
Now I'm here, and we're all trying, but.
.." He stopped walking, turning to face the ocean fully.
"We've had to make choices. Fix a leaking roof or restore antique furniture.
Replace rotting floorboards or send paintings for cleaning.
Keep the lights on or preserve the past."
Holly's heart clenched. "So your mother stopped sending pieces because—"
"Because we couldn't afford it anymore." Jack's shoulders sagged slightly. "The restoration work, the materials, the shipping—it all adds up. And when you're choosing between that and keeping the inn from literally falling apart..." He sighed, long and heavy. "I fear it might be too late."
The words hung in the air between them, weighted with exhaustion and something that looked dangerously close to defeat.
Holly found herself moving closer, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. "Too late for what?"
"To save it." Jack's voice was barely above a whisper.
"The renovations are expensive. Bookings are down. Well, as you might have seen, besides your family, there are only two other guests.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“We're doing everything we can. Even my friend Logan came down to help with a bit of restoration.
Jane's running herself ragged, and my mother is trying to hold everything together with sheer force of will.” His jaw clenched.
“But it feels like we're trying to bail out a sinking ship with a teaspoon. "
He wasn't looking at her anymore, his gaze fixed on some distant point on the horizon. Holly could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands had curled into fists at his sides.
"Every day, something else breaks," Jack continued.
"Yesterday, it was the walk-in freezer. Last week, a pipe burst in one of the bathrooms on the third floor.
The month before that, we had to replace the hot water heater.
It's always something, and we're always scrambling to cover it.
" He laughed, but there was no humor in it.
"You want to know why the inn looks so good despite everything?
Because Jane is a magician with touch-up paint and strategic garland placement.
Because my mother knows exactly which tablecloths hide which stains.
Because we've all gotten very, very good at making do. "
Holly's throat was tight. She thought about the careful patches she'd noticed, the worn spots cleverly disguised. The love and desperation woven into every decorating choice.
Before she could respond, her phone alarm chirped from the pocket of her running jacket. She pulled it out and silenced it. It was just a reminder that Trinity would be waking soon, that they had plans for the day.
Jack seemed to shake himself, stepping back slightly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dumped all that on you. You came here for a vacation, not to hear about our problems."
"Don't apologize." Holly's voice was firm. "I'm glad you told me."
Jack met her eyes, searching for something. "You're not packing up and leaving?"
"Are you kidding?" Holly found herself smiling despite the heaviness of the conversation. "And miss out on all those activities we planned last night? Trinity would never forgive me."
Jack's expression softened, a ghost of his usual smile returning. "Good. That's good."
They stood there for a moment, the morning sun warm on their faces, Duke panting happily at their feet.
"Maybe I can help," Holly said quietly.
Jack's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"The antiques. The furniture, the paintings, the architectural pieces.
" Holly's mind was already racing, cataloging everything she'd seen since arriving.
"I could look at them. Assess what needs immediate attention, what can wait, and what just needs basic maintenance.
Some things might not need full restoration.
Just cleaning or minor repairs that I could walk you through. "
Jack started to shake his head. "Holly, I can't ask you to—"
"You're not asking. I'm offering." She took a breath. "And I wouldn't charge you. Consider it a working vacation. I get to do what I love, and you get professional help without the professional price tag."
"Absolutely not." Jack's voice was firm. "I can't let you work for free. That's not fair to you."
"Fair?" Holly raised an eyebrow. "You're letting us stay in your beautiful inn, you're planning activities with us, you're making my granddaughter happier than I've seen her in months. I think fair went out the window somewhere around day one."
"That's different. You're paying guests," Jack pointed out.
Holly could see embarrassment flash in his eyes and knew how hard it had been to admit to her what he had.
"And I'm a restoration expert who happens to be staying at an inn full of antiques that need attention." Holly crossed her arms. "Trust me, even if we hadn’t had this conversation…” She pursed her lips. “You’d probably have found me at midnight in one of the rooms working on a piece. When I see beautiful things looking like they need a little TLC, I just can’t help myself.” She smiled.
“So either you accept my offer or the guests you do have will think the place is haunted when I start my secret restoration project in the middle of the night.”
She watched him war with himself, pride battling against desperation and something else that looked a lot like relief as he weighed it up in his mind.
“So what’s it going to be, Jack?” Holly pressed. “I do this above board, or do you want your guests to start rumors that the inn’s haunted as guests hear noises in the night and wake up to find their furniture has been restored.”
That made him laugh, and his shoulders dropped slightly as some tension eased. "Are you sure?"
"Completely sure," Holly assured him.
Jack looked at her for a long moment, his expression shifting through a dozen emotions too quickly for Holly to track. When he spoke, his voice was rough. "Thank you. Really. You have no idea what this means."
Holly felt warmth spread through her chest. "I’m glad I can help in some way.”
They stood there as the sun climbed higher, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink.
Something passed between them. It wasn’t that pulse zinging excitement that hit them every time they thought of or were near each other.
This was an understanding, a deepening of the connection that had been forming since that first morning run.
Holly felt it settle into her bones, this awareness of Jack Christmas and all the weight he carried.
Duke barked, breaking the moment, and they both laughed.
"We should head back," Jack said, but he didn't move immediately. Finally, they jogged the last stretch to the boardwalk. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Wouldn't miss it." Holly smiled. "We can start cataloging pieces later this evening if you want. After the tree lighting."
"That would be perfect," Jack accepted her offer, smiling. "Thank you, Holly."
Jack waved, and Duke raced ahead toward the family house. As Holly watched them disappear around the corner, her mind was already working through logistics—what tools she'd need, which pieces to prioritize, how to organize an assessment without disrupting the guests.
She turned toward the boardwalk stairs, placing her foot on the first weathered plank when the world shifted.
Something brushed past her.
Not quite touch, not quite wind.