'Twas the Week Before Christmas

by Olivia Miles

  The Corner Tap. The lights flashed invitingly on the sign in the window. Inside he could see a heavy crowd, all merrily cheering and toasting, some wearing Santa hats, their faces illuminated by the multicolored strands of Christmas lights that framed the frosted windows.

  His mind flashed once again to his father, who was probably sitting in a similar bar right this moment, buying rounds for people who didn’t care about him with money he didn’t have, and stumbling home at the end of the night to a dark, empty house. His wife, gone. His son, gone. Did he even miss them? Did he even care?

  Max had done everything in his power to make sure that he paved his own way, creating a different path for himself that would take him as far from his childhood as possible. The misery of his youth had fueled him for years, giving him a sense of purpose and determination. But he was so busy running away he hadn’t stopped to ask himself where he was going. Or where he wanted to end up. Or if he was happy.

  He had thought he was happy. He had thought escape was enough. But these past few days with Holly had made him realize how much he was missing out on. How much more there was to life.

  Shifting the car into gear, Max pressed his foot on the accelerator and swerved back onto Main Street, driving to The White Barn Inn as quickly as the icy roads would allow. He didn’t know what she knew. He didn’t know what she would say. All he knew was that he had to talk to Holly. Tonight.

  * * *

  It was dark by the time Holly stepped out of the car and glanced up at the top corner of the inn that housed the Green Room. While she was calmer now than she had been this morning, her mind was still at war with her heart.

  She heaved a sigh, her breath escaping in a plume of steam against the cold night air, and trudged through the snow to the front door. She hadn’t a clue if Max would be there or not, and her pulse quickened with the possibility that he had packed his bags and left for New York. After their exchange this morning, she wouldn’t be surprised.

  Almost gingerly, she turned the handle of the door. Holding her breath, she stepped into the foyer. The lobby was lit by the lamps and Christmas lights on automatic timers, but the inn was hushed. She craned for a sound of life somewhere, anywhere, and found it lacking.

  With a heavy heart, she crossed to the front desk and hung her scarf and hat on the rack. She paused once more, listening for any sound of Max, but all she heard was the pounding of her own heart.

  “You’re back.”

  His deep voice cut through the silence. Holly jumped, and turned to face him. He stood in the door to the dining room, holding a few logs against his broad, sculpted chest. If he was uncomfortable with how things ended this morning, he gave no sign of it. The only reminder of their last words was the sad smile he offered as he walked to the fireplace and began tenting the logs.

  “I thought maybe you had gone,” Holly said softly, moving hesitantly away from the front desk. She couldn’t peel her eyes from him as he went about starting the fire.

  “Where would I go?” he asked. His back was still to her but she could hear the smile in his voice. He wasn’t angry.

  But then, maybe she was the one who should be angry.

  “Back to New York,” she suggested.

  “Didn’t you notice my car parked out front?” he turned and arched an eyebrow. Holly glanced out the window and saw his car in the lot to the side of the house. She’d been so distracted planning what she would say when she saw him she hadn’t even bothered to register her surroundings as she drove up to the house. Realizing her folly, she managed a small smile. “Oh.”

  Max rolled back on his heels, having stoked the fire enough to get the flames roaring. He stood and turned to face her. “I had a meeting in town. Besides, I never would have just left without saying goodbye.”

  Relief washed over Holly as she let out a pent-up breath.

  “It’s good to see you,” she said. The words gushed out and she realized how much she meant them.

  Max gave her an apologetic smile. “It’s good to see you, too.”

  He stepped toward her and she didn’t pull back. Any earlier trepidation vanished as her body took over her mind’s reasoning. He bent his head down to touch her lips, softly, almost hesitantly. But the emotion of the day had awakened something in her, and she pulled him against her aching body, willing him to claim her and finish things they had started that morning. As her lips became more demanding, she felt him return the favor, his kiss becoming aggressive and bold. She entwined her tongue with his and began running her fingers along the back of his neck, feeling the heat from his skin as he pressed her to his body until she could barely breathe.

  Finally, he gently pushed himself back, looking into her searching eyes. She wanted to believe his kiss was full of unspoken words, that the things he had said this morning were untrue or said in hurt. His blue gaze was clouded, but the spark of desire was undeniable.

  “I’m sorry if I upset you this morning,” Max said heavily, as if relinquishing his own burden with the words. “It wasn’t my intention.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t,” Holly said. Hesitantly, she added, “But is that really how you feel?”

  Max sighed and sat beside her. He raked his fingers through his hair and studied the fire, avoiding eye contact. “The thing is, Holly, that there’s still a lot you don’t know about me.”

  “I know,” Holly said simply. “There’s still a lot you don’t know about me, either. We’ve only just met.”

  Max turned and met her gaze. “Yeah, we only just have, haven’t we? It’s strange because somehow it feels like I’m closer to you than anyone else.”

  Holly smiled at the compliment and fought off the warm spark of hope that took hold of her bloodstream.

  “I’m not used to letting people in,” Max admitted. “Maybe I’m not very good at it.”

