Chapter Three
REX
“T his is it. I know it’s not much, but I hope it’s okay for you.” I step aside and let Holly in, watching her as her eyes dart around my small guesthouse. It hasn’t been updated since the early eighties. Faded floral wallpaper lines the living room walls. The kitchen has yellowed, once-white cabinets with a gold trim and painted countertops. Fake garlands line the tops of the cabinets and the fireplace in the living room is still decorated with matching greenery and red stockings. I’d completely forgotten it was still decorated for Christmas.
I lived here when I first bought the shelter and was having the main house renovated. I know it’s not a luxury accommodation or anything Holly was no doubt used to, but it had to beat having nowhere else to sleep.
“It’s—quaint,” she says with a tight-lipped smile as she stands stiffly in the centre of the living room. “And festive.”
“Yeah, can’t really get away from the Christmas spirit around here.” I place her bag on the floor and gesture to the small hallway to my right. “The bedroom and bathroom are down there. There’s a small closet just outside the bathroom door with towels and extra linens. I’m sorry, there isn’t much in the way of food here, but I can bring you whatever you need from the main house. Come up and grab whatever you like, at any time. The door is always unlocked.”
“You leave your front door unlocked? Aren’t you worried about being robbed?” Her eyes open wide.
“In Candy Cane Creek? No.” I laugh as I shake my head. “You’re more likely to have someone walk in and drop off a casserole than take anything from you.”
“Right.” Her voice trails off as we look at each other. There was an energy shift on the ride over. The cab was quiet, but it felt—different. She felt different. I couldn’t explain it any other way than it was as if the fight she had in her had lessened.
“Anyway, I’ll let you get to it.” I make my way to the door. My hand rests on the doorknob, but I hesitate to leave. I turn to find her watching me. “I’m sorry today didn’t go as planned. It’s not the best introduction to our town, but I hope you learn to love it.”
“It’s not your fault,” she says quietly. “Thank you for letting me stay here. You didn’t need to open your home to me, especially after the way I treated you.”
Sadness crosses her face as she looks down at her feet.
“You’ve had a hard day.” I take a moment and look at her. Really look at her. The coffee stain on her cream-coloured coat doesn’t look as bad as it had before. The earthy scent of the coffee mixed with the sugary sweet peppermint lingers in the air. I’ll need to get it to Carl first thing in the morning. I’m not sure how fast he’ll be able to get it back to me, but I might be able to bribe him with a little holiday cheer in the form of a latte and cookies from The Candy Cane Cafe.
What really grabs my attention is how she’s lost the fight she had on the sidewalk. I don’t know why, but I want to find out what made her sad, and who made it so hard for her to accept help and kindness.
“Yeah…” Holly starts as she looks down at her feet before she brings her gaze back up to me. “I’m still sorry. I appreciate what you’ve done for me.”
Silence hangs between us. I can neither move away from her, nor find the right words to say. Tag yips at my side, reminding me how awkward I’m being.
“What’s with the hat, anyway?” Holly asks as she looks down at Tag.
“Oh, that,” I chuckle as I give Tag’s head a pat. “I found it in an old box when we moved in, and he claimed it. Won’t let anyone touch it until Boxing Day.”
“And it just—stays on?” She tilts her head to the side, appraising Tag.
“Yup, even sleeps with it on. He’s almost become the town’s unofficial Christmas mascot at this point.”
“Alright then.” Her eyes linger on Tag for a moment until she brings her gaze up to mine. “You have a very interesting dog.”
“He’s something alright.” I mutter as I look down at the animal in question. I love him, but he’s definitely quirky. The sudden silence and awkwardness between us is almost too much to bear. I shift between my feet, placing my hands in my pockets. “I’ll be back in a little bit with some food to hold you over until the morning.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she protests.
“Please, let me. Oh, and I can take your coat when I come back. I’ll have it cleaned for you right away.”
A small smile graces her lips. One so small I almost miss it. “Alright, thank you.”
I nod and rush out the door. My heart is beating fast, my palms are sweaty.
Was is happening to me?
I rush back to the main house, checking in with Lucy, Fluffy, and Ginger on the way, seeing they still have food and water and are comfortably dozing in the light of the tree. Tag stays at my side as I make my way to my house and head straight for the kitchen, pulling out the makings of a midnight snack.
