Lock, Stock & Jingle Bells: A Hamilton Christmas Novella

by Donna Kauffman

  “Like I said, it’s what I do, and I saw the light on.” He tried a smile. “I also make a good listener. Family my size, you learn early. It can’t be easy, leaving England, coming back to your hometown, taking over the business.”

  She held the bag a little closer to her chest, like a shield, but didn’t say anything.

  “If it helps, I know a little something about that.”

  She dipped her chin, and he found himself reaching out to tip it back up again. “Hey, I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. But I do know about having plans derailed and a life you never thought you’d end up with being dumped in your lap.”

  She stared into his eyes and for the first time he felt he was really looking at Holly Bennett.

  “You probably think I’m being a bit of a spoiled brat,” she said. “I mean, you came home because of an unspeakable tragedy, while my parents just retired. Which, at their age—”

  “Yes, but most parents don’t retire and head off to a new life and dump their old life on their only child.”

  She tilted her head slightly. “I thought you and my parents were friends.”

  “We are. I love your folks. But that doesn’t mean I automatically vouch for all their decisions.”

  “Did you regret coming back to run your family restaurant? You seem—”

  “Happy? I am. Very. And I didn’t necessarily expect to be. Turned out that all my training has benefited me just as much, if not more, in taking over Gallagher’s as it would have if I’d gone off on my own in D.C. like I planned. But I was lucky. I was already heading in a direction very similar to my folks, and their folks before them. It was more a detour down the same path than a whole new journey.”

  “If you had come back and hadn’t been happy…would you have stayed anyway?”

  “I don’t know. I have the benefit of coming from a very large family. So, it’s possible I’d have trained one of them, or a handful of them, to take over, and I’d have gone back to my original plan of opening a more upscale establishment. They’d have only been a few hours apart, so it’s possible I could have run one and overseen the management of the other.”

  “Why didn’t you go ahead and do that anyway? Have your cake and all that?”

  He smiled easily. “Because I am happy here. I learned why it was that generations of Gallaghers have cooked and run restaurants, here and in Ireland. It suits me…perhaps more than that other world ever would have. And I still have the training. It’s affected the menu here and there. I get to play a little with things that interest me. So I think I am having my cake.”

  She nodded, then fell silent again, apparently lost in thought.

  “You know,” he said at length, “you didn’t follow in your parents’ footsteps, in terms of being a shopkeeper, or even in the antiques business, right? Your mom said you are an artist.”

  “I’m in advertising.”

  Sean knew that, but he also knew that, according to her mom, anyway, it was just what paid the bills. Art was her passion. “No one is going to fault you if you decide this isn’t for you. Your mom—”

  “Says she’d be fine with whatever my decision is.”

  “Well, then…?”

  Holly sighed lightly. “That’s what she says. But it’s not how I feel. Now that I’m here. I know what this meant to her. If she was truly okay with dismantling it, she’d have done so.”

  “There’s a difference between being okay with it no longer being here…and quite another to be the one in charge of taking a beloved possession apart, piece by piece. Maybe she simply didn’t have it in her and knew that you being not so emotionally attached might find that easier. I’m not trying to overstep here, but…it’s your legacy to do with as you please, right? Maybe you should just think of it that way. It could be something you find you enjoy…or the sale of it could provide you with the nest egg to pursue your own dreams. Don’t you think your parents would be happy with either outcome?”

  She held his gaze for the longest time. “What I think is that I wish I could have this conversation as easily with them as I’m having it with you.”

  He smiled. “I know they’re your parents, and nobody knows them better than you do. But if you want an outside friend’s opinion—”

  “I think I already have it.” She smiled then. “And it’s appreciated. More than you know.”

  “Anytime.”

  Time spun out and neither of them moved. Or stopped smiling.

  Maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was the sense of intimacy created by standing in the darkened shop, or the connection he felt they shared, lives being abruptly changed, or simply a childhood of separate, but shared memories of growing up in the same town, surrounded by the same things, the same people. Whatever it was, he found himself shifting a step closer. She didn’t move away. And all he could think as he slowly dipped his head toward hers was why had it taken half of his life to finally work up the nerve to kiss Holly Bennett.

  But just before his mouth could brush hers, she took a small step back. “Sean, I—thank you. For the food. I should probably—” She was looking anywhere but at him.

  He touched her jaw, turned her face back to his. “It’s okay. I understand. Long day. I shouldn’t have complicated it further.”

  She surprised him then, when her lips quirked a little, before she looked away again.

  “What?” he prompted, ducking his head to catch her gaze again.

  She paused, then took a breath and said, “There was a time when I’d have died and gone to heaven, just thinking there might have been a moment like…” She gestured between them.

  It was such an unexpected comment, Sean didn’t immediately have a response. His body wasn’t nearly as slow on the up take, however, and moved forward of its own volition. “Wait,” he said, reaching out, touching her arm. “What did you—what?”

  He was close enough, even in the shadowed light, to see the color steal into her cheeks, but perhaps it was his own uncustomary clumsiness that gave her the wherewithal to reply. “When we were teenagers, I…I guess you could say I had a crush on you.”

  “No way.”

