by Olivia Miles
“The Dempseys are checking out early.”
Holly drew a sharp breath as her heart anchored into her stomach. “Of course they are.”
The women exchanged a knowing look that required no other words. This was exactly what Holly had feared. The storm was scaring people away. And she would be all alone for Christmas.
The thought of the house falling dark and silent for Christmas was too unbearable to consider.
“Maybe the storm will blow over,” Abby said gently, sensing Holly’s distress, but Holly shook her head.
She had never been good at hiding her emotions and with the ache she felt in her chest, she didn’t think she could deny her disappointment even if she tried. This was her home. Her family home. A place of so many memories, which she had promised herself she’d keep alive. This house couldn’t fall dark and silent at Christmas. It had once, only once, and it never would again. She promised herself that.
Her voice caught in her throat when she said, “I doubt it.”
She folded another towel and set it on top of the others, the task suddenly feeling useless. The thought of an empty house tonight made her feel weary with dread. She didn’t want to spend Christmas alone. And, much as she loved Abby, she didn’t want to spend Christmas at Abby’s house. She wanted to spend Christmas here at The White Barn Inn, her own home. The one she had spent so much time and energy creating, whose doors she had opened to the public to share.
She was supposed to be spending the holiday with the cheerful buzz of her guests. Just enough company to keep her amused. Just enough work to keep her distracted, preventing her from remembering how truly alone she really was in this big house—and in the world.
And then Max had to stroll into town and remind her of what she was missing. The hope of a future and a family to replace the one she had lost.
For a fleeting second, she wished she had never met him. It was better to fill her life with guests, to keep the companionship constant, than to risk being left alone again.
“Who else?” she asked.
Abby sighed.
“Who else?” Holly repeated, realizing her suspicions were confirmed.
“The Fergusons,” Abby said quietly.
“And?” Panic was starting to build and Holly’s hands trembled slightly as she pulled a fluffy towel from the laundry basket.
Abby hesitated and then, as if just wanting to get it over with, she blurted, “The Browns are thinking about it.”
Holly nodded gravely as she folded the towel. “Thinking about it.” After a pause, she ventured, “Anyone else?”
“No,” Abby said evenly. “At least not yet.”
“Not yet. Exactly my sentiments,” Holly said bitterly.
“It’s going to be okay, Holly,” Abby said firmly. “Pete and I will have you over. You can even spend the night, if you’d like. It could be fun.”
Holly’s mouth thinned with displeasure and she glared at Abby. “You’re giving up pretty quickly.”
“Oh, come on, Holly. I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted you to know you can spend the holiday with us if you need to. Or...want to.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’m being silly. I’m just... It’s just hard, you know?” Holly said. Tears sprung to her eyes against her will and welled into warm pools. She fanned them away with her fingers but it was no use.
“I know it’s hard,” Abby said quietly. And she did know, Holly thought. It was some comfort. “You’ve had a rough time, Holly, and it hasn’t been fair. Not fair at all.”
Holly nodded and brushed away another hot, thick tear. She’d have to find a way to sneak down to her quarters and clean herself up before she faced what was left of her guests.
“I know you miss them,” Abby said. “And I know this time of year is especially tough.”
Holly sniffed loudly and squared her shoulders. Enough crying. Wiping away the last of her tears, she blinked rapidly and let out a small laugh. “I’m being ridiculous.”
Abby shook her head. “No, you’re not.”
But Holly couldn’t help feeling indulgent. After all, her parents had died six years ago this Christmas.
* * *
Max sunk into the thick duvet and powered up his laptop. The inn had internet access, which for some reason surprised him, and he quickly scanned his email for anything new. Predictably, business was slow this week. It seemed everyone else had something—or someone—to fill their time with for the holidays. Everyone but him, anyway.
Max couldn’t remember the last time he had celebrated Christmas. Never in all of his adult years, that much was certain. To him, it was nothing more than an excuse to gather with friends. Nothing more. Christmas Day, when everyone was busy with family, Max tended to work, go to a movie, or go for a long jog—anything to distract himself. Anything to make the day feel like nothing more special than any other. But it was hard not to think about what he was missing, hard not to think about that last hope-filled Christmas all those years ago, and the way his world came crashing around him so quickly. To others, Christmas was a time to build new memories. For Max, it was simply a painful reminder of what he didn’t have, and he always felt a surge of relief the day after Christmas, when he wouldn’t have to deal with it again for another year.
Skimming over his notes, Max then researched the library fire. The little information he found indicated that the cause of the fire had never been determined, but that it was most likely the result of a teenage prank or random accident. The library had been an historical landmark, donated by one of the founding families of the town, and was essentially irreplaceable. The age of the building lent a complication, from what Max could gather, and a structural engineer would be needed to determine the extent of the damage. Then there was the authenticity of the building itself, and the desire to restore it as close to its original form as possible. The cost of this project was monumental for a town of its size, and it appeared there was a lack of wealthy patrons standing around with their purse strings open.
