by Olivia Miles
She supposed she had Nate to thank for that. Even if he had broken her heart.
“Are you going to show us the final product yet?” Molly asked with impatience.
From the back of the storefront, Kara made out the murmur of an exchange between her mother and sister.
“Not until it’s been judged,” she said. The last thing she needed was to lose her confidence or see her mother’s pinch of silent criticism when she pointed out something that was of course too late to change now.
“Well, we won’t have to wait long now,” Rosemary remarked. “They should be here soon.”
Kara still couldn’t bring herself to turn from the window, but she wasn’t looking for the judges, not like her family thought. Her gaze was on the distance, past the town square and over to the Main Street B&B, which was all lit up now, twinkling in the twilight. It had always been a charming sight, a view she enjoyed, one she could linger on, but now… now it felt different, personal. Now it represented the first time she’d felt that spark—the kind that others seemed to find so easily.
She’d hoped when she finally felt it that it would be for the right man. But you couldn’t make someone believe in something they didn’t. And you couldn’t make someone feel something they didn’t.
Her throat felt raw and scratchy when she swallowed. Her mother was right: The judges would be here any minute. They were making the rounds, though she didn’t yet know in what order. She did know, however, that her mother’s house had been judged twenty minutes ago. “A thrilling experience,” Rosemary had announced when she flew into the shop shortly thereafter.
Tearing herself from the window, Kara plastered a smile on her face, even though her heart felt like it was breaking. It wasn’t a feeling she was experienced with, at least not recently. It was something she hadn’t known in a long time, not since she was a child, and her dad… a feeling of loss, not just of a person, but of hope of ever filling that empty space in her chest again. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She couldn’t cry now. Later, yes, but now, no.
She still had to think of her business. Of winning this contest. She owed that much to her father. His hard work had financed this place, after all. She couldn’t throw it all away.
At the edge of the room, Molly was helping herself to another cookie. Rosemary was all but biting her tongue as she eyed her youngest daughter, but as her cheeks pinked and her hands wrung in her lap, her inner restraint snapped. “Now don’t take this the wrong way, Molly, but do you think you should perhaps lay off the cookies for a bit? What about your wedding gown?”
Kara winced, hoping she wouldn’t be called on to intervene, and watched the exchange from behind the shelter of the glass display case, under the guise of some last-minute touches on her gingerbread house.
Molly gave her mother a long look, crammed the last of the cookie into her mouth, and took her time chewing. Once she’d finished, she tipped her head and calmly said, “It doesn’t matter, because I’m not getting married.”
“Not getting married?” Kara almost knocked over the gingerbread house as she sprung up to look at her sister properly, her expression no doubt matching the frozen shock on her mother’s face. “But… but…”
Molly just shrugged. “But what? I’m not getting married.”
Kara looked down at Molly’s hands. Sure enough, the beautiful diamond ring was gone. “Did you and Todd have another fight?” she asked. It was nothing new, and if history proved anything, they’d be back together tomorrow, all forgotten and forgiven.
“Yes. No. It doesn’t matter. We’re not getting married. The wedding is off.”
Their mother turned to Kara with desperation, her eyes silently communicating that Kara should somehow say something, fix this. But how? Molly’s announcement had come about as quickly and unexpectedly as her engagement. Whatever was going on with her sister, she couldn’t figure it out.
“Are you… okay?” she asked worriedly, recalling how badly Molly had taken the last breakup with Todd. Maybe they could cry together tonight, she thought, but it was little consolation.
“Never better.” Molly grinned, daintily wiping the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
“I just…” Kara shook her head, at a loss for words, but Molly all but shot up from the table, her finger jabbing at the window. From the reaction, Kara almost thought it was Santa Claus himself.
Jolting, Kara turned, her heart racing as she saw the judging panel crossing in front of her store. “Oh my goodness,” she breathed. “This is it.”
“Good luck, honey!” Rosemary said, crossing both sets of fingers in support.
Kara tittered nervously. “Thanks, I think I’ll need it.”
Slowly, she walked to the door, plastering a smile on her face as she held it open for the judges. They stared in confusion for a moment at the giant house that was set up on the table Kara had moved to the center of the room, and then began chatting among themselves in voices too low to hear, bending down to peer in windows, seeming to like what they saw.
They couldn’t have been there for more than five minutes, but the seconds passed by so slowly, it felt like an hour until they said their polite goodbyes and slipped out the front door. Kara let out a long breath, not even realizing she’d been holding it in all this time, and sank into a chair.
“I can’t believe I did it,” she said.
“I can,” said Rosemary, coming to sit down next to her. “Oh, Kara. The house… It’s beautiful. Molly, come look, look at what your sister’s done!”
Molly hurried across the room to stand next to their mother, gasping as she crouched to look through the windows of the house. “That’s our living room! You even put the photos on the mantel just how they’re arranged.”
“And the tree.” Rosemary paused to collect herself. “There’s your father’s star on top.”
“And my elf ornaments!” Molly cried. She shook her head in wonder. “I almost forgot about those. Remember how Dad helped us make them that one year? We got glitter all over the kitchen and for once Mom didn’t even care.”
