Chapter 11 Jack
JACK
Jack stood outside Miller’s Hardware Store in downtown St. Augustine, waiting while Logan finished paying for the crown molding they had just loaded into his truck.
The afternoon sun was warm on his shoulders, and the street was busy with tourists enjoying the historic district.
Christmas decorations adorned every storefront, and carols drifted from speakers mounted on old-fashioned lamp posts.
Jack checked his watch. They had been gone from the inn for about two hours, picking up supplies for the final touches on the guest rooms. Paint, hardware, trim work—all the little details that would make the rooms feel complete and welcoming.
He was pleased with how the renovations were progressing.
At this rate, they would have all ten rooms ready before Christmas week, just in time for the bookings that were starting to come in.
“Ready to head back?” Logan asked, emerging from the store with the receipt.
“Yeah, let’s—” Jack stopped mid-sentence, his attention caught by a familiar figure across the street.
Holly was walking out of the Corner Café, her posture rigid and her face flushed. Even from a distance, Jack could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands were clenched at her sides. Charlie was beside her, one hand on Holly’s arm as if steadying her.
Jack’s first instinct was concern. Was Holly okay? Had something happened? He was about to walk forward toward her, but stopped as the café door opened again, and Simon Bennett stepped out onto the sidewalk. He stood there for a moment, his phone pressed to his ear, his expression dark with anger.
Jack felt his stomach drop.
Holly had been meeting with Simon. Her ex-husband. The man who was working with Holly’s ex-best friend to acquire the inn. The man who had shown up at the Christmas Inn two nights ago and thrown everything into chaos.
And Holly had not told him.
“Jack?” Logan’s voice seemed to come from far away. “You okay, man?”
Jack realized he had frozen in place, staring across the street. Holly was already walking away, heading toward the parking lot. She had not seen him.
“That’s Holly,” Jack said, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears. “She was meeting with Simon.”
Logan followed his gaze, his expression immediately shifting to concern. He spotted Simon still standing outside the café, now gesturing animatedly into his phone. “Are you sure?”
“She just walked out of that café, and Simon came out right after her,” Jack said. The words felt hollow in his mouth. “What other explanation is there?”
“Jack, there could be lots of explanations,” Logan said carefully. “Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe—”
“Maybe she’s working with him,” Jack said, the words tasting bitter. “Maybe this whole thing, her coming to the inn, getting close to me, to my family. Maybe it’s all been part of Simon and Terry’s plan.”
Even as he said it, Jack didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t believe it. But the evidence was right in front of him. Holly had been meeting with Simon, and she hadn’t told Jack about it. What was he supposed to think?
“That doesn’t sound like Holly,” Logan said firmly. “Come on, Jack. You know her better than that.”
Did he? Jack had thought he knew Pamela too, and look at how that had turned out. He had thought he knew the contractors Pamela had recommended for that Charleston job, and they had been part of the scheme to destroy him.
“She didn’t tell me she was meeting him,” Jack said quietly. “If it was innocent, why wouldn’t she tell me?”
Logan was silent for a moment, clearly trying to think of a reasonable explanation. “Maybe she was planning to tell you. Maybe she wanted to handle it first and then explain.”
“Or maybe,” Jack said, his voice harder now, “she’s been playing me this whole time. Getting close, learning about the inn, finding out who’s been helping us. That’s what Simon and Terry want to know, right? Who’s been holding up the sale?”
“Jack, listen to yourself,” Logan said, his voice sharp now. “You’re letting your past with Pamela cloud your judgment. Holly is not Pamela. She’s nothing like her.”
Jack wanted to believe that. He really did. But the doubt was there now, planted and growing like a weed.
“I need to get back to the inn,” Jack said abruptly, turning toward his truck. “We’ve got work to finish.”
Logan followed, his expression troubled. “Are you going to talk to her? Ask her about the meeting?”
Jack climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “I don’t know. Maybe. I need to think.”
They drove back to Anastasia Island in tense silence.
Jack’s mind was spinning, replaying every interaction he’d had with Holly over the past week and a half.
