Chapter 11 #2
“So what do I do?” Jack asked, desperation creeping into his voice. “I can’t just cancel everything. Do you know how much money we’d lose? We’d have to refund every deposit, every ticket sale. That’s tens of thousands of dollars. Money we don’t have.”
“I know,” Charlie said again, her voice heavy with sympathy.
“But if I don’t cancel,” Jack continued, working through the nightmare scenario, “if I let guests stay here without proper clearance, and something goes wrong. Anything. Even something small. I’m personally liable. They could sue me for everything.”
“Yes,” Charlie confirmed.
Jack stood up abruptly, needing to move.
He paced to the window, staring out at the ocean without seeing it.
“This is Victor. This is all Victor. The missing documentation. George Hartwell showing up out of nowhere with his fake inspection. The convenient lack of available inspectors. He orchestrated all of this.”
“I can’t prove it,” Charlie said. “But yes, I think you’re right. This has Victor Martin’s fingerprints all over it.”
“How?” Jack demanded, spinning to face her. “How did he do this? How did he get my notification call to disappear from their system? How did he get George to lie to me? How did he ensure no inspectors would be available?”
“Victor has connections,” Charlie said. “Money. Influence. He’s been in this business for decades. He knows how systems work and how to manipulate them.”
“So he wins,” Jack said bitterly. “No matter what I do, he wins. If I operate without clearance, I’m breaking the law and risking everything. If I cancel everything and refund the money, we lose so much revenue that we have no choice but to accept his lowball offer. Either way, he gets the inn.”
“That’s exactly what he’s been planning,” Charlie agreed.
“Every step of this. The first inspection showing all the problems. Giving you a deadline. Making sure your notification got lost. Sending George with a false report to make you think everything was fine. Ensuring no real inspector would come until it was too late. It’s all designed to put you in an impossible position. ”
Jack collapsed into his chair, his legs giving out beneath him.
The room spun as bile rose in his throat.
Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as he gripped the armrests, knuckles white.
“I have to cancel everything,” he choked out, each word like broken glass.
“Every reservation. Every promise. The Ball. All of it. There’s no other choice.
I can’t—” His voice cracked. “—I can’t risk operating illegally. ”
“Jack,” Charlie started, but he cut her off.
“No.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “You said it yourself. One accident. One single slip on a wet floor, one faulty outlet. And I lose everything.” He dragged a trembling hand through his hair, eyes wild.
“Not just the inn. Everything. My house. What little savings I have left. Any chance of starting over.” His breath came in shallow gasps now, each word punched out between them.
“I’d be finished. Completely destroyed. I can’t—” His voice broke as he looked up at her.
“I won’t take that risk.” He swallowed. “Victor…”
Before he could finish or Charlie could respond, the library door burst open. Holly and Logan rushed in, their faces flushed and excited.
“Jack!” Holly said breathlessly. “You’re not going to believe this. William Moore’s assistant sent help. A whole crew of professional carpenters just showed up. Six of them, all experienced with historic renovations.”
“And that’s not all,” Logan added, grinning. “The entire staff has rallied to help. Jane, Gabe, Trinity, Maddy, Christopher, Isabella. Even Mrs. Hurling and the kitchen staff. Everyone wants to help get those rooms finished.”
“Marco, one of the dishwashers, used to be a pest controller in Italy,” Holly continued, her words tumbling over each other.
“He examined all three rooms. The damage is old, not new. There are no active infestations. We just need to replace the damaged wood and window frames. With all these people, we can have it done by the morning if we work straight through.”
“Even if we have to send the guests on a complimentary brunch in St. Augustine to put the last finishing touches on,” Logan continued. “We can get this done.”
Holly moved to Jack’s side, taking his hand, her eyes shining. “Jack, we can do this. We can actually pull this off. We can save the inn.”
Jack felt his heart breaking. He looked at Holly’s hopeful face. At Logan’s relieved smile. These people who believed in him. Who believed in the inn.
And he had to tell them it was all for nothing.
“Holly,” Jack said, his voice cracking. “Logan. We need to talk.”
Holly’s smile faltered as she really looked at his face. “Jack? What’s wrong?”
Logan glanced between Jack and Charlie, his expression shifting from excitement to concern. “What happened? Why aren’t you happy about this? We have enough people now. We can get the work done.”
Jack tried to speak but couldn’t find the words. His throat had closed up completely.
Charlie stood slowly. “The situation is worse than we thought.”
“How much worse?” Logan asked warily.
“George Hartwell’s inspection wasn’t official,” Charlie explained. “His license was revoked a year ago. The city never sent him.”
“Okay,” Holly said slowly. “So we get a real inspection. We call the city, explain what happened, and they send someone out.”
“Jack’s notification about completing the repairs was never logged in their system,” Charlie continued. “Which means as far as the city is concerned, he missed the deadline. His operating permit has been suspended.”
Holly’s hand tightened on Jack’s. “Suspended. What does that mean?”
“It means the inn can’t legally operate,” Charlie said quietly. “Not until an official inspector comes and issues a new clearance.”
“So we get them to send someone immediately,” Logan said. “This is an emergency. They have to have some kind of expedited process.”
“They don’t have any inspectors available,” Charlie said. “Not until the second week of January.”
The color drained from Holly’s face. “But the guests are checking in tomorrow.”
“I know,” Charlie said.
“The Winter Ball is in three days,” Logan added, his voice hollow.
“I know,” Charlie repeated.
Holly looked at Jack, her eyes filling with tears. “Jack, what are we going to do?”
Jack finally found his voice. “We have to cancel everything. Refund all the deposits. Call off the Ball. There’s no other option.”
“But that will financially ruin the inn,” Logan protested. “Even with...” He stopped himself, not mentioning the mystery benefactor. “Even with everything, losing that much revenue all at once. You won’t be able to recover.”
“I know,” Jack said, the words tasting like ash. “But I can’t operate without clearance. If something goes wrong, if anyone gets hurt, I’m personally liable. They could take everything. I can’t take that risk.”
“So Victor wins,” Holly said softly, tears spilling down her cheeks. “After everything we’ve done. After all the work. After this entire community came together to help us. He still wins.”
“That was always his plan,” Jack said bitterly. “Every step of it. To make sure we couldn’t succeed no matter what we did.”
Logan sat down heavily. “All those people upstairs. Working so hard. And it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”
“I have to go tell them,” Jack said, though the thought of it made him feel physically ill. “They deserve to know.”
“Jack, wait,” Charlie said. “Let me make some calls. Talk to some people. There might be something I’m missing. Some emergency provision or loophole.”
“And if there isn’t?” Jack asked.
Charlie was quiet for a moment. “Then at least we tried everything.”
“How long?” Jack asked.
“Give me the rest of the day,” Charlie said. “Let me see what I can find out. In the meantime, let those people keep working. Let them have a little more hope.”
Jack nodded numbly. The rest of the day. That’s all they had left.
The rest of the day, before he had to tell everyone that the Christmas Inn was lost.
The rest of the day before Victor Martin won—once again.