Chapter 9
JACK
The late afternoon sun slanted through the workshop windows, casting golden light across the space where Holly stood bent over the antique dresser they’d retrieved that morning.
Jack paused in the doorway, watching her work, and felt his heart do that familiar flip it always did when he looked at her.
She was completely absorbed in her task, her hands moving with practiced precision as she carefully stripped away years of accumulated grime and poorly applied varnish.
Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and there was a smudge of wood stain on her cheek that she seemed completely unaware of.
Jack smiled, remembering the way her eyes had lit up when she’d first seen the dresser at the antique shop.
Everything else had fallen away in that moment.
The stress about the inn, the worry about Victor’s takeover, and the complicated family dynamics.
There had been only Holly and that beautiful Victorian piece, and Jack had watched her fall in love with it in real time.
“You planning to work through dinner?” Jack asked, stepping into the workshop.
Holly jumped slightly, then looked up with a startled smile. “Jack! I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You were pretty focused,” Jack said, moving closer to examine her progress. “This looks incredible, Holly. How long have you been at it?”
Holly glanced at her watch, and her eyes widened with surprise. “Oh my goodness. It’s almost six? I thought it was maybe four at the latest.”
“Time flies when you’re restoring furniture,” Jack said with a grin. “Listen, I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight. Just the two of us.”
“Of course,” Holly said immediately, setting down her tools. “I’d love that. I just need a shower and a change of clothes first. Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” Jack said, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement in his chest.
“Should I dress up?” Holly asked. “Or is this casual?”
“Smart casual,” Jack told her. “Nothing too fancy, but nicer than jeans and a t-shirt.”
Holly nodded, already mentally planning her outfit, Jack could tell. Then she looked back at the dresser with obvious reluctance.
Jack moved closer to examine her work, genuinely impressed by what she’d accomplished in just a few hours. “Walk me through what you’ve done so far.”
Holly’s face lit up as she launched into an explanation.
“Well, the first step was assessing the damage and the existing finish. This piece had been refinished at least twice before. You can see the layers here where someone used a really thick polyurethane that completely obscured the original wood grain.”
She ran her hand lovingly over the dresser’s top.
“So I started with a chemical stripper to remove all those old layers. It’s tedious work because you have to be careful not to damage the original wood underneath.
Victorian pieces like this were often made from mahogany or walnut, and the craftsmanship is exquisite.
You don’t want to sand away any of the original detail. ”
Jack listened, fascinated by her expertise and the passion in her voice.
“Once I got down to the bare wood, I could see the real beauty of the piece,” Holly continued. “Look at this carving on the drawer fronts. It’s all hand-done, probably by a master craftsman. And the wood is mahogany, just like I thought. Beautiful grain pattern.”
“It’s stunning,” Jack agreed. “What’s next?”
“Next, I’ll need to do some minor repairs.
There are a few spots where the veneer has lifted slightly, and one drawer pull needs to be resecured.
Then I’ll sand it smooth, apply a wood conditioner, and start building up thin layers of finish.
I’m thinking a hand-rubbed oil finish rather than polyurethane.
It’ll bring out the depth of the wood grain and give it that warm, aged look that’s appropriate for the period. ”
“How long will the whole process take?” Jack asked.
“If I work on it steadily? Maybe two more days,” Holly said. “But it’ll be worth it. This piece will be the centerpiece of Room Eight. It’s going to look absolutely gorgeous with those antique chairs we restored last week.”
Jack felt a surge of admiration for this woman who could take something worn and damaged and restore it to beauty. It was a metaphor he didn’t want to examine too closely, but he felt it nonetheless.
“You’re amazing,” Jack said softly.
Holly looked up at him, surprise and pleasure mixing in her expression. “It’s just furniture restoration.”
“It’s more than that,” Jack said. “It’s bringing something back to life. Seeing the potential in something that other people might have given up on.”
Their eyes met and held, and Jack felt the air between them charge with electricity.
“I should go get ready,” Holly said finally, her voice slightly breathless. “Give me an hour?”
“That is perfect,” Jack said. “I’ll meet you at the front desk at seven.”
Holly nodded and hurried off toward her room, and Jack made his way back to his own quarters on the second floor.