The morning jogs. The dinners. The way she had looked at him, touched his hand, and smiled at his jokes.
Had it all been an act? A manipulation designed to get him to trust her so she could gather information for Simon?
No. He couldn’t believe that. He wouldn’t believe that.
But then why had she not told him about the meeting?
By the time they pulled up to the inn, Jack had a pounding headache. He helped Logan unload the supplies, carrying them up to the second floor, where they were working on finishing one of the guest rooms.
“You want to talk about it?” Logan asked as they set down the crown molding.
“Nothing to talk about,” Jack said, his tone clipped. “Let’s just get this work done.”
They spent the next two hours working in near silence, measuring and cutting trim, making touch-up paint, and installing hardware. The physical labor helped calm Jack’s mind somewhat, giving him something concrete to focus on instead of the swirling questions and doubts.
Around four o’clock, Jack heard footsteps in the hallway. He looked up to see Holly standing in the doorway, a small smile on her face that did not quite reach her eyes.
“Hi,” she said. “I was looking for you. Charlie said you were up here working.”
“Hey,” Jack replied, his voice carefully neutral.
“How’s it coming?” Holly asked, glancing around the room. “It looks beautiful.”
“It’s getting there,” Jack said. “Another day or two and it’ll be ready for guests.”
Holly nodded, stepping further into the room. Logan made a discreet exit, mumbling something about checking on supplies downstairs.
They were alone now, and Jack waited. Waited for Holly to tell him about the meeting. To explain why she had been with Simon. To give him a reason to trust her again.
“So,” Holly said, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “I wanted to talk to you about dinner tonight.”
Jack’s hope deflated like a punctured balloon. Dinner. She wanted to talk about dinner.
“What about it?” he asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
“I’m really sorry, but I need to cancel our plans,” Holly said, her expression apologetic. “Something came up, and I... I have to take care of it tonight.”
Jack felt something cold settle in his chest. “What came up?”
Holly hesitated, and in that hesitation, Jack saw confirmation of his worst fears. She was not going to tell him. She was going to keep secrets.
“Just... some errands I need to run,” Holly said vaguely. “Christmas shopping and things like that. I should have done it sooner, but with all the work at the inn, I just haven’t had time.”
Christmas shopping. It sounded like a reasonable excuse. But after seeing her with Simon, after watching her walk out of that café looking upset and angry, Jack could not help but wonder if there was more to it.
“Sure,” Jack said, forcing a smile onto his face. “Of course. No problem.”
He saw relief flash across Holly’s face, and it hurt more than he expected.
“Thank you for understanding,” Holly said softly. “Maybe we can reschedule for tomorrow night?”
“Maybe,” Jack said noncommittally. “We’ll see how the work goes.”
They stood there for an awkward moment, the space between them feeling wider than the few feet that actually separated them. Jack wanted to ask her about Simon. But he still hoped she’d tell him instead of him having to make her.
“I should get back to work,” Jack said finally, picking up his paintbrush again.
“Right. Of course,” Holly said quickly. “I’ll see you later, then.”
She turned to leave, and Jack watched her go, his heart heavy. This was not how things were supposed to be between them. They were supposed to be building something real, something honest. But how could they build anything on a foundation of secrets?
Holly stopped at the doorway and turned back. “Jack...”
Jack looked up, hope flickering again. This was it. She was going to tell him.
But before Holly could continue, Julie’s voice echoed up the stairwell. “Sweetheart, can you please tell your ex that we have mobile phones for a reason. No one likes people who just drop by anymore.” A pause. “In case you didn’t get that… The viper is in your office.”
Jack’s jaw clenched. Pamela. Here again. Uninvited and unwanted, as always.
He turned to Holly, trying to rein in his frustration. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
Holly’s expression had closed off, that guarded look back in her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. It can wait.”
She gave him a tight smile and walked away, leaving Jack standing alone in the unfinished room with more questions than answers.
Jack set down his paintbrush with more force than necessary and headed downstairs to deal with Pamela. But his mind was not on his manipulative ex-wife. It was on Holly, on that tight smile, on the way she had said, “It can wait.”
