It Started with Christmas: A heartwarming feel-good Christmas romance

by Jenny Hale

Nana’s gaze pierced right through him. “We’re spending Christmas here.”

  “I was renting last week, and I’d planned to call you, but my cell phone service has been spotty. The airport is closed and my flight was cancelled.”

  Oh yes. Holly remembered helping Nana with the reservation. He was there on his own—a bigwig corporate financial advisor or something from New York.

  “Where’s your car?” Holly asked, it suddenly dawning on her that there was nothing in the driveway to alert them that they had a guest.

  “I caught a cab from the airport.”

  Joseph took a step toward them, causing Holly to back up, stumbling over her bags. He caught her with one strong arm.

  Rattled, she busied herself with moving the suitcases against the wall.

  “I’d planned to pay you the extra rent. I’m so sorry if I’ve imposed on your family time.”

  Nana took in an exasperated breath. “Well, Holly and I are not leaving. There’s no way in the world that I will get back into a car in this weather, so we’ll have to make the best of this for a few days.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Holly said, not sure how she’d manage her movie binge-watching with a stranger lurking around. “Nana, you and I can share the other bedroom and Joseph can have the one he’s in.”

  Nana’s frown deepened as she turned around and headed for the spare room. “I’m exhausted,” she said. “So let’s get a move on and unpack our things.”

  Holly went to pick up the suitcases, but Joseph leaned forward, grabbing them first. “Please,” he said. “Allow me. I’m so terribly sorry. It’s the least I can do.” She was impressed by his gesture. How thoughtful.

  They both followed behind Nana, who had already made it into the room and was standing with her hands on her hips. “What in the world is all this?”

  The room was full of cardboard boxes. Joseph moved past Nana, tidying them up, consolidating cartons, and pushing things to the side of the room. “These are all my things,” he said.

  When they’d gotten the bags into the room and Nana was in the en suite bathroom getting ready for bed, Joseph turned to Holly and said, “I’m sorry again. I feel just awful…”

  “What could you do?” Holly said with a consoling smile. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Is there anything else you need before I turn in? Any more luggage?”

  She thought about the snow falling outside and the tree tied to the top of her car and bit her lip. After a full day of work and then the drive, she barely had enough energy to get the rest of the bags, let alone a giant spruce. Dare she ask him?

  Joseph noticed her deliberation. “What is it? I don’t mind. Ask away.”

  “Feel like getting a Christmas tree off my car?”

  The request clearly surprised him, making him smile, the natural amusement on his face only solidifying her opinion of his good looks. Suddenly, she’d forgotten all about how tired she was.

  Three

  “How’s that?” Joseph said from under the Christmas tree where he was holding the trunk into the stand before he twisted the bolts to secure it. He’d changed into a sweater and jeans, put his hiking boots on, and insisted that Holly stay put inside while he got the tree off her car. Now, with his coat and scarf draped on the chair in the corner, he was lying on the floor, arms stretched under the tree, wriggling it back and forth. “Is it straight?”

  “It’s perfect.”

  While he got the tree up, Holly made them a cup of coffee to combat the exhaustion that they both felt. She’d been so excited to get out of Nashville and take Nana to the cabin that she hadn’t thought about the unpacking part, and it was now quarter to two in the morning. But if they’d left the tree on her car it would’ve been buried in snow by the next day, and a mess when they’d brought it inside.

  Once he saw their gifts and the countless ornaments and decorations, Joseph promised to bring them all in tonight. He said it was the least he could do for disrupting their plans. Nana had gone on to bed, and Holly told her that she’d turn in too in just a bit, once they brought everything in.

  Holly didn’t mind the late hour, though. It was nice to have someone around her age to talk to. When she wasn’t working, she spent all her time with Nana. And Joseph seemed like a good guy. He really didn’t have to do all this for them, and it was clear that he was trying to make up for the miscommunication.