Max considered the predicament for a long moment. He could understand the mayor’s position. Being a real estate developer, Max knew how much a project of this size would cost to build. The mayor had a long, expensive road ahead of him and he seemed fully aware of the impossibility of his situation. Max’s vision for this mall could jumpstart Maple Woods’s sluggish economy and that library project. The taxes collected from the retail sales alone would fuel that development.
He had the mayor’s support. That much was clear. Now he just needed George Miller’s. The planning committee was something Max would think about later.
A twinge of guilt knotted his stomach when he thought of how friendly Holly was with Lucy Miller. She had mentioned George Miller in passing the night before, but Max had never stopped to consider that she would know them on a personal level. That created a serious obstacle. Holly loved this inn—why would the Millers agree to have it taken it from her? Holly would never forgive them.
Max rubbed his forehead, sensing the first hint of a headache. This project was proving to be far more difficult than he had expected. He didn’t have to push it; he could just let it go. He could head back to New York and start the site selection process all over again after the first of the year. Lose most of the department stores he’d come to rely on to anchor his other centers. Throw more money away. Spend more sleepless nights trying to salvage the business he’d built from scratch.
But for what? For a woman he had met only the previous night? As beautiful as she was, even he knew this was foolish thinking. No, he hadn’t come this far to back out now. And Max Hamilton was no quitter. He liked Holly. He wanted to get to know her. And he wanted to build this mall, too.
There was a way to have both, and the two were not mutually exclusive.
A knock at the door jolted him from his though
ts and he quickly shut his laptop and shoveled his papers under a pillow. He ran his fingers through his hair and stood, marching to the door with a pounding heart in anticipation of seeing Holly.
With one last deep breath, he pulled open the door, air catching in his lungs when he realized that the person who had come to see him was not Holly at all.
“Hello there, young man.” Evelyn Adler stood a good half a foot shorter than Holly would have, and Max lowered his gaze to her.
A smile twitched at the corners of his lips as he peered at the older woman. Brow furrowed in confusion, he said, “Hello, Evelyn. Can I help you with something?”
A little sigh released from Evelyn’s mouth and she pushed past him into his suite saying, “Nelson’s taking a nap—a good, heavy meal always does it to him. I went down to the lobby to find someone to chat with and I couldn’t find you anywhere, so I thought I’d come say hello.”
Max watched with a stir of amusement as she made herself at home on a chair near the fireplace. She looked around the room with obvious curiosity, not bothering to hide her interest. Realizing it would be easier to humor her, Max closed the door and took the other seat near the fireplace. “How long does your husband usually nap?” he inquired.
Evelyn shrugged noncommittally. “Oh, it depends. Sometimes an hour...sometimes four.”
Max raised his eyebrows but said nothing. His pulse quickened with anxiety when he thought of all the work he had planned to do that afternoon. At the top of his list was a phone call to George Miller. Evelyn was a sweet lady, but time wasn’t on his side and he wasn’t in Maple Woods to socialize.
Something I should keep in mind when it comes to others under the roof of this old house, he thought wryly.
“As I said,” Evelyn continued, patting her hair, “a good meal does it to him every time. And they do have good food here, don’t you think?”
Max pulled his thoughts away from Holly. “What? Oh, yes. Very good food.”
“We live in Providence,” Evelyn said. “Even with all the restaurant options we have there, nothing compares to The White Barn Inn. But then, that Miss Tate certainly has a way of making her guests comfortable.”
Max swallowed a smile and dodged the question. “I take it this isn’t your first time here?”
“Oh, heavens, no!” Evelyn exclaimed with a wide smile and Max noticed that she had applied a fresh coat of deep red lipstick in an almost garish fashion. “We’ve been coming here since it opened. This will be our fourth Christmas here.”
“Really?” Now that was interesting. Evelyn must know Holly fairly well, then. Despite calling her Miss Tate, he thought with a flicker of humor.
“The first time we came here we were so charmed, we returned again in the winter. We come in the summer for the blueberry picking, you see—the orchards here are simply gorgeous. And then, of course, for Christmas.”
“You don’t want to be home for Christmas?” It seemed a strange time to go away, he thought, but then, as someone who didn’t celebrate the holiday himself, what did he know? Evelyn lowered her eyes to her small, bony hands that were tightly folded in her lap. “Little point, really. It’s just Nelson and me, you see. Everyone else has passed on and...we were never blessed with children.”
Max frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Evelyn raised a hand. “It’s fine. We’re blessed in other ways. Two days after Christmas, we fly down to Florida to spend the rest of winter in Palm Beach. Probably couldn’t do that if we were busy taking care of grandkids.”
Max offered her a small smile. “No, I suppose you couldn’t.”
“And Miss Tate does such a wonderful job with the holiday. She has a way of pulling the Christmas spirit out of people.”
So I’ve noticed, Max thought ruefully.
“She’s like the daughter I always wanted,” Evelyn mused, glancing at him sidelong and holding his stare. Max fought back another smile. Evelyn’s matchmaking skills were far from subtle, but entertaining nonetheless. “Pity that I didn’t have a son to match her up with.”
“Mmm,” was all Max could say to that.
“Was your mother lucky enough to have a daughter?”
