Chapter 3
NOLAN
The Christmas Inn looked better in person than it had in the photos online.
Nolan pulled the rental sedan into the parking area and cut the engine, taking a moment to study the building through the windshield.
Two stories, pale paint that looked fresh, shutters in good repair.
Garlands draped the porch railings. White lights traced the windows even in daylight.
A wreath hung on the front door with pine branches thick enough to catch the ocean breeze.
The kind of place that made good magazine copy.
He grabbed his camera bag from the passenger seat and his duffel from the trunk, slinging both over his shoulder before heading toward the entrance.
The air smelled like salt and pine, clean in a way most big cities never managed.
He could already picture the opening shot for the spread: golden hour light hitting the Inn’s facade, the ocean visible in the background, maybe a couple walking the beach.
The lobby felt warm when he stepped inside.
Wood floors stretched toward a staircase on the left.
A front desk sat straight ahead with a wreath hung above it.
To the right, a dining room opened up, tables set with care, cloth napkins folded into neat triangles.
Somewhere deeper in the building, he heard voices and the faint clatter of dishes being stacked.
A man in his fifties looked up from behind the desk, his smile easy and genuine. “Welcome to the Christmas Inn. I’m Jack Christmas.”
Nolan crossed the floor and set his bag down. “Thanks. I have a reservation under Pierce. Nolan Pierce.”
Jack’s fingers moved across a keyboard, eyes scanning the screen. “Got it. You’re here for two weeks?”
“That’s the plan,” Nolan said. “I’m doing a photo spread on the New Year celebrations in St. Augustine and Anastasia Island. Figured I’d stay somewhere with character instead of a chain hotel.”
Jack grinned. “You picked the right place. My mother, Julie, and I run the Inn with my family. If you need anything while you’re here, just ask.”
Nolan took the keys Jack slid across the counter. “Thanks, will do.”
Jack gestured toward a younger man who appeared from a side hallway. “This is Marcus, he will take your bags up and show you to your room, which is a sea-facing room on the second floor.”
Marcus stepped forward with a polite nod, lifting Nolan’s duffel without waiting for permission. Nolan kept the camera bag on his shoulder and followed him toward the stairs.
They were halfway up when the front door opened once again.
Nolan glanced back out of habit, the same way he always noticed movement when he was scouting locations.
An older man entered, tall and distinguished, his posture straight despite what had to be at least sixty years behind him.
He wore a tailored coat, the kind that cost more than Nolan’s camera equipment.
His hair had gone silver, but his face still held sharp lines, and when he smiled, the expression had the practiced warmth of someone used to making good impressions.
“Preston!” A woman, around the same age as the man she called Preston, appeared from near the office, her face lighting as she moved toward him. “It’s so good to see you.”
The man, Preston, returned the smile and took her hand warmly. “Julie. I’m sorry I missed the Christmas Ball. I heard it was wonderful.”
“It was,” Julie said, affection clear in her voice. “We had a full house. But we’re glad you’re here now.”
Nolan’s feet slowed on the stairs. The man had presence, the kind that made people notice him in a room. Nothing about him seemed out of place. Just someone who knew how to carry himself.
“Sir?” The porter paused a few steps ahead, waiting.
Nolan pulled his gaze away and kept climbing. “Sorry. Just taking it all in.”
The second-floor hallway stretched in both directions, doors evenly spaced, each one marked with a brass number. The porter led him to room seven, unlocked it with a key from his pocket, pushed the door open, and stepped aside.
“The bathroom is through there,” Marcus said, nodding toward a door on the left.
“The balcony overlooks the water. We are currently serving lunch. The evening meal begins at six, and tomorrow breakfast starts at seven in the main dining room. But there is always fresh coffee and tea in the dining room.” He moved further into the room.
“There are also coffee and tea-making facilities in your room.”
Nolan handed him a folded twenty. “Thanks.”
Marcus pocketed it with a quick smile and left, pulling the door shut behind him.
Nolan stood in the center of the room for a moment, letting his eyes adjust. It was a warm, clean space.
The bed looked comfortable with a quilt that looked handmade.
There was a chair by the window and a small desk tucked against the wall.