  When he got it all secured, Joseph came over to her at the kitchen counter and took a seat on one of the iron barstools she’d found on sale downtown. She handed him a mug with a faded printed picture of a guitar on it that read “Music City” underneath in neon pink block letters. He took it, inspecting the front discreetly, but she caught him. Without thinking, she’d used Papa’s stash of mugs she’d hidden at the bottom of the cabinet instead of the stone-fired, multi-glazed ones she bought to match the new dishes. On Christmas with Papa she always used his mugs for hot chocolate, and they topped them with whipped cream and candy canes.

  “I didn’t know how you take your coffee,” she said. “I put a little cream and sugar in it. I hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine,” he said. “Thank you.” He took the mug from her and lifted it to his lips. He looked different in his sweater. It was dark navy blue and brought out the slight olive tone in his face and his dark eyes. And it was much more stylish than those pajamas he’d had on. Sitting there beside her, trying to hide his fatigue, there was no denying that he was strikingly handsome.

  “Have you enjoyed your stay?”

  “Yes, quite a lot, thank you.” Joseph set his mug down on the counter and looked around. “This place is great. Very relaxing.”

  She smiled, happy that she’d pulled off what she’d intended with the remodel. “I’m so glad.”

  “It’s definitely different from New York,” he said with a chuckle.

  Holly laughed a little too loudly and tried to suck it back in. The image of Joseph and his silver pajamas popping into her head, amusing her. Maybe they were a New York fashion statement—definitely not anything like what her Papa would’ve worn in the cabin on Christmas. And they had to be cold in this weather. Joseph needed some good plaid flannel.

  “Did I say something funny?” he asked, interested.

  Her smile lingering, she shook her head. “No, it just reminded me of my papa. He was definitely a southern soul, very much like this place. I remember when we spent summers here, he used to sit out on the porch, wearing his dirty work boots from helping his buddies plow the fields,” she digressed. “He’d always have a drink on the table and a guitar in his hands. I think he’d have sat out on that porch all day and night if my nana had let him.”

  Suddenly, it occurred to her that she’d been going on about strangers Joseph didn’t know, which she worried might bore him. But it was as if her story had entranced him. He was smiling, looking into her eyes. She liked how he did that.

  His gaze shifted upward as he surveyed the room. “Your papa lived here?”

  Holly’s story probably didn’t fit with the new décor. “I’ve remodeled since he passed away. When I came as a kid, it was more… rustic.”

  “Mmm.” Joseph continued looking around. “You did this?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s really current and professionally done. So you’re a decorator?”

  Holly shrugged and shook her head, uncertainty taking over. She wasn’t ashamed of what she did for a living but by the fact that she wasn’t busy pursuing what she really wanted to do in life. The problem was that she just wasn’t willing to be away from Nana, and doing decorating jobs or starting her own full-scale business would mean she’d be working all hours to get a company started. Just the remodel of the cabin had consumed a huge amount of her time. “I’m a server at a steakhouse in Nashville.”

  “Really?” He seemed perplexed by her answer, but he worked to straighten out his expression. “It seems like you could undoubtedly be an interior decorator.”

  “Yeah,
it comes easily for me. I really love event-planning too—anything creative, really. But I could never do that full-time.”

  He held his mug, his strong hands nearly covering the surface entirely, making it look much smaller than it had previously. “Why?” he asked.

  It might be simple for him to just start a career from scratch with whatever millions he probably had, but she had bills to pay and Nana to care for. And even if she tried to find a job in that realm, who would hire her when she had no experience whatsoever?

  “I’m happy waitressing,” Holly said, just to stop the conversation. She could tell by his face that he didn’t agree, so she cut it off before he could try to convince her otherwise. She didn’t need some guy filling her head with grand ideas that would fall flat and waste her time and money she could be spending to give Nana a great life. Waitressing was safe; it gave her a steady income and regular hours.

  “I’m a lot like my papa: I have that creative bug, but I’m content just making a regular living.” She didn’t need anything fancy. Papa had stuck to those ideals and he’d saved enough to leave his family with quite a nice inheritance. Where would his money have gone if he’d run around trying to do something grand?