The questioned formed a knot in his stomach. “I was an only child.”
“I bet your mother’s hoping for grandchildren soon,” Evelyn observed. She stared at him expectantly, as if willing him to just announce impending fatherhood.
“Maybe,” he said. He couldn’t really say what his mother hoped for anymore. Once, he’d known what all her hopes and dreams were, and he’d foolishly thought he could be a part of them, too.
Max rubbed his jaw. He wondered if she had found a way to make her dreams come true. If the sacrifices she’d made had been worth it to her.
If she ever thought about him at all.
He forced a smile, brushing aside an image of the last time he had seen his mother. Her absence was his answer. She’d followed her dreams, maybe even fulfilled them. She’d moved on with her life. A life without him in it.
“Will you be spending the holiday with your parents?” Evelyn pressed.
“Nope,” Max said simply. He tried to ignore the heaviness that was forming in his chest. Sensing Evelyn’s alarm, he said, “They’re away.”
Not the truth, per se, but not a lie, either. His parents were away. Where they were, he hadn’t a clue, but away, yes. They were gone, long gone. Even before they disappeared in the physical sense, they’d always had one foot out the door, searching for escape in one form or another. His dad found it in the bottle, but his mother... Well, she had greater aspirations than caring for an unwanted kid, it seemed.
“Well, then why don’t you stay and have Christmas with all of us here at the inn?” Evelyn suggested, her face lighting up at the idea. “Nelson and I would love that. And Holly, too, I’m certain... I mean, Miss Tate.” She paused. “She’s quite pretty, don’t you think?”
Max bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. She always found a way of squeezing Holly in, didn’t she? Any thoughts he had that Holly might be spoken for romantically had been erased by Evelyn’s overt matchmaking when it came to her beloved innkeeper.
“In fact,” Evelyn remarked, “she’s really far more than pretty. One might even say that Holly is beautiful.”
Max chuckled softly but he couldn’t deny Evelyn was correct. From her soft hazel eyes flecked with green to her silky chestnut hair and those perfectly full lips, Holly was truly beautiful. Both inside and out, he mused, recalling that dazzling smile that caused her eyes to twinkle.
“Mmm, quite,” he said to Evelyn.
Evelyn latched onto his words. “Then you’ll stay through the holiday?”
“Unfortunately, I’ll need to be getting back to New York before then.”
Evelyn’s eyebrows knitted with indignation. “Whatever for?”
“Work?”
“No one works on Christmas!” Evelyn said, her agitation building.
“Holly does,” Max pointed out.
“Well, that’s different,” Evelyn said petulantly.
“Is it?” Max asked mildly. “How so?”
“Holly loves what she does.”
Max shrugged. “So do I,” he countered.
Evelyn sighed in exasperation. She was a feisty little thing, and much as she was getting irritated, he could tell she was enjoying herself, too. “It’s different. This is Holly’s home. And she likes having guests in her home for Christmas. It isn’t work to her. It’s...an invitation to share the holiday.”
A hush fell over the room. Max felt a punch to the gut at the sudden revelation. Evelyn was right. This was Holly’s home and she was purposefully filling it with strangers for Christmas.
Where was Holly’s real family?
* * *
“And then there were five.” Holly placed the key to the Orange Room in the drawer and waved sadly as the Browns rolled their luggage through the lobby and out into the cold late afternoon. The Dempseys and Fergusons were already gone, and with the departure of the Browns, that left only the Adlers, the Connellys and, of course, Max.
Abby turned to her. “Anything I can do?”
Holly glanced at the clock. “Has Stephen started dinner prep yet?”
“I could check.”
“Thanks. Let him know about the new head count.” Holly made a note about the change in reservations. This storm was costing her more than personal company; it was costing her money, too. And with the purchase of the estate only five days away, she wasn’t in a position to be taking a financial hit.
By now, every reservation scheduled through the first of the year had called to cancel. Their money had been refunded in full. Those who checked out early were also refunded their money—Holly wouldn’t have felt right keeping it from them when some, who were scheduled to leave tomorrow or the day after were simply afraid of not being able to get home in time to spend Christmas with their families. She would hardly feel justified in penalizing them for such a basic desire, even if she had been depending on their stay.
Oh, well. She had the money for the purchase of the property, and anything else would have just been a nice little cushion for getting through the slower months after the holidays. George Miller had agreed to a price that was both comfortable and fair to her. It wasn’t a small sum, but it was worth it to know that the property would be hers and that her home could never be taken from her.
She’d already lost enough for one lifetime. She needed to know that some things were there to stay.
“Holly.” Dana Connelly swept down the staircase. Holly knew what the woman was going to say before she even spoke. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to check out early.”
Holly managed a brave smile. The snow hadn’t stopped all afternoon and dusk was fast approaching. “Did you want to try and leave in the morning?” she asked.
“We think it’s better to leave as soon as possible. Before the roads get worse. We can be home in two hours if we leave now.” She must have sensed Holly’s growing disappointment because her rich chocolate eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Holly. But if we wait until the morning, who knows what we’ll be waking up to out there.”
