Chapter 22
Christmas Eve Morning
If his stomach hadn’t been churning for the past nine hours, Nick might have changed his mind about leaving before breakfast once he saw the size of the cinnamon rolls Grace was baking. But the sun was up, his appetite was down, and his gut instinct hadn’t changed.
It was time to go.
“Are you sure you have to head back home before Christmas?” Grace set the pan of dough in the oven and shut the door, turning to face him with a sad smile.
“Only twenty-four hours left now.” She pointed to the remains of the paper chain hanging beside the pantry door.
The grandkids had been eagerly cutting it every night, and there was only a single green link left.
A countdown he could have done without.
Thomas sat at the breakfast nook table sipping a mug of coffee. He looked up with a grim expression. “He’s made up his mind, Grace. Let him go.”
Nick set down his suitcase as he hovered in the doorway.
The scent of cinnamon and sugar hung heavy in the air, and his stomach growled.
Was Thomas trying to kick him out the door, or was he just being supportive thinking that was what Nick wanted?
He couldn’t tell. “I’m sorry. I just…I think it’s for the best.”
Grace sighed as she fiddled with a holiday oven mitt. “I don’t understand what got into Holly. Everything seemed fine and then—”
“Don’t meddle, Grace.” Thomas took another sip from his mug, then looked down at the daily Wordle on his phone with a scowl.
“Don’t mind him.” Grace offered Nick a wistful smile. “He’s still upset about Chloe.”
“Well, wouldn’t you be?” Thomas’s phone clattered to the tabletop. “All that time and tuition. And it’s about that boy, mark my words.”
Ah, so Thomas wasn’t upset at Nick. But he probably would be once he knew everything.
“Last night was…” Nick took a deep breath. “Well, I’m sure you’re both dealing with a lot of new information from everyone.” Man, those rolls smelled amazing. But then he remembered the look on Holly’s face as she realized his betrayal, and yeah. No appetite. “I hate to add to the stress.”
“You staying here won’t add to anything, hon.” Grace dusted her hands on her apron. “You’re always welcome.”
“More so than some,” Thomas muttered.
Grace ignored him. “But if you need to go, of course we understand. We can talk numbers later.”
“I appreciate that. But…” Nick looked down at his suitcase, then back up with a sigh. “I think it’s best if you take me out of consideration for the property.”
Thomas’s mug clanked on the table. “Why on earth would we do that?”
Grace’s expression pinched. “Don’t be hasty, dear. I know you and Holly had a spat but—”
“Grace,” Thomas barked. “I said don’t meddle.”
“Well, maybe someone needs to.” She planted her hands on her slim hips and glared at her husband.
“Didn’t you call me a fixer last night?” He gestured toward the living room. “Said something about sitting in the truth.”
“This is different.” Grace huffed. “I don’t think either of them even knows what the truth is right now.”
Grace had a point. But that was something he needed to discuss with Holly, and Nick assumed she was still asleep like the rest of the house. She’d left him standing in the yard with Frosty last night, and he hadn’t seen her since.
But her words and the memory of her stiff back as she walked away had sent a clear message. She didn’t believe a word he said, and she was done.
“I’d feel more comfortable if I wasn’t involved in this.” His heart twinged. It was the perfect property, for sure. But Nick hadn’t proved himself to be a man who deserved it. “It’s not just because of Holly.”
“It sounds like there’s more to this story.” Grace’s brows drew together as she rested one hip against the island. “I’ll make you a deal. You stay and eat a cinnamon roll, tell us as much as you’re willing, and then if you still want to leave, I won’t say another word.”
Thomas snorted.
Grace shot him a warning look, then tilted her head toward Nick. “Deal?”
And that was how, thirty-five minutes later, he was down two cinnamon rolls, half a mug of coffee, and the truth.
“I’m not proud of myself this past week.
” Nick ran his finger over the handle of his fork, unwilling to look either of the Sinclairs in the eye after confessing to everything.
The operations. The pranks. The fight with Holly.
“Even before I got here, I was misleading people. And it escalated every day since.”
Grace winced from her spot across the table. “I’m afraid some of that is our fault. We asked you to keep our secret.”
“Maybe so, but I added to the secrets.” Nick took a sip of his coffee, lukewarm now. “I made choices, and those choices hurt people.” Several people, really. Himself. The Sinclairs. But mostly Holly.
