Chapter 2
JULIE CHRISTMAS
St. Augustine, Florida
The Christmas Inn sat on Anastasia Island like it had grown there, as if the ocean breeze and the old streets had shaped it over decades into something welcoming and stubbornly bright.
The holidays had left their mark on every corner.
Garlands draped the banister. White lights traced the windows.
A wreath hung in the dining room, its pine needles fresh enough to scent the air.
Julie Christmas sat at one of the dining tables with a cup of tea between her hands, the steam brushing her face.
She had claimed these quiet minutes for herself before the day demanded her again.
The Inn had been full through Christmas, laughter and suitcases and last-minute requests, and even with the rush easing, Julie never relaxed completely.
Not when the Inn relied on rhythm, and she was the one who kept it.
She lifted the cup for another sip just as footsteps crossed the wood floor behind her.
“Mom?” Jack’s voice carried that familiar blend of warmth and purpose, the tone of a son who had grown up inside this place and knew every creak in the boards.
Julie looked up to see him in the doorway, phone in hand. He held it out. “It’s for you.”
Julie’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh goodness, did I leave my phone again?”
Jack’s mouth curved. “You did. But in the office this time.”
“Who is it?” Julie’s voice dropped as she looked curiously at her son.
“It’s William,” Jack answered her.
Julie’s heart gave a small, pleased jump. William Moore, the best friend who had slowly stolen her heart over the years after her husband passed away.
“Hello, William,” Julie answered, and let a smile soften her voice. “Merry Christmas. I hope you’re not calling to cancel our night out?”
“Merry Christmas, Julie,” William replied. His voice was as bright and cheery as ever. “No, of course not.”
“Oh, good, because I was so looking forward to going to the theater.” Julie leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing slightly.
“I need a favor,” William said.
“Of course. If I can help, you know I will,” Julie replied. “What is it?”
William cleared his throat. “Do you have two rooms available for two weeks, from day after tomorrow to over New Year’s?”
Julie’s smile widened. “I’m sure we do.” She took a sip of her tea. “Last time I checked, there were still quite a few rooms available, especially in that time frame, as most of the Christmas guests will be leaving tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Julie,” William said.
“Who are your guests?” Julie asked curiously.
“Close family friends. They need a change of pace. They need… your kind of place,” William told her. “You know, a place where they can heal and get revived.”
“Of course,” Julie replied. “There is always room for your people, William.” She made a mental note. “When did you say they’ll be arriving?”
“In two days,” William said, and Julie heard his relief.
“All right,” Julie said, already picturing room assignments and fresh linens. “Who are they?”
“A doctor,” William replied. “Her niece and the niece’s teenage daughter. They’re coming for the New Year. Maybe longer.”
Julie’s mind tracked details quickly. A doctor meant early mornings and a certain kind of quiet exhaustion. A teenager meant snacks, extra towels, and a need for space that still felt safe.
“Done,” Julie said. “Message me their names, and I’ll make sure the rooms are ready.”
“Thank you,” William said, voice thickening. “Great. And I’ll fetch you at six.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Julie replied, her heart jolting and her smile growing wider.
They said their goodbyes, and Julie hung up, warmth lingering in her chest.
Julie set the phone down, finished her tea in two slow sips, then stood and gathered the cup and saucer, her mind already shifting into innkeeper mode. She carried the dishes toward the kitchen, then turned toward the front desk.
Halfway there, her phone rang again.
Julie’s eyebrows rose as she saw a blocked caller ID. Frowning, she answered. “Julie Christmas.”
“Julie,” came a familiar voice, smooth and pleased. “It’s Preston. Preston Langford.”
Julie’s posture eased. “Oh, hello, Preston, and Merry Christmas. We missed you at the ball last night.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it,” Preston told her, and she pictured his easy smile without seeing him.
Preston had been coming to the island for years, the kind of guest who always tipped well, always remembered names, always had a story that made people laugh.
A little eccentric, in a way Julie found charming.
He belonged to the Inn’s long list of regulars, as familiar as the ocean air.
“But Christmas was rather hectic for me this year. Oh, and Merry Christmas to you too.”
“Thank you.” Julie stopped at the front desk. “When are we going to see you this year? Are we going to see you this year?”
“That is the reason for the call,” Preston replied. “I’m thinking of coming down for a few weeks. That is, if you have the room. I believe the inn filled up over Christmas this year.”
“Yes, it did.” Julie smiled in remembrance of how the inn was saved by the return of the Christmas ball on top of a few other Christmas miracles. “When will you be arriving, so I can check for a room?”
“In two days,” Preston replied. “I’ve heard you’ve done some great renovations, and I’m really looking forward to seeing what you and your son have done to the inn.”
“It wasn’t just Jack and me.” Julie laughed softly, her heart swelling when she thought about all the people who had chipped in to help them get the inn ready in time for the ball and Christmas guest rush.
“Two days. That seems to be a popular day today. I just booked rooms for a few old family friends of William’s arriving in two days as well. ”
“Oh?” Preston said, his voice becoming curious. “Who’s coming?”