An hour later, Jack stood in front of his mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt for the third time. He’d opted for dark slacks, a button-down shirt in deep blue that his mother said brought out his eyes, and a sport coat. Smart casual, just as he’d told Holly.
But his heart was racing like he was a teenager going on his first date instead of a fifty-eight-year-old man who’d been married before.
This felt different, though. Everything with Holly felt different.
With Pamela, even in the early days, there had been an element of performance.
Of trying to be the man he thought she wanted him to be.
With Holly, he could just be himself, flawed, worried, struggling to save his family’s legacy, and she loved him anyway.
Jack checked his watch. Six fifty-five. Time to go.
He was halfway to the door when his phone rang. Jack glanced at the screen and groaned when he saw Detective Bruce’s name.
“Please don’t tell me,” Jack said in lieu of a greeting.
“Sorry, Jack,” Detective Bruce said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Duke’s back at my house. I don’t know how he keeps getting out, but he’s here with Brandy again.”
Jack closed his eyes and counted to ten. He loved his dog. He really did. But Duke’s timing was absolutely terrible.
“I’ll be right there,” Jack said with a sigh.
He hung up and looked at himself in the mirror one more time. So much for his perfectly planned romantic evening.
Jack went to look for Jane, thinking she could help him retrieve Duke, but she wasn’t in her room or the ballroom. He pulled out his phone to call Holly, then remembered she’d misplaced her phone and hadn’t found it yet.
Think, Jack told himself. He needed to let Holly know he’d be late without ruining the surprise he had planned.
An idea struck him. Jack hurried to his office and pulled out a piece of his personal stationery, it was cream-colored paper with his initials embossed at the top. He wrote quickly:
Sorry, I’m running late. Have to deal with something quickly. It shouldn’t take long to fix the problem, and then we’ll have the entire night together. I’ve missed you so much. Jack.
He folded the note, slipped it into a matching envelope, and wrote “Holly” on the front in his neat handwriting. Then he grabbed one of the long-stemmed red roses from the arrangement in his office. Jack had been planning to give it to Holly at dinner and headed to the front desk.
Jack positioned the note and raised it carefully on the front desk, where Holly would be sure to see it when she came down. Perfect.
Then he grabbed his keys and headed out to retrieve his lovestruck Great Dane from Detective Bruce’s house. Again.
A shadow detached itself from the hallway leading to the guest rooms. The figure moved silently across the lobby, eyes fixed on the note and rose sitting on the reception desk.
Long, lean fingers picked up the envelope as they read the name on the front. Holly. Of course.
The person opened the envelope and pulled out the note, reading Jack’s words with growing satisfaction. This was too perfect. Too easy.
They read: Sorry, I’m running late. Have to deal with something quickly. It shouldn’t take long to fix the problem, and then we’ll have the entire night together. I’ve missed you so much. Jack
The words were vague enough to be interpreted in multiple ways. And with the right setup… these words could be interpreted in a completely different way.
A smile split their lips. This would work beautifully. They crumpled up the envelope and shot it into the wastebasket on the side of the desk.
The person heard footsteps on the stairs.
Perfect timing.
The figure quickly positioned themselves near the desk, the rose in one hand and the note conspicuously visible in the other.
Holly
Holly descended the stairs feeling nervous and excited in equal measure.
She’d changed into a soft burgundy dress that fell just below her knees, paired with low heels and the delicate necklace Trinity had given her for her birthday last year.
Her hair was down and loosely curled, and she’d taken more care with her makeup than she had in months.
She felt beautiful. And more than that, she felt happy.
Before Holly reached the lobby, she saw a person standing at the front desk. Her heart lurched, and she faltered for an instant before stepping forward.
“Excuse me?” Holly called out, moving closer to the desk. “The inn is closed for new check-ins, and we’re full if you haven’t made a reservation.”
The figure turned from where they’d been standing near the desk, and Holly’s words died in her throat.
The last person she expected to see stood there, looking like a deer caught in headlights. In their hand was a beautiful, long-stemmed red rose, and in the other hand was a piece of paper that looked like a note.
“Pamela!” Holly hissed, anger flooding through her. “What are you doing here?”