What had she been going to say? Why had she stopped?
And why in the world had she not told him about meeting with Simon?
By evening, Jack was exhausted but no closer to answers.
Pamela’s visit had been mercifully brief.
She’d chewed his ears off about how rude Jane had been to her, and that she’d brought her guard dog with her, and then tried to grill him about Gabe.
All of which had done nothing to improve Jack’s mood.
He found himself alone in the dining room for dinner, picking at a plate of food he had no appetite for.
Logan had gone to the library to work with Charlie on their research.
His mother was having dinner with William at his home in town.
Jane was out somewhere. Isabella and Christopher had taken Trinity and Maddy out for pizza.
He didn’t know where Gabe was. Presumably out with Jane.
Jack pushed his food around his plate and tried not to think about the look on Holly’s face when she had walked out of that café.
He tried not to wonder what Simon had said to her.
The rational part of Jack’s brain kept insisting that Logan was right.
That there had to be a reasonable explanation.
That Holly would never betray him or his family.
But the wounded part of his heart, the part that still carried scars from Pamela’s betrayal, kept whispering doubts.
Jack stood up, leaving his half-eaten dinner on the table, and walked out onto the back porch.
The evening was cool, the ocean breeze carrying the scent of salt and the distant sound of waves.
The Christmas lights his mother had strung along the porch railing twinkled softly, and beyond them, the dark expanse of the Atlantic stretched to the horizon.
This inn had been in his family for generations. His great-great-grandfather had built it with his own hands, his father had maintained it with love and dedication, and Jack had come back to help save it from being swallowed up by developers who saw it as nothing more than prime real estate.
He couldn’t lose this place. He wouldn’t lose it.
But he also could not shake the feeling that he was about to lose something else. Something that, just days ago, had felt like it might be the beginning of a real future.
Jack heard the door open behind him and turned to see Logan stepping out onto the porch.
“Thought I’d find you out here,” Logan said, coming to stand beside him at the railing. “Brooding?”
“Thinking,” Jack corrected.
“Same thing when you’re doing it,” Logan said with a slight smile. Then his expression sobered. “Have you talked to Holly yet?”
“She came to find me earlier,” Jack said. “Cancelled our dinner plans. Said she had to go Christmas shopping.”
“And you still didn’t ask her about Simon?” Logan’s tone was incredulous.
“She didn’t tell me about meeting him,” Jack said. “If she wanted me to know, she would have said something.”
“Or maybe,” Logan suggested carefully, “she’s planning to tell you but hasn’t found the right moment. Or maybe she’s scared you’ll react exactly the way you’re reacting right now. You know, assuming the worst instead of giving her the benefit of the doubt.”
Jack was quiet for a long moment. “What if I give her the benefit of the doubt and I’m wrong? What if I trust her and she’s been working with Simon this whole time?”
“Then you’ll deal with it,” Logan said simply. “But Jack, you can’t let Pamela’s betrayal poison every relationship you try to have. Holly is not Pamela. You know that.”
“Do I?” Jack asked quietly.
Logan sighed and clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Yeah, you do. You’re just scared. And I get it. But don’t let fear destroy something good before it even has a chance to grow.”
Jack nodded slowly, but the doubt remained, sitting heavy in his chest.
They stood there in silence for a while, watching the lights reflect off the dark water, both lost in their own thoughts.
Finally, Logan spoke again. “Charlie and I are getting close to identifying the developer. We’ve found some connections that are... interesting. We should have solid information in the next day or two.”
“That’s good,” Jack said, though he could not muster much enthusiasm.
“It is,” Logan agreed. “And when we do find out who it is, we’re going to stop this sale. You hear me? We’re going to save the inn.”
Jack wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe they could save the inn, save his family’s legacy, save whatever future he might have with Holly.
But right now, standing on the porch of his family’s inn with the weight of generations on his shoulders and doubt poisoning his heart, Jack was not sure he believed in much of anything anymore.
The only thing he was sure of was that one way or another, the truth would come out.
It always did.