Chapter 14 Holly #3
Something in between, cool and purposeful, that made every hair on her arms rise in a slow wave. The morning sounds faded to nothing: the crash of waves, the cry of gulls, the distant hum of early traffic. Complete, absolute silence descended like a curtain falling.
Holly froze mid-step.
The air around her thickened, pressing against her skin with an almost physical weight. Even the breeze stopped. The palm fronds overhead hung motionless, as if the world itself had drawn a breath and forgotten to let it go.
Then, soft as silk against her ear, a voice whispered: "Thank you."
Holly spun, her heart hammering against her ribs. The boardwalk stretched empty in both directions. No joggers. No early morning walkers. No one.
She turned a full circle, scanning the beach, the parking area, and the edge of the inn's property. Nothing moved. No one was there.
The silence pressed deeper, heavier, like the moment before thunder breaks. Holly felt it in her bones—this wasn't natural. This was something else. Something waiting.
"Hello?" Her voice came out thin, swallowed by the stillness.
The world held its breath.
Holly stood frozen in that suspended moment, feeling absurdly like a student called upon in class, expected to give an answer she didn't know. The pressure of unseen eyes, of presence without form, prickled across her shoulders.
She cleared her throat, feeling foolish but unable to shake the certainty that something—someone—was listening.
"You're welcome," she whispered into the silence, feeling a little ridiculous.
For one perfect heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the world exhaled.
The cool presence brushed past her again, more distinct this time, almost like fingers trailing across her shoulders.
A touch of gratitude, of relief, of recognition.
The air warmed. The pressure lifted. And suddenly, all at once, sound rushed back in like a wave breaking: palm fronds rustling in the returning breeze, the ocean's endless conversation with the shore.
The birds once again started chirping overhead.
Holly staggered slightly, gripping the boardwalk railing for balance. Her pulse hammered in her throat. The hair on her arms still stood on end, her skin tingling where that impossible something had touched her.
"What just happened?" The words came out barely above a breath.
She glanced around again, half-expecting to see someone smirking at an elaborate prank. But the morning remained innocently normal. A jogger appeared in the distance. A car pulled into the parking lot. Duke's bark echoed from somewhere near the family house.
Everything was exactly as it should be. As if those suspended seconds had never existed.
Holly forced herself to climb the stairs, each step deliberate, refusing to hurry even as her imagination tried to convince her legs to run. It was nothing. Just her mind playing tricks from all the stress she’d been under lately and her gothically romantic imagination.
"Get your head in the game, Holly," she muttered, climbing the last few steps. "You have a big day and evening ahead of you."
But her hands were still trembling slightly as she pushed through the inn's front door.
The foyer opened before her, and Holly stopped just inside the threshold.
Morning light poured through the tall windows, liquid gold that painted everything in shades of amber and honey.
It caught in the crystals of the chandelier overhead, scattering rainbow fractals across the polished wood floor.
The antique pieces she'd noticed in passing, the marble-topped console table, the gilt-framed mirror, the mahogany sideboard, all seemed to glow in that light, as if lit from within.
And then the world tilted.
Holly blinked, and the foyer transformed.
The space was filled with people, not ghosts, not transparent or faded, but solid and real, laughing.
The inn was alive. Thriving. Every surface gleamed.
Every piece of furniture sat exactly where it was meant to be, loved and used, and part of the fabric of daily joy.
Music drifted from somewhere deeper in the building.
She could even smell the scent of pine and cinnamon and something baking in the kitchen.
Holly could see it all with impossible clarity.
The concierge behind the desk arranging flowers.
The bellhop carrying luggage up the stairs.
A maid adjusting garland on the banister, humming along to the music.
Outside the windows, the parking lot was filled with colorful, gleaming vehicles.
Palm trees swayed under strings of lights that hadn't existed for decades.
This was the inn as it had been. In its glory. In its purpose.
And Holly stood in the middle of it, invisible and silent, witnessing what once was and what she knew it longed to be again.
The vision pulsed with life, with belonging, with the deep bone-certainty that this place mattered. That it held something precious. That it was worth fighting for.
Holly's chest ached with the beauty of it.
And then, as suddenly as it had come, the vision dissolved.
The foyer snapped back to its present state.
Still beautiful, still elegant, but quieter now.
Empty except for her. The antiques remained in their places, but Holly saw them differently now.
Not as furniture, but as witnesses. Each piece had been there, had seen those glory days, had been part of that thriving, joyful chaos.
She moved deeper into the foyer, her footsteps silent on the polished floor.
Her fingers trailed along the marble-topped console table.
It was one of the pieces she'd restored for Julie Jane years ago.
She remembered it now. The water damage to the finish, the careful work to match the original patina, the satisfaction of bringing it back to life.
Holly thought about all the pieces she'd received from Julie Jane over the years.
The sideboard with its intricate inlay. The dining chairs with their delicate carvings.
The oil paintings of seascapes and family portraits.
Each one had called to her in a way she couldn't quite explain, pulling at something deep in her chest that had nothing to do with professional interest.
Now she understood why. They were introducing themselves to her like breadcrumbs leading her here.
In that moment, Holly knew it was no coincidence that she had found the brochure for the Christmas Inn. Right at a moment when she, Trinity, and even Charlie needed it. They were being led here.
This is where they were all meant to be this festive season. This magical historical inn had drawn them here.