Chapter 15 Holly
HOLLY
The breakfast crowd of last night’s helpers were pouring out of the inn, exhausted but satisfied with their work.
Holly looked around for Charlie but couldn’t find her anywhere.
She presumed Charlie was in the suite having a shower and then getting some much-needed sleep, just like Holly, Trinity, and Maddy planned to do.
Holly had just climbed out of the shower and was pulling on comfortable clothes to sleep in when her phone beeped. It was a message from Jack.
Found the eloping pups hiding in an old lifeguard shed further down the beach.
After an interesting conversation with Detective Bruce, who’s leaving Anastasia Island for a promotion and can’t take a dog with him, I’ve decided to adopt Brandy.
Now I think our lovestruck Great Dane won’t try to elope with her anymore.
Don’t tell the kids, especially Trinity and Maddy, who have been pestering me to adopt her. I want to surprise them all.
Holly smiled at the message. This Brandy and Duke love affair had been going on for a couple of weeks now. Jane and the girls had even given the dogs a couple name: Bruke, which was infinitely better than what Holly had been thinking of calling them.
The kids were going to be ecstatic when they heard the news. And Holly had a sneaking suspicion they’d have puppies in a few months’ time. Belgian Malinois crossed with a Great Dane. That was going to be interesting.
She typed back: You are going to be everyone’s hero here. We were all rooting for Duke and Brandy.
Holly lay down on her bed, finally allowing herself to relax. Her heart felt lighter than it had in months. Despite everything they were facing, despite the uncertainty about the inspection and the inn’s future, she felt hopeful.
Her eyes started to drift shut as an image of Jack met her behind her closed eyelids.
His smile, his strong arms, the way he looked at her like she was the most precious thing in his world.
The image followed her into sleep, leading her into dreams of a future she was finally allowing herself to believe in.
JANE
Jane sat at the corner table of the café, checking her watch for the third time. Pamela was twenty minutes late.
“Fashionably late,” some people called it. But no matter what spin you put on it, late was late. Unless there was a very valid excuse, it was rude and disrespectful. Something her grandmother had taught her from a young age.
Just another reason Jane was grateful she’d been raised by Julie Christmas and not by Pamela Martin.
Jane tried to imagine what her life would have been like if Pamela had raised her. Actually, scratch that. If the nanny had raised her while Pamela paraded her around as an accessory whenever she thought having a daughter would boost her social status.
Jane shuddered at the thought. She would probably be just like Pamela. Shallow, manipulative, caring only about appearances and money.
“Jane, baby!” Pamela’s voice cut through her thoughts as the woman slid into the chair across from her, immediately snapping her fingers at a passing waiter. “These people are so slow here.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’m so glad I left this insignificant little town when I did.”
What a snob, Jane thought, about to voice her opinion when the waiter appeared with a big, friendly smile.
“How can I help you?” the young woman said cheerfully.
“You could have done that a few minutes ago by being here as soon as I sat down,” Pamela admonished her, looking down her nose at the waitress. “Bring me a flat-bottled water and ensure there are zero calories in it.”
Jane’s eyebrows rose along with her hackles. “Please,” she added quickly, smiling warmly at the waitress. “Pamela meant to add ‘please’ to the end of her order.”
The woman’s eyes shone with gratitude.
“You’ll have to forgive her,” Jane continued sweetly. “Big city types tend to forget how to act or mind their manners in the real world.”
The waitress bit her lip, clearly trying not to smile, as Pamela let out an indignant hiss.
“Could I please have one of the Christmas gingerbread lattes?” Jane asked before Pamela could speak. “And don’t spare any of the whipped cream or cinnamon.”
“Of course,” the waitress said gratefully, then fled before Pamela could say anything else.
“Jane, how can you put that poison into your body?” Pamela said with disgust. “Did that woman who raised you or your Neanderthal father teach you nothing about nutrition?”
“My grandmother and my perfect gentleman of a father taught me enough to know that water, unless flavored, is naturally calorie-free,” Jane stated calmly, watching Pamela flinch at the correction.
“And I inherited my grandmother’s perfect metabolism that allows me to eat what I want and stay trim.
Plus, I exercise regularly and eat a balanced diet.
Just like I treat the people around me with respect and kindness, again thanks to the incredible family that raised me. ”
The dig landed exactly as Jane intended.
“Why do you have to be so hateful towards me?” Pamela asked, looking genuinely hurt and taken aback by Jane’s response. “I’m your mother. I’m trying to help you.”
“Are you really asking me about being hateful?” Jane looked at her in disbelief.
“You treat people like they’re dirt beneath your shoe, like you’re above everyone else.
Well, you’re not. In fact, you’re a horrible person.
You cheated on your husband and abandoned your three-year-old daughter without a backward glance.
Not even a birthday card or phone call in thirty years.
” Jane leaned forward, her voice steady and firm.
“Now, all of a sudden, you’re wanting to play concerned mommy, and just because you reached out, you’re expecting to be named mother of the year?
Get real, Pamela. Drop the act and tell me what you’re really after. ”
“I can’t talk to you when you’re being so passive-aggressive,” Pamela said, clutching her oversized Louis Vuitton purse tighter. The purse probably cost more than Jane made in a month. “I came here for you to sign some papers so that when Victor buys the inn for us, you get listed on the deed.”
Jane stared at her. There it was again. Pamela trying to get her to sign things.
“Okay,” Jane said calmly. “Let me have them and I’ll get my attorney to look them over.”
