Lock, Stock & Jingle Bells: A Hamilton Christmas Novella

by Donna Kauffman

  “What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t even take the time to notice his office, which was probably just as well. He knew where everything was, amidst the piles and stacks, but that was the extent of his organizational skills. “Can I—” She motioned to a stack of files and order forms on the only chair facing his desk. He was already shoving back his chair, prepared to leap over his desk if need be, to make room for her, but she carefully shifted the pile to the floor and took a seat. Then immediately sprang up and began pacing.

  Sean frowned. “Holly? What’s going on?” He stood and came around the desk more calmly this time, then finally stepped in front of her, effectively cutting off her path.

  She paused, then abruptly said, “I had a lot on my mind. When I left your place. I woke up happier and more confused than ever. And I—didn’t know where to go next, what to figure out first. Oh, and thanks for the car. I hadn’t thought about it, and I had a meeting with the lawyer, so it was really great of you to do that, and—”

  “Did something happen at the meeting? Did you figure out about the lease?”

  “I did and no, that wasn’t it. Actually, I think that’s going to be easier than I thought. And Mrs. Gillespie is helping me with setting up having a few buyers come in, and an auction house appraiser to look at the stock she doesn’t want. I—I think it’s going to be okay.”

  He tipped up her chin. She was talking a mile a minute. “Something rattled you, was it—” He really hesitated bringing up the night they’d spent together. It had meant everything to him, and he knew he was possibly setting himself up, allowing himself to hope like he was, but he couldn’t seem to stem it. He wanted her. He wanted a chance to see what they could have together, and no amount of rational deliberation or commonsense talks he’d had with himself today was going to change that, apparently. “What’s going on?” he finally asked.

  “I—even with the solutions for the shop issues, I…I had so much on my mind. Mostly about you, about my life in London, my job, what my life here would even be like if I tried…I just—I needed out. Away. I needed to focus on something else. This morning I watched you sleeping, and I felt this need, this overwhelming urge to sketch, to draw, to create and I know it’s all this uncertainty and that’s how I vent.”

  “So…did you?” The idea of her watching him while he slept, much less drawing him, should have been disconcerting, and he supposed it was. But mostly it was an incredible turn-on.

  She shook her head, clearly still distracted by whatever was really on her mind. “I didn’t have the supplies, at your place or the store. But that was probably a good thing…or maybe not. I really don’t know. If I’d spent time working things out with paper and charcoal, or some watercolors, then I probably wouldn’t have grabbed the diary instead.” She held his gaze again now, only more directly this time. “And gone to St. Francis with it.”

  He had no idea what he’d been expecting, seeing her so atypically rattled, but that hadn’t even occurred to him. “This is about the diary?” Enormous relief coursed through him. She was thinking about staying here, about moving her life here; those were the tidbits he’d gleaned from her burst of chatter; that’s what stuck in his head. That she’d woken up happy.

  “Sean, it’s about more than the diary. It concerns you. Your family.”

  “What?” He tried to clear his head, pay attention to what she was saying. “How? I mean, I know you said my grandmother was the one who helped get the baby to the nuns, but what else could that have to do with my family, especially now?”

  “That’s just it, I don’t think they gave the baby to the nuns.”

  Sean frowned. “What in the hell else would they have done?”

  She put her hand over his arm. “They found a home for him. I’m pretty sure that home was with your family.”

  Sean felt himself sway slightly. “They what?”

  “I talked to the priest and showed him the diary, and I spoke to the mother superior. They weren’t personally there at the time, of course, but they’ve both been there since shortly afterward.”

  “I can’t believe they’d have told you anything.”

  “I just let them read the diary and I knew, from the looks they shared, that they knew…something. I asked them in more detail about the adoption policies back then, just in general you know, and all they would tell me is that the way things were back then, they just tried to find a loving home, where and when they could. And…I don’t know how I pieced it together, but I thought about your grandmother being the one to bring the baby to them, and how huge your family is, and so I just supposed, out loud, that it could be someone like the Gallaghers and their faces gave it away.

  “I reminded them that there were no Havershams left, and that only Lionel and his great-nephew were left on the Hamilton side…and that if one of the Gallaghers was an actual blood relation, didn’t they deserve to know?”

  “What did they say?”

  “Nothing. That was all…but Sean, wasn’t that enough? One of your relatives is Trudy Hamilton’s son!”

  Sean leaned his weight back against his desk, sending a pile of paper cascading but ignoring the mess it made. “I guess it’s possible, but…which one? I mean, my dad was the last of thirteen kids. My grandmother was almost as old when she had him as your mom was when she had you. And though my dad only had me, the rest of his brothers and sisters…” He waved an absent hand to the restaurant beyond the door to his office. “Well, you know how that went.”

  “Don’t you think it’s important to find out?”

  “Why, because they might have claim to Hamilton’s money? I don’t know that anyone in my family would risk the damage such news could do just for the sake of a possible inheritance.”

  “What damage could it do?”

  “Think about it…you said yourself that it was Trudy’s money that helped bail out Hamilton Industries. If she had an heir that predated, or possibly precluded Lionel…I’m just saying, having all that come out, I don’t know what good it would do.”