  Now she laughed. “Are you kidding? Even you aren’t that humble. You know darn well you were the most popular guy in school. If it was female and had a pulse—”

  “I’m not being disingenuous. But…you?”

  Her eyes widened and she took a big step back. “Wow. Okay, so I know I was dorky and would never give a cheerleader a run for her money, but—”

  Belatedly he realized how that had come out. “No, no, that’s not what I—Holly.” He closed the gap between them, then took the box from her hands and set it on the counter. “I watched you every day for…well, it felt like forever. You never looked like you’d give me the time of day. You were so poised, so sure of yourself, so…different from the other girls.”

  She snorted. “Right. They could all get a date.”

  He turned her face to his again. “Because teenage boys are idiots. Myself included. You have no idea how many times I wanted to say hello to you, but—”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Dead serious. And, you’re right, I didn’t have a problem getting dates, but most girls came on to me.”

  “Poor popular guy, you,” she said dryly.

  “What I’m trying to say is, you’re right, I didn’t have to work all that hard at getting the attention of the opposite sex. Except for you.”

  “I have a hard time—an impossible one, actually—believing for one instant that you spent even a second of your time thinking about nerdy little Holly Bennett.”

  “You weren’t a nerd. You were beautiful. Then, and now. Your hair was always so shiny and you had the prettiest brown eyes. You confused the hell out of me. You always looked so serious, and so…focused. Like you knew exactly where you were going.”

  “Yeah, that was the horn-rim glasses. I was just as clueless as everyone else, trust me.”

  “You certainly didn�
��t come off that way.”

  “So, what, you’re saying you were too intimidated to approach me? It wasn’t like there was a crowd clamoring there. And even if there was, you’d have parted that sea with nothing more than a smile. You could have anyone you wanted. You can’t honestly want me to believe you didn’t think you had a chance with me.”

  “I can, because it’s the truth. You have to realize, that—and I’m not complaining, but this is just fact—I was very popular, which meant a lot of people, my peers, teachers, coaches, my family, everyone looked up to me as some kind of icon or role model, and it was a lot of pressure, trying to live up to that. I knew what I was good at, but—”

  “You were good at everything.”

  “I was good at taking advantage of sure things. I knew I could play sports. I knew I’d get a yes if I asked out a girl who was all but throwing herself at me. I knew the teachers liked me and that if I showed interest in class, they’d reward me.” He tilted her face up to his. “What I didn’t know, and was too chicken to find out, was if the one person who seemed completely unaffected by me would return my interest…or turn me down flat.”

  “So, was I just some kind of challenge, then? Get the one girl who isn’t chasing after me?”

  “If it was just a game, or a contest, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I was a very competitive kid.”

  “So…I don’t get it.”

  “I didn’t want to risk the rejection. Not with you. It would have mattered.”

  She held his gaze for a long moment. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

  “Is it really that impossible to believe? But yes, I couldn’t be more serious. I watched you, wanted you, for a very long time. After school, or on weekends, when I was at the restaurant and you were working over here, I did try to catch your eye. Sort of gauge the interest.”

  “You were always surrounded by a million friends, and your whole family—”

  “So…you did notice?”

  “I’d have to be dead not to notice you. And…yeah. I noticed that you’d be nice, wave, smile. But I thought that was just you being you. You were popular for a reason. People liked you because you were friendly, charming, outgoing. All the things I wasn’t. So…I watched from a distance. If you think your ego was all tied up in not being publicly humiliated, multiply that by, oh, a million, and maybe you could get what it would have taken for me to ever presume to try and get your attention.”

  “You had it without even trying.” He chuckled then. “I can’t believe we spent that whole year—”

  “Years,” Holly muttered, then looked away when he ducked his head to catch her eye.

  “Years?”

  “You’re talking about your senior year, when I was a sophomore. But I noticed you way before that. I mean, we more or less grew up across the street from one another.”

  “Oh, I noticed you before then, too.”

  A brief smile crossed her face, and maybe there was a little blush again. She didn’t say anything else, though.

  “So…” he said at length, suddenly feeling every bit the nervous teenager he’d been. At least where Holly Bennett was concerned.

  “So…” she said. “Thank you, again, for the dinner. And for, well, making me feel retroactively less of a nerdy dorky teenager. It shouldn’t matter, so many years later, but—”

  “Holly.”

  She paused in her nervous chatter and looked up at him. He saw her throat work and was close enough to see her pupils expand. “Yes?”

  “I’m not eighteen anymore. And I don’t give a damn about what people think. I still don’t like rejection.” He grinned. “But I’m not afraid to risk it.”

  “What—what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that some attractions don’t fade with time. In fact…” He reached up, pushed that silky fall of hair off her cheek. “Sometimes, they just get more intriguing. Especially when you’re old enough to know where intriguing attractions can lead.”

  She didn’t just swallow hard. She gulped. “I, uh—I don’t know if I’m staying. I mean, I just came to—”

  “Aren’t you curious?”