Or an eight-thirty snack . I correct myself, taking note of the time on the microwave.
I turn the kettle on and rummage through the cupboards. Pulling out the gingerbread and snowman sugar cookies, along with snowflake crackers, I place them on a wooden carrying tray with a mug. Not too bad for not expecting guests.
Reaching over my counter, I pull two candy canes from a vase and place them next to the cookies.
Is this overkill for a woman who hates Christmas? Probably.
Was I going to change it? No.
I have the most inexplicable urge to prove to her that Christmas really is the most wonderful time of the year, even if I don’t know why I’m so determined she knows it.
My electric kettle clicks off and I open the cupboard. My metal coffee tins are thrown in amongst carefully arranged boxes of tea, ranging from caffeinated to herbal. I was told they were for different occasions, or different moods, but they’ve always baffled me. I never drink it, only offer it to guests, but I can’t bear to be without it.
Pulling out the box of Christmas tea, the smell of black tea, oranges, and spices washes over me, stirring up memories I’m not ready to face. Not today with a stranded stranger in my guest house.
Without dwelling on it any longer, I make a cup of tea and an instant coffee for myself. It’s not my ideal coffee, but it works when I don’t want to brew a full pot and judging by the way Holly recoiled at the smell of my Holly Jolly Latte, I’m going to say she wouldn’t appreciate my gingerbread-flavoured java.
Balancing all the items on the tray with the addition of milk and sugar, I head to the door with Tag at my heels. I shiver as I shut the door behind me and make the small walk from the main house back to the guesthouse.
The door opens before I can knock, revealing Holly in a black sweater and blue jeans, looking even more beautiful than she did before. I shake my head as I walk past her. I’m here to bring her tea and cookies. I’m not here to think about how her dark auburn hair reminds me of the ruby ribbons wrapped around the poles of the town square, or how her deep green eyes are like Christmas trees.
“You really didn’t have to go to all of this trouble,” she says as she closes the door behind me and Tag.
“It’s really nothing.” I place the tray on the coffee table. “I hope you don’t mind tea, and I didn’t know what you take with it, so I brought a little of, well, everything.” I look down at my offerings and realize that I may have tried a little too hard. Or not hard enough. What was the proper protocol for someone stuck in a town they don’t want to be in?
“I like tea.” She smiles as she sits down on the edge of the oversized plaid chair. She clasps her hands and rests them on her legs, bouncing a little as she looks between me and the tea.
“It’s just tea, I promise.” I give her the best ‘I’m not a serial killer,’ smile as I pass her the mug. “Do you mind if I join you? I don’t want to impose.”
“Not at all,” she smiles and wraps her hands around the mug. “I’m sorry. Things like this don’t happen in Vancouver, and if they do, it’s usually not a good thing.”
“I can promise you Candy Cane Creek isn’t like the big city.” I sit on the couch across from her and take a sip of my coffee, trying to hide my wince from the overly bitter instant grounds. Tag sits at my feet, curls up, and almost immediately begins to doze.
I really need to stop drinking this stuff.
“I can see that.” She takes a sip of her tea and looks back up at me. “In case you couldn’t tell, I’m not much of a Christmas person.”
“You? Nah. You fit right in with Mrs. Claus and the elves,” I joke.
“Hardly. What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry for how I acted. I try to avoid anything to do with the holiday.”
“So what are you doing here, then? This town is an odd destination if you don’t like Christmas.”
Holly sighs. “I’m here for work. I’m a Freelance Blogger, and my client wants different Christmas traditions in small towns all over B.C.”
“So you’re being paid to travel here to write about a topic you hate?” I place my ankle on my knee and take a sip of coffee as I drink her in.
“Hate is a strong word—intensely dislike? Actively avoid? Either way, the client hired me to write a series, and Candy Cane Creek is my last stop. I was just supposed to come in, take some pictures of the town, get a feel for how you celebrate here, and get back to the city well before Christmas Day. But now…” She looks down at her mug, shoulders slumping.
“And you did all of this without booking a room at the Inn? How long were you planning on being here?” My mind races as I try to figure this woman out. I don’t know who would travel to a town for work, only to not plan to stay.