  When Holly twisted toward Joseph to get comfortable, she ignored the disbelieving look in his eyes. “Your papa sounds like a fun guy,” he said, and she was happy he’d let her off the hook.

  “He was.”

  Just mentioning Papa made her relax. He had that affect on people, which was probably why Nana had been uptight ever since his passing. He’d been her sunshine, and when he was gone, she just didn’t have a reason to smile anymore. But Holly was going to do her very best to change that.

  “I naturally gravitated to my papa, so my parents let me spend every summer with him and Nana here at the cabin, and I was always with him on holidays. I can’t imagine a childhood with anyone other than Papa.” She hadn’t chatted this much to anyone in ages. “I guess all dads and granddads are like that, though. What’s your granddad like?”

  Joseph pursed his lips, his eyebrows raised. “Uhh…” He seemed a little frazzled, but he was obviously good at keeping himself together. “I never knew either of my grandparents. They both passed away before I was born.”

  “Oh, that’s really sad,” she said, feeling terrible for having glorified her childhood with her own grandfather. She hadn’t meant to seem insensitive. “What about your dad? What was he like?”

  “I don’t… speak to my father.”

  “You don’t?” Holly couldn’t fathom not talking to her own dad. “Why don’t you talk to him?” She probably shouldn’t have asked him such a personal question but her curiosity overpowered her sense of restraint.

  “I don’t think he’s a very nice person.” Joseph took his mug over to the coffee pot, topped it off, and then reached out for hers.

  She handed the mug over, noticing the exhaustion in his face as he grabbed the cream and sugar. “Why not?” she asked while he filled up her mug. Holly reached for the spoon, and he slid the sugar over. They made coffee together while talking like old friends, which didn’t happen often when she met someone.

  After he set the coffees at their places, he stretched his shoulders back and relaxed them as if releasing pent up tension. “It’s just a hunch I have. I never knew him.” He turned toward the buttery light coming in from the other room before those dark eyes came back toward her. “Enough about me, though. I don’t want to dampen your spirits. It’s Christmas.” He smiled that million-dollar smile and as she looked at it this time, she wondered if it was authentic or just well practiced.

  Holly held her mug with both hands to keep her warm. The old heater was working overtime in this cold, and even though the rooms were heated, it was as if a winter current still slinked through them, penetrating down to her bones. She considered digging her big wooly socks from her suitcase but didn’t want to wake Nana. Instead, she just hovered over her mug that was covered in mini posters of bars from downtown with Tootsie’s at the center.

  She’d enjoyed herself tonight, and, even in the cold, Joseph made her feel warmer. Conversation with him was effortless, and she liked the way it felt to have his attention on her. “I didn’t expect you to stay up half the night, putting up the tree with me,” she said. “But thank you.”

  “It’s no problem. I don’t sleep a whole lot anyway these days.”

  “I need lots of sleep,” she said with a smile. “Tonight will set me back a whole week. I’ll be out by suppertime tomorrow, just wait and see.” She was just making conversation so they could stay up longer, but she didn’t think she’d be tired at all with him around.

  When she mentioned supper, her mind went to the idea of sharing a meal with him. They could tell stories, maybe she’d be lucky enough to make him laugh—the look he’d given her a few times could melt the ice outside it was so warm-hearted and sincere. This unexpected visitor had already brought so much fresh air into the house that Holly couldn’t help but be hopeful that the snow would keep falling.

  She didn’t have to worry though, she decided. She’d definitely have more time with him, unless the county could get the streets cleared by some miracle. No one had been prepared for the precipitation they were getting, so it seemed they’d all have to stay right where they were.

  “Speaking of dinner,” he said, “we’re really low on food. I was going to try to walk into town and find a market.”

  “I brought a little bit, but, yes, let’s see if we can get to the main road tomorrow.” Holly was being positive, but she wasn’t hopeful about it, even on foot. She’d hardly gotten here tonight the roads were so bad; businesses were closed everywhere; the news on the car radio was full of accidents on both I-65 and tons of the country back roads.