  Holly offered him a smile. “It takes time.”

  Max nodded, his brow furrowed. He hesitated long enough for her to sense that this might not turn into the happily-ever-after she had hoped it would be. That maybe he still meant what he had said this morning.

  Max locked eyes with her and the intensity she saw in his gaze caused her breath to catch in her lungs. “I like you, Holly. A lot. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Holly searched his face, unsure of what he was telling her, looking for an answer that wasn’t there. She licked her lips, still tasting him. “I don’t understand.”

  Max drew a breath. “Holly, there’s something you need to know. Something that I think will change the way you feel. I...I don’t even know how it got to this point.”

  Holly felt a flood of concern at his sudden loss for words. Her mind raced with possibilities as she watched his eyes darken and shift back to the fire.

  Her heart was pounding. “Max? What is it?”

  Max shook his head and swallowed hard. When she reached for his hand, he moved it away.

  “Max. Please.” She reached out to grab hold of his arm, eliciting a quiver down her spine as her skin touched his. “Just tell me. What is it?”

  The ring of her cell phone cut the tension. Holly felt a wave of irritation so strong it almost exceeded the relief she felt at its timing. On shaking legs she stood and walked to the front desk where she had set her phone, immediately recognizing the number on the screen.

  “George, hi.” Her voice was raspy and breathless from emotion.

  “Holly, I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.” George Miller’s voice was weary and she immediately recognized that something was wrong.

  “Is everything okay, George?” she asked worriedly, her anguish over Max instantly replaced with fear. The roads were slick, it was already dusk. She gripped the phone tighter. When he didn’t reply right away, she pressed, “Has something happened to Lucy or Bobby?”

  “We’re al
l fine,” George explained. “But...”

  Holly’s stomach knotted. She barely managed to form her words. “What is it, George?”

  “I don’t know how to say this, Holly, but someone has made an offer on the land.”

  For a moment the room went still and all she could hear was the blood rushing in her head. She tried to make sense of what he was telling her and failed. “I—I don’t understand,” she finally said, grasping the corner of the desk for support.

  “I’m sorry, Holly,” George’s voice was strained, tight with emotion.

  Holly’s mind fumbled through the fog. “I don’t understand. What do you mean? What are you saying?”

  “I’m sorry, Holly,” George said again. “But I accepted the offer. I sold the land. It’s...it’s done, Holly. I’m sorry.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Holly set the phone down and silently stared at the back of her hands as she pressed her palms flat against the rich surface of the front desk. They were her mother’s hands. The same long fingers, the same small knuckles. The same curve of the thumb. The same hands that had held hers when she was little. And stroked her hair. And wiped her tears. They were so familiar. So constant and reassuring in their sameness.

  The cool grain of the wood warmed under Holly’s palms and she pulled back, dropping her hands at her side. She had thought it impossible to feel this way again, to feel so lost and alone and hopeless. This house was the only thing she had left of her family and her memories of them. And it was gone. Just like that. No longer hers. As sudden as that car crash that took her parents’ lives. It was all just snatched out from under her, without any warning.

  How could life be so cruel?

  She had thought she was too old to feel this way. That nothing could replicate the loss of her parents. But standing there, staring at that phone that had so instantly shattered her world, Holly felt an emptiness that nothing could fill.

  She let her gaze drift over the room, her mind bleary as she tried to comprehend the implications of George’s words. Was none of this really hers anymore? But it was her home. The only home she had. Where would she go?

  Max was standing now, across the room, staring at her. His face was lined with concern. She had forgotten about him.

  “Oh, Max.” She shook her head, trying to clear the fog. Her voice came out like a hoarse whisper. “I’m sorry...I’ve had some bad news.”

  Her eyes lowered once more to the desk. She didn’t trust herself to walk. She didn’t even know where she would go.

  “Holly.” Max’s voice was soft, but firm.

  She looked at him again, noting the ashen pallor of his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Max. I just... That was George Miller. My inn...” She trailed off, her mind reeling with the fresh hurt of George’s words. He had sold the land. Sold her home, without even consulting her. In less than seventy-two hours it was supposed to be hers. For years she had been waiting for this Christmas. And now, suddenly, it was just gone.

  How long had he been planning this?

  A burst of anger erupted in her. Lucy. Lucy must have known all along and she had never even said a word! Not even hinted. Instead she had so callously told Holly how happy she was for her, knowing how important this was to her. Knowing what it meant to her. It wasn’t just about keeping her business going. Forget the business. It was about preserving what was left of her family.

  Holly’s eyes blazed with hot tears as she looked wildly around the room, seething with anger for people she had thought were her friends. Her mind spiraled as she wondered who else knew about this. Abby? Stephen? It was a small town and people talked. What a fool she had been to think anyone in this town cared about her. She had put too much faith in them.

  “Holly.” Max’s tone was pained, the expression in his eyes pleading.

  She looked at him expectantly then stopped. Her heart suddenly froze with awareness. “Holly. I am so, so sorry.”