He crossed to the balcony door and opened it, stepping out into the cool air.
The ocean stretched wide and restless beyond the dunes, its sound constant and soothing. He let himself breathe it in, already thinking about his assignment, his mind ticking over with everything that he had to do. Nolan turned back inside and locked the door behind him.
Unpacking took ten minutes. His camera equipment went on the desk, arranged so he could grab what he needed quickly.
His clothes went into the dresser. The laptop stayed in the bag for now and was locked in the closet safe that was big enough to hold it.
He changed into dark jeans and a gray Henley, layered a jacket over it, and checked his phone.
There were no new messages.
Nolan pocketed it and headed back downstairs.
The lobby felt busier now. A couple stood near the front desk, signing something while Jack answered questions about local restaurants. Nolan moved past them toward the dining room, his stomach reminding him he hadn’t eaten since the morning.
As the couple left, another man stepped up to the desk and drew Nolan’s attention. He was in his mid-forties, of average height, and in unremarkable clothes. The kind of person who blends into a crowd without effort.
Something about him made Nolan’s skin prickle. He didn’t know why it was just a feeling he sometimes got about people. Nolan put it down to his photographer’s eye, taking in what most people normally couldn’t see.
But even without that, Nolan tagged the man as some agent or soldier because of the way his eyes moved across the lobby like he was cataloging details instead of just looking around.
Jack finished working on his computer and looked up at the man, smiling. “Hello, sorry to keep you waiting. Are you checking in ?”
“Yes.” The man’s voice was flat. “I made a reservation. The name’s Calvin Strand.”
Nolan kept walking, angling toward the dining room entrance, but part of his attention stayed on the desk.
Jack pulled up the reservation, made small talk about the weather, and the New Year celebrations coming up.
Calvin Strand took the room keys without much reaction and followed Marcus, the porter, toward the stairs.
Nolan shook off the weird feeling and stepped toward the dining room.
He was about to step inside when voices from the lobby rose louder than before.
Nolan turned back toward the front desk and saw four people coming through the front door.
An older man led the way, holding it open for the three women behind him.
The first woman looked to be in her late fifties, composed and steady, the kind of bearing professionals carried without thinking about it.
The second woman was younger, about Nolan’s age, mid to late thirties, with dark hair pulled back in a simple style.
Her face was beautiful in a way that felt fragile, like she’d been stretched too thin for too long.
A teenage girl followed last, bright-eyed and curious, her energy filling the space around her.
Julie appeared again, moving toward them with the same warmth she’d shown Preston earlier. “William! Welcome.”
The older man smiled, the expression transforming his face. “Julie. Thank you for accommodating my family at such short notice.”
Jack emerged from the office, his greeting just as warm. “Good to see you, William.”
“Hello, Jack.” The older man turned to the women with obvious affection. “Julie, Jack, I’d like you to meet Dr. Eve Reynolds.” He gestured to the older woman. “Dr. Mia Gray-Duncan.” The younger woman gave a small smile. “And her daughter, Lila Duncan.”
Julie stepped forward to shake hands, Jack following suit. The girl, Lila, leaned close to her mother and said something that made the woman’s smile widen, though it still didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Nolan found himself watching without meaning to.
The older woman, Eve, scanned the room once before returning her gaze to her group.
The kind of awareness doctors developed from years in hospitals.
The younger one, Mia, kept her hands folded in front of her, fingers worrying at something near her collarbone. A necklace, maybe.
Interesting subjects. Good faces for photography. Human interest angles.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Nolan pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Dad D.
He turned and walked into the dining room as he swiped to answer, keeping his voice low. “Hi, Dad, how are you?”
Nolan chose a table near the window, positioning himself so he could see the door and the rest of the room. An old habit, born of travelling in high-combat, terrorist zones. He’d learned the hard way you had to always be able to position yourself to see what was coming.
“Are you there yet?” Dad D’s voice came through steady, with a hint of urgency that a parent gets when their child is travelling.
“Yes,” Nolan said. “I got a hire car, and I’m at the Christmas Inn. It’s as great as you said it is.”
“I’m glad you like it.” There was a pause. “Are there other guests?”