Julie didn’t hesitate. She didn’t see harm in it. “I’m not sure of their names as William hasn’t sent them to me yet. But it’s a doctor friend of his,” she said. “The doctor’s niece and her niece’s daughter.”
“How nice,” Preston said. “Do you know where they are coming from? Are they from Florida?”
“I don’t really know.” Julie frowned thoughtfully. “I’m sure William will tell me later.” She flipped through the computer booking system. “Oh, yes, we do still have a room available for you, Preston,” Julie told him. “It’s on the second floor and has a balcony facing the sea.”
“That’s great, thank you, Julie,” Preston said. “I’ll take it.”
“I’ve booked it for you,” Julie assured him. “We look forward to seeing you in a few days.”
They exchanged a few more pleasantries, then Preston ended the call.
Julie stared at the phone for a moment before setting it down.
She was updating the booking system with William’s guest when her phone bleeped.
It was William with the names of his guests: Dr. Eve Reynolds, Dr. Mia Gray-Duncan, and her daughter Lila Duncan.
So two doctors. William had said they needed to heal and revive.
Julie briefly wondered what had happened when Jack appeared beside her, hands shoved into his pockets. “More bookings?”
“Three,” Julie said, and then corrected herself as she counted. “No. Four. William’s friends and Preston for a few weeks.”
Jack’s eyes lit. “That’s great news. It’s been a good Christmas. A good season.”
Julie exhaled slowly, a quiet release of tension she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Yes,” she said. “We’ve been very lucky this year.”
They stood side by side behind the front desk, the place that always felt like the Inn’s heartbeat. Julie glanced at the screen.
“We only have four more rooms available for the New Year’s Eve weeks,” Julie informed him as she noticed him glancing at his wristwatch. “What time did Holly say they would all be back?”
“In two hours,” Jack told her. “I can’t believe how quiet the inn is when they’re all gone.”
“I know,” Julie said with a sigh, glancing around. “We’ve become so used to all of them being here. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like in a few days when they all go to Miami.”
“I wish they would go after the New Year,” Jack muttered.
“As Holly said, the sooner they wrap up in Miami, the sooner they can all start putting down roots here on Anastasia Island,” Julie told him. “You know, you can go with them, sweetheart. I can run this place by myself. William said he’d help me.”
“Absolutely not,” Jack told her, and before he could say more, the Inn phone rang.
Jack reached for it. “Christmas Inn,” he answered, voice bright and professional.
Jack glanced at Julie as he listened, then nodded. “Yes, we do,” he said into the receiver. “Yes, for a few weeks. Let me take your name.”
Julie handed Jack a pen and a notepad that he had jotted on before he repeated the name carefully. “Calvin Strand,” he said, eyes lifting to Julie. “All right, Mr. Strand. We’ll see you in two days.”
Julie’s eyebrows shot up.
One more room.
One more arrival in two days.
Julie typed the name into the booking systems again, noting that two days’ time would be a popular day for check-ins.
“Now we’re nearly full,” Jack turned to Julie as he put the phone down. “We only have two more rooms available. There’s no way I can go to Miami and leave you here.”
“Or you just don’t want to go to Miami,” Julie pointed out, hiding a smile. “We both know just how much you hate that place.”
“Yes,” Jack said with a laugh. “There is that too.”
Somewhere in a wooded area not too far outside of St. Augustine
A man stood outside a cabin, splitting wood beneath a pale winter sky. The axe rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the sound sharp against the quiet. His breath fogged in front of his face, then vanished.
He wore a flannel shirt, old jeans, and worn work boots. His hands looked practiced, the kind that didn’t waste motion. When the log cracked, it split cleanly, and he set the pieces aside without looking down, already reaching for the next.
The phone in his pocket vibrated.
He stopped mid-reach, body going still the way it did when instinct took over. He pulled the phone out, glanced at the screen, then answered.
“Hello?”
“We have some chatter,” another man said on the other end.
The woodpile blurred at the edges as his focus narrowed. His green-hazel eyes sharpened, alert. “What kind of chatter?”
“The kind you asked me to listen for,” the voice replied.
His grip tightened on the phone. “Status and target?”
“St. Augustine,” the man said. “A couple of days.”
Silence pressed in. The axe handle felt heavier in his other hand.
“What do you want me to do?” the voice asked.
The man’s jaw clenched. When he spoke, his voice held steel. “What we discussed.”
“Understood,” the other man said.
The line went dead.
He stood there for several seconds, the phone still pressed to his ear, the cold air biting at his lungs. Then he lowered it slowly and slid it back into his pocket.
His other hand moved to the inside pocket of his flannel shirt. He pulled out an old photograph, the corners worn soft from being handled too many times.
A beautiful woman smiled at the camera. Beside her, a small child looked serious, chin lifted, eyes bright.
He stared at the picture until the world narrowed to those two faces.
“It looks like what we feared has finally happened,” he said, voice low, as if the photograph could answer him.