“How could I care? Those are priceless decorations!” Rosemary set an arm around Molly and wiped at her eyes.
“You like it?” Kara asked, searching her mother’s face.
Rosemary blinked back the tears that shone bright in her blue eyes. “I love it.”
Kara set a hand to her stomach, still waiting for the butterflies to leave it. She’d put so much time and energy into this one moment, and it was already over. “I just hope it was enough.”
“To win the contest? Why shouldn’t it be?” Her mother smiled. “Besides, even if it doesn’t win, look what you’ve created! It reminds me of so many wonderful Christmases we’ve all shared together. You’ve brought a glimpse of that time back to us.”
“Are those Daddy’s slippers next to the chair?” Molly looked up, startled, but Kara also thought a little pleased at what she saw.
Kara nodded. “He loved those things, even though they were all worn out.”
Rosemary pulled Kara in for a long, hard hug. “I don’t think I’ve said it enough lately, but I’m proud of you, Kara, and I know your father would be, too.”
Kara’s eyes burned with tears that threatened to spill. But she knew from the looks on her mother’s and sister’s faces that if she started crying, none of them would be able to stop, and it was Christmas Eve. Now wasn’t the time for sadness. Now was the time to look back on what they had and the memories that would always be with them.
She knew now more than ever just how lucky she was to have had those moments. Even if they didn’t last a lifetime, for a while, things had been perfect. That was more than she could say for some people. Including, she thought sadly, Nate.
“I just…” She gritted her teeth. She rarely opened up to her mother about her worries and fears. She was too concerned they would only be confirmed. But something in her mother’s eyes, in the connection they all had looking at a replica of a moment fr
ozen in time, made it somehow feel all right. “I worry I’m going to let him down somehow.”
Let you down, too, she thought to herself.
“But how? Look at all you’ve done, Kara. As a business owner myself, I know how much hard work it takes.”
“Yes, but… what if someday it doesn’t pan out and the doors shut? And the gift Dad left me, the inheritance…”
“It was put to a good use, Kara. You followed your heart. You’ve worked hard. That’s all either of us expected from you.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Kara smiled, leaning in to give her mother another squeeze.
“Group hug!” Molly announced, maneuvering herself under their arms until she was part of the fold, and the awkward tangle of hair, arms, and limbs made Rosemary laugh, and soon, they were all joining in.
Definitely not a day for tears, Kara thought, her heart warming at everything she had this Christmas, even if the one person she’d wanted to share it with had made it clear that he didn’t care to do any such thing.
Nate watched his aunt’s expression as the judges walked from room to room, pausing every now and again to study a decoration or write something down on the clipboards they carried. Each time they lifted their pens, Maggie flinched, causing him to do so in turn. He hadn’t expected to be this nervous, or this invested, but he was. He saw the look in his aunt’s eyes, the approval she sought, the validation, and he couldn’t help it—he wanted this for her.
About as much as he wanted it for Kara.
“Make sure they see the ten lords a-leaping,” she whispered to him as the group moved into the dining room.
Nate nodded quickly. They’d decorated every inch of this old house, with the exception of the attic, and he wanted to be sure every detail was accounted for.
He moved to the back of the house just in time to see them move out onto the back patio, where they reacted with overt surprise to the swans a-swimming in the frozen pond.
“I think they’ve seen everything,” he reported to his aunt as he came back into the lobby.
She was pale, her eyes brighter than usual as she stared at him. “Do you think they liked what they saw?” she asked anxiously.
“I think so,” he said confidently. Even if they didn’t win, they had to be a strong contender. He’d never seen anything like it. Again he was filled with a twinge of sadness when he thought of how much his mother would have liked to have seen all the decorations.
The judges came back through the main room and bid their goodbyes without a hint of insight into their innermost opinions. Nate whistled under his breath as the door closed behind the last of them. “They’re a tough group,” he said. “I’ve never seen so many poker faces!”
“It must be a tight decision this year, then,” his aunt replied. She dropped into one of the armchairs near the hearth, her gaze turning pensive.
“You okay, Aunt Maggie?” he asked, coming to join her.
She briefly met his gaze. “I was just thinking, this might be my last Christmas in this house or running this inn.”
“Please don’t talk that way,” he said. “You’ve got a lot of years ahead of you.”
“I know, but I’m tired. I don’t show it, but… it’s a lot of work.”
Nate pulled in a sigh. “Would you consider hiring someone—”
“I’d rather not,” she replied quickly. “This is a family business.” She eyed him carefully.
Nate nodded, knowing there was nothing he could say that would tell her what she wanted to hear. She was holding out hope that he’d change his mind, give in and move to Briar Creek, take over the inn, but he couldn’t do that. Not to himself. Not to his parents.
He eyed the base of the tree, covered in a red velvet cloth. He’d bought a few gifts for his aunt, ones he intended to give to her in the morning, but now he wondered just how many Christmases had passed where nothing sat under the branches. And he thought of all the kids he’d seen today at the Hope Center who would go to sleep tonight dreaming of things that would never come true and wake up tomorrow morning to find that all that magic, and all that hope, had been for nothing. That some children were lucky and others weren’t.