“Honestly? The afternoon. I was just going to take some pictures, ask around about the different traditions, and then head home.” She shrugs, staring down at the mug in her hands.
“Now you’re stuck in a town that looks like Santa’s Village, drinking Christmas tea in a stranger’s guesthouse, without a way to get home.” I feel sympathy for the woman across from me. I know what it’s like to be stuck somewhere you don’t want to be; in a situation that makes you feel lost. Defeated. Hopeless. Looking at Holly right now, it looks as if she’s feeling all of those things. An idea crosses my mind and I sit up suddenly, drawing her gaze. “What about your family? You’ll miss being home with them for Christmas.”
“No, I won’t.” She relaxes back into the chair, holding her mug tighter. “My parents live in Toronto and do their own thing. They usually go on a cruise or a lavish vacation somewhere warm.”
“Siblings?”
“Nope. Just me. It honestly makes it easier for me. That way I don’t have to pretend to like the tradition of being shoved in a room with people I see once a year, getting presents I’ll never use, and having to take off perfectly good days I could use to work.”
I rest my free arm along the back of the couch as I watch her. I know the feeling of being alone on Christmas well, which is what makes me feel closer to her. I was her—except for the hating Christmas part. I’ve always loved the holiday, but I know what it’s like to feel so helplessly alone. Those are my own ghosts of Christmas past, and ones that I want to keep locked up tight along with the boxes of tea in the cupboard in my kitchen.
“Well, since you’re here, you can have the true Candy Cane Creek holiday experience if you’d like. For your assignment, of course.”
She guards her smile with her mug. “Of course. I might as well. You know, for the assignment.” She takes a sip of her tea and places her mug on the coffee table before resting back in her chair. “What would this entail?”
“Well.” I lower my leg and place my mug on the coffee table with hers. “We have events pretty much every day from now until Christmas. Tomorrow is the cocoa walk. We also have a Christmas market this weekend, and the pyjama shop. Everything leading to a dance on Christmas Eve.”
“Oh, I don’t plan on staying that long. As soon as my car is ready, I’m heading back home.” She doesn’t bother to hide her annoyance as she crosses her arms over her chest.
The thought of her leaving sends an unwarranted pain through my heart, and I’m not sure why. I’m not looking for a date. I’m certainly not ready for a relationship after what happened.
So why does it make me panic thinking she wouldn’t be around?
“While you’re here, why don’t I take you around? If you are here on Christmas Day, there is a big feast at the old barn for anyone who doesn’t have their own dinners. Most of the town ends up there by the end of the night anyway, but it’s a big potluck to make everyone feel welcome and included.”
“The town really does that?” her voice is filled with awe as I continue talking.
“Yes, it’s one of my favourite things about the town. No matter who you are, or what you’re going through, you’re welcome to dinner.” I think back to my first Christmas in town. I felt so lost and alone. I wasn’t even going to show up to the town dinner until my neighbour, Edith Jenkins, forced me to.
“That’s really nice,” she says softly as she wrings her hands in her lap.
Her eyes widen and hold mine. I’m frozen, unable to look away from her evergreen gaze. My heart is beating out of my chest and I’m starting to feel things I haven’t felt in a very long time. Not since Lauren.
“I should go,” I blurt as I stand suddenly, grabbing my mug off the table. Tag bolts up, his German Shepherd instincts kicking in, looking for the cause of my sudden outburst. Once satisfied there is no impending danger, he huffs, falling to my side as I walk to the door.
“Oh, okay?” Holly stands as well and follows me. “Thank you again for the tea and snacks.”
“You bet. If you need anything, come up to the main house anytime.” Once again, I’m breathless at the sight of her. The porch light reflects in her eyes, looking like a lit up Christmas tree. “Your coat.”
“My coat?” she asks, sounding dazed.
“May I please have your coat? To get it cleaned.”
“Right.” She snaps back to reality, disappearing for a moment behind the door, coming back with the wool coat in her hands. “Thank you. Have a good night, Rex.” She gifts me another glimpse of a smile as she leans against the door.
“Have a good night, Holly.” I take the coat from her as I use every ounce of willpower I have in me to turn and walk away.
Tag yips at my feet as we make our way back home.
“We’ll see her tomorrow, bud,” I tell Tag as we go, and for the first time in a long time, I’m excited about what the next day will bring.