  Holly’s eyes widened as the reality of the situation took hold. He was in town for business. Real estate, he’d said. His anguished stare met hers, unblinking. It couldn’t be, she told herself. Not Max. “No,” she whispered, not ready to hear the words just yet.

  “Holly.”

  “No.” She shook her head, her gaze never leaving his, silently begging him to make this go away, willing his expression to change. For none of this to be true. “No. No.”

  Max’s lips pinched. His brow knitted as he shook her gaze from his. And she knew.

  “No,” she pleaded, her face crumbling in grief. The tears that had been forming spilled over, relentless in their fall, soaking her cheeks and dripping onto her sweater. She didn’t even bother to brush them away or try and fight them.

  “Please understand,” Max said, his eyes holding hers. “I didn’t know you owned the inn when I started this. If I had known...”

  “What? What?” Holly insisted. “If you had known, you wouldn’t have done it? You wouldn’t have taken my home from me?”

  Max shook his head, dropping his gaze, and Holly felt a fresh wave of frustration mount. She looked wildly around the room, desperate for someone to take this pain away. But the only one there was the person who had brought it upon her.

  “You wouldn’t have done it!” she insisted.

  Max looked up at her with a helpless shrug. “Maybe...”

  Holly’s heart sprang with hope. “Then take it back, Max. Take it back!”

  Max shook his head, his eyes drooping with honesty before listlessly raising to meet hers. “I can’t, Holly. It’s too late.”

  “It’s not too late!” Holly cried, her pitch becoming shrill in her frantic need to reverse the actions that had been set into motion. “The Millers will give you your money back. They know what this place means to me!” She lowered her voice to an urgent whisper. “Just take it back.”

  “Believe me when I say that I wished this could be different. But...it’s business, Holly. It’s not personal.”

  Holly’s eyes flashed with fresh fury. “It’s not personal?” she spat. “It’s personal to me, Max!” she cried, her anger turning to despair as sobs racked her body. “It’s personal to me.”

  She covered her eyes with her hands and cried deeply into her palms, feeling her shoulders shake violently. She felt nauseous. Dizzy and sick. Max reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder and she shook it off, glaring at him. “Don’t touch me.”

  Max sighed and took a step back. He looked exhausted. Defeated. But it didn’t bring her any solace.

  “What are you going to do with it?” she asked quietly. “You’re going to live in my house?”

  Max’s face whitened further. “George didn’t tell you what the land will be used for?”

  “No,” she said cautiously.

  Max heaved a sigh. “I’m a real estate developer, Holly. This land has been targeted for a shopping mall.”

  Holly gasped. Her tears momentarily ceased before silently welling again. “A mall?” she repeated, her voice so small it was barely audible even to her. “You mean, you’re going to...tear it down? My home? For...a mall?”

  Max’s jaw twitched. He swallowed hard. “They might not even approve it, Holly,” he said feebly, but his words were lost on her.

  “A mall? That’s why you were in town? That’s why you were staying here? Meeting with the mayor?” She shook her head as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “Abby saw you. She warned me. I should have known...”

  “I know how much this house means to you, Holly.”

  “No, you don’t! You couldn’t.” Holly choked on a sob. “You don’t believe in family. You said so yourself. You can’t even begin to understand. This is all I have left!”

  A silence filled the room and for one, heart-aching second Holly thought that maybe, just maybe he might change his m
ind.

  “Please,” Max said so softly she could barely him.

  Holly swallowed hard, and looked him dead in the eye. Shaking with emotion, she narrowed her eyes at the man who had only a short while ago seemed so tender and kind. And perfect. “I hate you, Max Hamilton,” she hissed, glaring at him through hot, blinding tears. “And I will never forgive you.”

  Max nodded slowly. “I’ll leave.”

  “I think that’s best,” she said, and then turned on her heel and left him standing there alone.

  * * *

  December 23. She had been counting down the days all year, waiting for that sense of security, the comfort in knowing that her home was hers, that even though her family was gone, their memories could live on.

  A soft tapping broke the silence of the room. Holly rolled over in the strange bed to see Abby standing at the open door wrapped in a chenille robe. Soft light from the outside world was already peeking in through the blinds.

  One day closer, she thought. The deed on the land expired on Christmas Eve.

  “Thought I’d bring you some tea,” Abby said quietly, coming inside to sit at the foot of the bed.

  Holly pulled herself up to a sitting position and propped some pillows against the wrought-iron headboard. She sank back into them wearily, feeling drained and despondent.

  “Thanks,” she said, reaching for the hot mug.

  Abby frowned, and patted her knee under the patchwork quilt. “How are you doing?”

  Holly shook her head as tears threatened to form again, but never managed to surface. Her eyes were swollen and irritated, too dry for any further damage. “Not good,” she mumbled, feeling every bit as miserable as she had since she first arrived at Abby’s the night before. As much as a part of her wanted to stay in that house as long as she could, a greater part needed to be around someone that still cared about her.

  “I figured as much, but I thought I’d ask just in case.” Abby looked around the room, frowning. “I just still can’t believe it.”