  “If it was you? I mean, if you weren’t a Gallagher by blood…wouldn’t you want to know your history?”

  “Anyone in Willow Creek with the name Gallagher is family. Born into it, married into it, even divorced from it in some cases. Once a Gallagher, always a Gallagher. Nothing would change that. Putting this out there would only lead to possible divisiveness within the family. Why do that?”

  “I’d want to know,” Holly said quietly. “It wouldn’t change how I felt about my parents; they raised me—they loved me. But I’d want to know.” She handed him the book. “This really belongs to you. One of you, anyway.”

  And, with that, she turned and walked out the door. He thought about calling her back, but the entire exchange had caught him so off guard, he simply sat there, book clutched in his hands, wondering what in the hell had just happened. And what he was supposed to do about it.

  13

  So much for clarity. All her little jaunt that day had done was roil up even more confusing emotions. She shouldn’t have just shoved the book in his hand and bolted, but she’d panicked a little. It wasn’t that she truly cared what Sean decided to do with the diary, but their entire exchange, his talking about his family with such pride and fierce loyalty, had only served to make her feel that much more an oddball in contrast. Her life was so vastly different from his. Had she really thought she’d so seamlessly fit in? Yes, it was easy when she was with Sean, but that was only so many hours of each day. What about all the rest of them?

  The bells on the shop door jingled out front, making her heart lurch. She wasn’t ready to see him again, talk to him again, but it wasn’t Sean. It was one of the appraisers. Mrs. Gillespie was really on the ball with this thing. Holly greeted him and was soon swallowed back up in the ongoing, and for the first time, blessed distraction of dismantling her mother’s old life.

  It wasn’t until much, much later, that she had another chance to think about her own.

>   Sitting in the office, she finally closed the folder on the growing stack of papers she was accumulating as the final closing of the shop was all coming together. She rubbed her eyes, then the back of her neck, as she thought about what her mother would say when she returned from her trip to find that Holly had sold off the stock…and leased the store to Mrs. Gillespie. Maybe she should have found someone completely out of her mother’s orbit to take over the space, or just put it up for sale. “Lock, stock, and creepy Santa Clauses,” she muttered.

  But she was helping make someone else’s dream come true, and ownership of the building was an asset for her. It was something solid, a move toward building some kind of future for herself—at least investment-wise—beyond renting a flat and working in a field that was more security blanket than passionate goal. She picked up the envelope that Mrs. Gillespie had dropped off earlier. The woman might be old and eccentric, but now that she had her own passionate goal clearly within her grasp, she certainly wasn’t wasting any time. Holly smiled briefly, remembering Mrs. Gillespie’s response to her when she’d made a similar comment as she’d been handed the legal-size package.

  “I’m seventy-eight years old; time isn’t exactly a commodity I can afford to waste.” She’d folded her hands in front of her once Holly had the envelope in her hands, and added. “It’s not at any age, if you truly understand the value of life.” Then she’d walked out and left Holly to deal with the appraiser.

  She thought about going for some dinner before opening up the packet and seeing exactly what her new tenant was proposing. Apparently unwilling to wait for Holly to come up with a price, she’d gone ahead and put together a proposal. Which, as far as Holly was concerned, was a relief. She’d run it by her lawyer and the accountant he’d recommended she retain and see if they thought it was a viable offer, and barring any wild requests or lowball rent arrangements, she was certain they’d have a deal.

  And then what?

  Her thoughts shifted to Sean. She wasn’t even sure what to do this evening, much less the rest of her life. After her little theatrical exhibition in his office, he’d left her to her own business, presumably to regain some semblance of sanity. Which, to be honest, she appreciated. It had been both an emotionally charged and an emotionally draining week. She just hoped he understood that. And was fairly certain he did. In fact, that was the thing about Sean that drew her the most. He was understanding, willing to talk things out, a good communicator, and not afraid to tell her when he thought his ideas might have more merit.

  So, did she go over there, talk with him? He was probably in the midst of the dinner rush at the moment, so probably not the best time. Was she supposed to just show up back at his house tonight? She felt like they should talk again first, reconnect, before she just strolled into his house. Goldilocks, indeed.

  Deciding that looking at the proposal was less complicated, she slid out the documents and slid the cover letter to the side to glance over the basic setup of her proposed lease agreement. The payment structure actually seemed fair, though she’d still vet it with her lawyer and accountant, but…she peered closer. What was that part about…“commission for works sold will be kept separate and apart from any and all tenant-owner contractual obligations for the…what?” Frowning, Holly flipped through the rest, then finally went back to the cover letter. “What the hell is she talking about, commission on works done? Done by what? Or who?”

  Then she picked up the cover letter and started reading…and realized it wasn’t simply a form letter, but a descriptive part of the proposal. She read through the whole thing, slowly sinking back in her chair…as Mrs. Gillespie presented to Holly what her future in Virginia could actually be. All mapped out and wrapped in a very wonderful bow. “Huh,” she said, unable to articulate her stunned surprise any more clearly. It was all…a lot to think about, but already, she felt her pulse thrumming with excitement. Could she really do this? Did she dare?