“What?” Pamela’s grip on her bag tightened visibly. “No. Absolutely not. Your attorney probably has ties to your father.”
“Or you just don’t want anyone to read what you’re really trying to get me to sign,” Jane stated, tired of the game.
“I’ll tell you again. I can’t sign the inn over to you.
That would take all three signatures, and trust me, Gran and Dad are not going to sign anything you put in front of them without our attorney going over it with a fine-tooth comb. ”
“You don’t trust me?” Pamela looked flabbergasted.
“Nope,” Jane said honestly. “Not one little bit.”
Pamela’s eyes narrowed nastily. “It’s not me you shouldn’t trust. It’s your grandmother. And your father was probably in on it, too. They’re the ones who have been lying to you about why I really left.”
“Oh?” Jane leaned back in her chair, affecting an interested expression. This was going to be interesting, hearing Pamela’s spin on the story from thirty years ago. “And why is that?”
Crocodile tears misted Pamela’s eyes. She even pulled out a delicate handkerchief and dabbed at them dramatically.
“I didn’t leave you out of choice, Jane baby.
Your grandmother forced me to go and never come back, or she’d ruin me.
She deposited a sum of money into my account and told me that if I ever so much as sent you a card, she’d tell Jack that I took money to leave you and him. ”
And there it was. The classic rewriting of history, spinning greed into victimhood, and trying to make someone else the villain in your story. Unbelievable.
“Really?” Jane feigned outrage. “That’s atrocious.” She leaned forward, and Pamela visibly relaxed, clearly thinking Jane was now angry with her grandmother and possibly her father for chasing off her poor, innocent mother. “What did you do with the money? Give it back?”
“What?” Pamela blinked at her in surprise. “I... uh... well, no.”
“Did you use it, or is it in an account somewhere that you can give it back?” Jane asked with feigned concern. “If you could do that, it would prove to me that you really have always wanted to be my mother.” She made herself look vulnerable. Two can play your game, she thought.
“No... I...” Pamela wailed. “Oh, baby. You have no idea how many nights I longed to have my Jane baby close to me. But Victor and I had nothing. We had to dip into it just to survive.”
Jane nodded, watching the performance with detached interest.
“You understand, don’t you, Jane baby?” Pamela continued. “Mommy had to survive so that one day I could come back and get my baby girl.”
Mommy? Jane nearly choked on her own saliva. Luckily, Jane’s chocolaty gingerbread latte arrived, along with Pamela’s water, which she didn’t even touch.
“I understand,” Jane said neutrally.
“Jane baby, please, sign these forms for me so I can ensure you have part of the inn that is owed to you,” Pamela said, pulling a folder from her massive purse.
“Why would I sign a document that gives me part of an inn that is rightfully all mine?” Jane asked.
“Because... because it’s a significant outlay that I have... I mean Victor has to put down,” Pamela explained, stumbling over her words. “So I... we... uh... he will expect part of the inn as his share.”
Jane nodded and took a sip of her drink. It was delicious. She smiled to herself, noting Pamela’s barely concealed disgust as Jane openly enjoyed her beverage.
“Here’s the thing, Pamela,” Jane stated, no longer pretending to be accommodating.
“One thing you don’t seem to realize about my gran is that she might appear flighty, but she’s actually incredibly sharp.
She also keeps all of her receipts. Including the check she wrote you for three hundred and fifty thousand dollars that you deposited the very same day. ”
“I...” Pamela swallowed, her face going pale. “You see? You always believe them.” She pouted, tears misting over on cue.
“No, I believe the facts when they’re presented to me,” Jane told her calmly.
“I know how you tried to exploit me to get my father to give you the inn. How you tried to have Victor kidnap me to do it. I know everything, Pamela. And before you try to spin it to your narrative, I’ve checked and spoken to witnesses.
I know the truth, and your version of that story is not it.
” She downed the rest of her drink and stood up as she’d had about as much as she could stomach being near this woman.
“And FYI, so does my father. Yes, we like to keep each other informed.” Jane picked up her purse.
“As I don’t trust you to leave a decent tip, and believe me, that young woman deserves a hundred dollars or more for not hitting you with her tray, this one is on me. ”
She moved away from the chair. “I will say this one more time before I file a restraining order against you. Leave me, my father, my grandmother, my friends, and my extended family alone.” She gestured around the room. “And leave our sweet town, because there is no room for your kind here.”
With that, she turned and walked away with her head held high, stopping at the counter to pay the bill and ensuring the waitress received a generous tip.
As Jane walked outside into the bright December morning, elation built inside her. When her gran had told her about the money and what happened thirty years ago, whatever little sliver Jane’s subconscious had been holding onto, that tiny hope that Pamela had loved her, was now completely gone.
But Jane didn’t need Pamela’s love or approval, and nor would she ever want it.
Her gran was right. The woman was a viper.
And Jane Christmas was done with snakes.
A thought suddenly struck Jane as she walked to her car.
What the heck had Pamela been so desperate for her to sign?
The woman had changed tactics, trying multiple approaches to get Jane’s signature on those documents.
It must be something important. Something crucial to whatever scheme Pamela and Victor were running.
Jane made a mental note to ask Charlie if she’d ever found out what Pamela had been trying to get her to sign that day at the café weeks ago. Charlie had mentioned looking into it, but with everything that had been happening, Jane had forgotten to follow up.
Whatever it was, Jane was glad she hadn’t signed anything.