He couldn’t go back to that place. He wouldn’t. He’d come too far. Worked too hard. Made it his mission to never be poor again, to never wonder where the next meal was coming from, how the next bill would be paid. It was because of him that his parents were living a comfortable life now. Because of him that they were on a cruise, enjoying the good life.
Because of him that they weren’t having a Christmas at all.
His jaw tensed. “Aunt Maggie, I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want.”
She waved away his concern, but he could still make out the sadness in her eyes. “Nonsense. You stayed with me for Christmas. That’s more than I could have asked for. Did you enjoy yourself?”
Nate didn’t know how to answer that question. He leaned forward in his chair, balancing his elbows on his knees, and watched the flames flicker and crackle in the hearth. “It was a nice escape,” he finally settled on.
“Well, it’s a nice town. Nice people.” She stared at him until he finally gave in and met her gaze. “You weren’t here long, but it felt like you really fit into the community.”
No thanks to her gentle persuasion. “I became friendly with some people, if that’s what you’re referring to.”
“Your donation to the Hope Center was impressive,” Maggie continued. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the merchandise being stored in my back closet. You’re a generous man. Most successful men don’t bother to give back.”
“And some don’t remember where they’ve come from. I didn’t grow up with much; you know that.”
She lowered her eyes. “I know. It was a sensitive subject, so we never let on, never offered overt help, even though we wanted to. Your father was a proud man, and the few times we suggested anything, he seemed to take offense.”
Nate frowned. “I wonder if that’s why we didn’t visit very often.”
“Oh, that, and your parents were both busy working. They weren’t in a position to take time away. Neither were we, unfortunately. The inn never closes.”
“My father worked hard. And you’re right, he did take offense.”
“It’s a shame, really, that he saw it that way. All we wanted to do was show that we cared about him. That we were a circle of support. That’s what our community is founded on. It’s why I love Briar Creek so much.”
Nate grew quiet, considering his father’s attitude, mirroring it to his own. He was proud. Proud of what he’d accomplished, proud of the security he could now provide. But he wasn’t proud of where he’d come from, was he? He was too worried about being judged. Just like his father had been. Too worried people would see him a little differently.
Even when they didn’t.
Nate thought of the desperation in Kara’s eyes when he told her about the little boy’s Christmas wish for a new job for his father. She wanted to help. Like his aunt, like the people at his church growing up. And what was he doing to help? Tossing money or toys or food at a worthy cause wasn’t going to change the lives of those children. They needed hope. Real hope. A path toward a future.
He was one of the lucky ones, he thought, thinking back to the school he’d gone to, the grades he’d worked for, the scholarships that were awarded. But not every kid had that drive. Or opportunity.
He turned to his aunt. “Do you think it’s too early to give gifts?”
Her expression turned tickled as a hand flew to her chest. “A gift? I wonder what it could be!”
Nate didn’t say a word as he walked to the staircase and up to his guest room. The painting was tucked in the back of the closet, where he’d last left it, the acrylic paint now dry. He hadn’t wrapped it, but instead held it behind his back as he reentered the lobby.
“I know you wanted a painting above the hearth for the contest entry,” he explained. “And I started to do that for you, but th
en…” He huffed out a breath. Some things just didn’t need explaining. “I thought this made more sense,” he said, bringing the painting out from behind his back and propping it against the coffee table.
His aunt let out a small gasp and then brought one hand to her mouth. She blinked rapidly, and Nate knew she was struggling to hold back tears as she looked at the painting of the inn, not as it had been decorated for the contest, but as it was the first night he’d arrived. Fresh snow fell in mounds along the shrubs, and two wreaths hung from the front doors. Across the way, there was a hint of Main Street, the town square, and the skating rink, where a couple was gliding, hand in hand.
It was a beautiful painting, one he was proud of, but it was a beautiful house, too. That couldn’t be overlooked. Or forgotten.
“Can I ask you a question?” his aunt asked when she finally met his eyes, her own glistening. “What made you stop painting?”
“Time.” He shrugged. “I had to keep up my grades to maintain my scholarship. I didn’t have time for hobbies.”
“Yes, but you had won so many awards for your art in high school. Why didn’t you pursue that?”
Nate looked at her quizzically. “Art isn’t exactly a lucrative profession, at least not for most people.”
“So that’s what mattered? You followed the money instead of your heart?”
“It’s just a reality,” Nate said evenly, but he felt his temper begin to stir. He’d have had to have been callous to enter into a risky or potentially low-paying profession when his dad was working himself to the bone for minimum wage.
“Perhaps,” his aunt said sadly. “But sometimes, following your heart leads to the biggest reward of all.” She smiled at the painting, lost in it for a moment. “Thank you for this, Nate. This inn is my home, my heart, and I can see from this painting that you really understood that.”
They sat in silence until the flames began to die down in the fireplace, both admiring the painting that his aunt placed proudly over the mantel. Nate stared at the picture of the inn, of the life his aunt had lived, and he wondered just what might have happened if he’d followed his heart.