  She was so lost in thought, in trying to quell the burgeoning hope before thinking the whole thing through with a more rational, practical eye, that she apparently didn’t hear the sleigh bells ring on the shop door. So she about jumped out of her skin at the knock that came on her door. She really had to get better about locking the damn shop door.

  “Hey, there…hungry?”

  She looked up to find Sean filling her doorway. And everything inside of her bloomed to life. That was the effect he’d always had on her, even as a little girl. Why was she fighting so hard to figure out why things wouldn’t work between them, instead of fighting to find any way possible to keep him around forever? Well, thanks to Mrs. Gillespie, of all people, now she just might have the remaining answers she needed to do just that.

  “Starved,” she said. She tossed the letter aside, excited to discuss everything with him, get his take, realizing how much she’d already come to value his opinion. It was comforting, and the sense of real security she needed, the first building block of a foundation to a new life that was so vital…. Oh, my God, she thought, she was really going to do this. But first things first. She pushed her chair back and stood, coming around the desk as he entered with delicious smelling take out boxes.

  “Beef stew again, but—”

  “It smells like heaven, and I probably should feel horrible for taking you away from your busiest time at the restaurant, but—”

  “You know,” he said, putting the boxes down on the chair and leaning against her desk so he could pull her into his arms. “I’m starting to discover that I’ve trained my people better than I realized. As it turns out, the world doesn’t come to an end after all if I step out for a few minutes, or hours.” He grinned and it was cutely self-deprecating. “In fact, I’ve been informed that there is a general appreciation for me getting a new life and not micro-managing theirs for a change.”

  “Anything I can do to help with that?” she asked, smiling back.

  “As a matter of fact…” He pulled her in closer and kissed her.

  He smelled of warmth, and kitchen cooking, and everything she’d ever wanted. After a life of feeling like she didn’t fit in, from childhood on up, and always being that square peg…she finally felt like she was fitting in. Right where she was supposed to be. And when she kissed him, she poured all of that into it, everything she was feeling—her excitement about the possible new chance for her future, to reach her own goals, goals she’d never allowed herself to even contemplate.

  When he finally came up for air, his gaze was more than a little unfocused. “Wow,” was all he said. “I…wow.”

  She laughed a little, then grew more serious. “Sean, I’m sorry about the way I acted with the diary. I just—”

  “No, don’t apologize. Sometimes, coming from such a large family, from such a broad foundation of love and support, I forget that other people don’t have that, and I felt kind of selfish in being more concerned with preserving that than really thinking that what might be best for that one person is worth a little disturbance. I should trust in the strength of the very foundation I do have.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I think we need to find out who Trudy Haversham-Hamilton gave birth to…and if he’s a Gallagher. In fact, I’ve already put things in motion.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You have? Already? But I just gave you the diary—”

  “You started the path, and I’m going to finish it. I contacted the great-nephew—”

  “You contacted a Hamilton first? Sean, do you think that was wise? They’re the ones who stand to lose—”

  “I did some digging, on Lionel’s only remaining heir, Trevor Hamilton. He lives in North Carolina and has built what amounts to a private social services firm designed to help those in need, especially young entrepreneurs. His wife, Emma, used to work for Lionel. They’ve been married about three years now and, from what I could dig up, she’d started a pet-sitting service down there but moved on and branched out into building her own rescue service a
nd permanent sanctuary for animals who can’t be placed in homes. Everything, apparently from hamsters to horses. It’s really quite the operation.”

  “They sound like an amazing couple.”

  “I thought so, too. Trevor has built his business from the ground up. No Hamilton money. And given what he and his wife have devoted their lives to, I really don’t see where they’d be the grasping, greedy ones, wanting to screw a potential blood relative out of what was rightly theirs. So, I thought I’d start there.”

  Holly smiled. “I think you did amazingly well in only a few hours.”

  He smiled back. “I have to keep up with you, don’t I?”

  “So…what happens next?”

  “Trevor was planning on coming up to see his great-uncle for the holidays anyway. Apparently Lionel has been in ill health for some time now. So I set up a meeting with him. His wife will be with him. And we’ll talk about what is the best step to take.” He shrugged. “Then, I guess I’ll start working from this end, to figure out if it’s really true, if someone in my family is really related, then put them in contact and…let the rest work itself out however it happens.”

  She reached up on her tip-toes and kissed him. “Thank you.” She smiled. “For reaching.”

  He grinned. “Holly, I know sometimes I seem like I know everything, like having my background makes things easy for me. It’s different, and it’s wonderful, but I’m just as apt to make mistakes as anyone. I don’t want to make a mistake with you. And I don’t want my possible single- and sometimes narrow-mindedness when it comes to my clan, to prevent someone I love from finding out what might truly be meant for them. And that includes me.”

  Holly stared into his eyes and knew this was a man she could spend the rest of her life falling in love with. “Sean Gallagher…how in the world did I get so lucky?”

  He laughed. “I’m really glad you see it that way.”