“I can tell you care about my daughter.” Thomas sighed as he pushed his plate aside. “But I also can see how this must look to her. I’m happy to speak to her, if you want.”
“I appreciate that, but no. She seemed pretty set on not believing me, and I can’t blame her right now.
” Nick shrugged. “Like I said—I think it’s best if I head home.
She was finally starting to enjoy the holidays for the first time in forever.
” He briefly closed his eyes. “I don’t want to be the reason she feels awkward during her last Christmas in this house. ”
He should have said something sooner. Sure, he tried, once he realized the direction the family meeting was headed, but how chicken of him was that? He should’ve been honest with her from the beginning.
Grace’s lashes fluttered. “You’re a good man, Nick Kinsley. Our opinion of you hasn’t changed.”
But his own opinion had. “Thank you.” Nick shook his head. “Maybe I’m not ready to lead yet after all. How can I guide kids toward a better path when I’m still lying and manipulating people?” Losing Holly felt awful. But realizing how far he’d digressed in his choices felt equally bad.
He’d really failed.
“No one is perfect, Nick.” Thomas’s voice deepened as he made eye contact across the table.
“That’s the whole point of Christmas, you know?
God coming to us through the baby Jesus to be perfect when we couldn’t measure up.
That’s the first and best thing you could demonstrate to any kid. But you have to believe it yourself.”
Hmm. Did he hold himself to too high a standard?
“People fall off pedestals.” Thomas shrugged. “And in my experience raising teenagers, they respond well to sincerity. Adults owning and admitting when they screw up. That’s much more admirable than pretending to never mess up at all.”
“He’s right.” Grace nodded.
“You being human is the best ministry you could give those kids you want to be an example to.”
Nick wadded up his napkin. “Maybe.” But if that was true, why did he still feel like he was seventeen all over again? Disappointing everyone who was supposed to care about him?
He’d been so close to his dream. Now the thought of returning to his cubicle and doing the same thing, day after day, felt like a prison sentence, but he’d done it to himself.
The Sinclairs had a point, but at the same time, if he’d handled the past week with the maturity he should have—the maturity necessary to inspire troubled youth toward making better decisions—Holly wouldn’t be hurting.
And Nick wouldn’t be heading home to spend yet another Christmas with a bowl of soup.
But there was something else he had to say first for Holly’s sake.
With his fork, he traced a pattern in the leftover icing on his plate. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but Holly seemed to be the only Sinclair kid not thrilled about this move.” He set down the fork with a clatter. “I can’t be the reason she loses the home she was just starting to love again.”
“Holly? Upset about the house?” Grace blinked a few times. “I didn’t catch that last night. I thought everyone took the news so well.” She chuckled. “I was even berating myself for having been so worried everyone would lose their minds.”
“Yeah, she seemed quiet, but that’s Holly sometimes.” Thomas shrugged. “I didn’t realize either.” He looked to his wife. “We should talk to her.”
“Just please don’t tell Holly I told you.” Nick pushed back from the table and gathered his plate and trash. “I think feeling seen by you two would mean a lot to her right now.”
Thomas and Grace exchanged another look. Grace touched Nick’s arm, pausing his route to the sink. “Please don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re a good man—always looking out for others.”
Nick swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’ve been pretty selfish. I wanted this property too badly. For the future campers, yes, but also for myself. I was ready to start a new chapter in my life.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Thomas frowned.
“There is when you hurt people along the way trying to get it.” His stomach knotted. The second cinnamon roll had been a bad idea. “Maybe there’s some truth in what Holly thinks of me after all.”
“I doubt that. Sure, you made some mistakes the last week, but we did too.” Grace gestured with her hand between her and Thomas. “We shouldn’t have asked you to keep our secret. It sounds like that one started the whole chain.”
“I agree. We apologize for anything we added to this mess.” Thomas cleared his throat. “I truly hope you can stay and patch things up with Holly. And hey…” He patted his shirt pocket and smiled. “I’ve still got that calculator whenever you’re ready.”
Tempting. So tempting.
But Nick slowly shook his head. “I appreciate it. Appreciate everything. But…I need to go.” He set his dishes in the sink, picked up his suitcase, and checked his watch. Seven o’clock. The rest of the family would be rising soon, and who knew what fun Christmas Eve activities they had planned?
Who would have thought he’d actually be sad to see the holidays go?
Nick blew out a short breath as Thomas and Grace stood to join him. “The rolls were amazing. Please tell everyone I said Merry Christmas.”