  “Curious? About—”

  “About following up on that mutual attraction. Unless—unless, you’re otherwise—”

  She shook her head. More of a jerky move, really. “No, I’m not otherwise anything. Except otherwise unsure if this—um, pursuing this conversation any further is a good idea. I mean, maybe it’s just as well to leave the teenage fantasy as just that? Why risk ruining a sweet memory?”

  “Now who’s afraid?” he gently teased, his fingers still in her hair.

  “Bwak, bwak,” she said.

  He could feel the slight tremor beneath his fingertips as he traced them along her jaw, then slid them beneath her hair and tilted her head back with the slightest of pressure. “So,” he said, slowly leaning closer, “you really don’t want to know?”

  “Is that all it is?” she asked, her voice husky and soft. “Curiosity?”

  “It’s as good a place to start as any.”

  “Some people—” She had to pause, clear her throat, which made his lips twitch. “Some people get to know each other first, before—”

  “We’re hardly strangers.”

  She shifted back a little. “We’re pretty much exactly strangers.”

  “Okay…so what do you want to know? I know what I want to know.”

  She actually rolled her eyes, which choked a little laugh out of him.

  “I didn’t mean that. Well, not exactly that. Yet, anyway.”

  Her mouth dropped open at that, and it was really almost just too much to take.

  “It’s just a kiss…a hello.”

  “And if it’s just…pleasant?”

  “Then a hello is just a hello. We’re friends, Holly. Or, at least I’d like us to be. It doesn’t have to be more than that.”

  “Awkward, though.”

  “We’re the only ones who’d know. And the friendship stands.”

  “I can’t believe I’m standing here, in the middle of the night, bargaining over a kiss. With you.”

  He grinned, but she stepped back. And took the box of food, hugging it, almost too tightly from the sound of crinkling cardboard.

  “Why don’t we move straight to the friendship part,” she said.

  He lifted his hands. “Okay.” Then he shook his head. “Turns out it doesn’t feel any better fourteen years later. The rejection thing,” he clarified.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to be doing a day from now, much less a week, or a month. My life is…complicated. In ways it hasn’t been in a very long time. I can’t handle further…complications. Not right now.”

  “It might have just been pleasant,” he said, teasing her, wishing he wasn’t so disappointed but respecting her wishes.

  Now that smile came back, and it did things to him, surprisingly intense things, which made him wonder if perhaps she hadn’t made the wise move.

  “It might have been pleasant for you,” she said, “but I can pretty much guarantee it would have ranked a lot higher on my scale.”

  Now it was his turn to stand there and stare.

  “I really need to—you know.” She gestured her head, toward the back of the building.

  “Um, yeah. Right.” He turned and walked back to the front door. “Don’t forget to lock up behind me.”

  “I won’t,” she said, staying where she was.

  He supposed so they didn’t risk being in each other’s personal space again. He paused at the door, though, then looked back at her. “I think you’re right. When we kiss, it’s going to be a hell of a lot more than pleasant.”

  5

  Holly heard the tapping on the door downstairs and immediately stopped shoving the large packing crate toward the dormer window and away from her makeshift bed. Sean?

  She knew it was foolish, the little skip her heart took, the extra zip in her pulse. Even if it was him, there was no point in getting
all schoolgirl-crushy about it. She’d spent far more time thinking about their almost kiss in the wee hours last night than she should have, especially considering the laundry list of things she absolutely had to be thinking about. It was more than a little mind-blowing to know, to even think, that Sean Gallagher had been attracted to her. Ever. But they were adults now, and she had some very adult responsibilities to attend to. Ones that left no room for reliving childhood fantasies. Much less contemplate trying to turn fantasy into reality.

  She used her reflection in the pane of glass in the china cabinet that was shoved up against the wall behind the door to push at her hair and check her teeth. Realizing she was primping, she stuck her tongue out at herself and tried to get her head in the place it needed to be as she walked downstairs. The fantasy was pretty damn good if her dreams last night had been any indication, and he’d been right about time only enhancing the details of those fantasies, but the dream world was the realm in which all thoughts of Sean Gallagher were destined to remain.

  She pasted a professional, friends-only smile on her face, prayed it was even in the ballpark of looking believable, and turned the corner at the base of the stairs into the main part of the shop…only to have the smile fade and her shoulders involuntarily slump a little when she spied who it was at the door. And who it wasn’t.

  She wasn’t ready for this conversation, but she’d known word would get out she was back and she’d have visitors before too long. She’d just hoped that too long would have been a little bit longer before this particular visitor popped up.

  She gave a nod to Mrs. Gillespie as she unlocked the door. Arlene Gillespie had worked part-time for her mother for more years than Holly had been alive. She was a tiny wisp of a thing, even smaller than Holly, not the type to indulge in chitchat, though she knew her antiques and could give you, in great detail, the provenance of each piece in the store’s entire and ever-changing inventory without ever having to refer to a single catalog. Holly was certain she’d been a librarian in a former life.

  Her expression was much as Holly had always remembered it to be, neither smiling nor frowning, but merely intent. She opened the door and stepped back to invite her in. “Mrs. Gillespie, how nice to see you.” That was another quirk of hers. Everyone, even her peers, had always called her Mrs. Gillespie. It was only because her mother had signed her paychecks that Holly even knew her first name.