  Reflecting on it, Holly had been stupid to even try to drive in such a mess, but Nana hadn’t seemed this hopeful in years. Holly wondered if, subconsciously, Nana had just wanted to be close to Papa this Christmas. But now, as she looked around, she realized there wasn’t anything left of him here except his request to redo the place that lingered on every surface. Not only could she and Nana no longer get home, but now they’d been thrown together with Joseph Barnes. While she didn’t mind at all, Holly wondered how Nana would react in the morning.

  Holly took a drink from her mug, realizing her tummy had started to feel empty. “I’ve been up so long and the mention of food…” She turned to him. “… I’m starting to get hungry.”

  Joseph glanced toward the kitchen pantry, thoughtful. “I have a few slices left from a sweet potato pie I bought while I was here. We could have some.”

  Holly couldn’t help the grin that crawled across her face at the idea that Joseph had bought himself a pie. “You have sweet potato pie? How very southern of you.”

  He gave her that inquiring look she’d seen him do before. “I’d never had it before, and it sounded good.”

  “It is good! It’s my favorite, actually. I’d eat sweet potato pie instead of cake. Just put a candle in it and pipe my name on the top for my birthday.”

  He laughed. “Well, then, we must have some with our coffees.”

  “I can’t possibly argue with that suggestion.”

  He opened the pantry door and retrieved a box with a window-lid revealing two-thirds of a pie that looked divine. As he turned away and grabbed a pie cutter from the drawer, Holly considered the inconvenience this storm may be causing him as well. He’d been so worried about them, but he, too, was trapped here with strangers, unable to return home.

  “Joseph?” she said to get his attention.

  He swiveled around, those dark eyes landing on her, a quick thought passing over them before he addressed her. “Please, call me Joe. Everybody does.”

  Had their moment of sharing tonight made them no longer seem like strangers to him? She liked that idea. “Joe.” She tried the new name on her lips. “I’m sorry you’re stuck here with us,” she said. “I’m sure you’d like to be home
for Christmas.”

  There was a shift in his expression and then he nodded and turned back to the pie, without answering, making her wonder if she’d said something too personal. But he’d just shared a little about not speaking to his dad earlier… Did he not have anyone to return to for Christmas? Surely he had a family to see.

  “Here you go,” he said, sliding a piece toward her, the sweet cinnamon smell of it absolute perfection. Joe took his own and sat down next to her. “I’m glad I could share this. I wasn’t sure how I was going to eat it all.” He turned his plate, admiring the golden piece of sugary deliciousness. “Although, I was certainly going to try.”

  Holly laughed. “I could definitely eat a whole sweet potato pie if I let myself.” She scraped a forkful, took a bite, and swallowed. “The flavor of this takes me back to my childhood. Nana would make up stacks of pies for the homeless shelters and we’d deliver them together.” Holly had forgotten about it until now. “She hasn’t done that in quite a while.”

  “That’s a kind gesture,” Joe said, the point of his pie already gone. He cut another bite.

  “It might be nice to get her involved in something like that again. She’s been depressed since my papa passed away a couple of years ago. That’s why we’re here: to give her a change of scenery and hopefully, with the Christmas atmosphere, lift her mood.”

  Joe nodded, contemplative.

  The two of them sat in silence for a bit and then Joe looked over at her, his face full of heavy thoughts, she could tell. She felt an instant connection with Joe, wanting to ask him what it was she saw in his eyes. Her rational mind told her it was ridiculous—maybe the lack of sleep had made her delirious. Holly picked up her fork and dragged it along the surface of the pie, making a heart.

  That heaviness lifted when she did that, and Joe studied the drawing she’d made. Then with his own fork, he made a little doodle on his pie.

  “What did you draw?” she asked, leaning over it.

  “You can’t tell?”

  He turned the plate in her direction and Holly noticed how close his arm was to hers, giving her goose bumps. She caught sight of the masculinity of his wrist, the way his watch sat on his skin, the stillness in his fingers, and, over the aroma of the pie, she could make out the tiniest hint of his spicy, sandalwood scent mixed with clean cotton. It was all so delicious.