'Twas the Week Before Christmas

by Olivia Miles

  “Tell me about it,” Holly muttered bitterly, blowing on the steam rising from her mug.

  “I just feel so guilty,” Abby said, tightening her lips. She stared at a framed print on the wall, but her mind was clearly elsewhere.

  “Don’t feel bad,” Holly said mildly. “It’s not your fault.”

  “But I feel like it is in a way,” Abby said, turning to face her. Dark circles had formed beneath her eyes. Holly realized with a sinking heart that Abby hadn’t slept either. “First I pushed you on him, despite your apprehensions, and then I didn’t listen to the little voice in my head that told me something was amiss.”

  “You did come and warn me,” Holly reminded her.

  “The way Max was talking to the mayor...something wasn’t right. And instead of following through, I let it drop.”

  “Because I wanted you to,” Holly said. “I wanted you to let it drop.”

  Abby held her gaze, unwilling to relinquish responsibility. “I should have known better,” she chastised herself.

  “Stop,” Holly ordered gently. “You’re a good friend. The best I could ask for. There is nothing you could have done differently. You did what you thought was best. Honestly.”

  Abby wasn’t persuaded. “If you say so.”

  “I do,” Holly said. “Besides, we both know who the real culprits are here.”

  Abby narrowed her eyes and fixed her gaze on the framed print once more. “When I think of the way that guy had us all fooled, it makes me sick.”

  Holly sipped her tea, which was sweetened with an almost overly generous amount of honey. She set it carefully down on the nightstand so as to not spill. “It isn’t like Max acted alone, Abby. Lucy and George are just as responsible.”

  “I don’t know who to be more upset with,” Abby confessed. “Lucy has been such a dear friend to both of us. Why would she do this?”

  “I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” Holly said, suddenly feeling weary. No amount of scouring for answers was going to change the outcome or explain away the decision.

  “Money,” Abby commented bitterly.

  “Probably.”

  Abby shifted on the bed, tucking a slippered foot up under her. “See, but that’s what makes no sense!” she said, leaning in toward Holly. “You know the Millers don’t care about getting rich. It doesn’t add up.”

  Holly gave a listless shrug. “Does it matter why they did it?”

  Abby’s lips thinned. “I guess not.”

  They lapsed into silence, each consumed with confusion and misery, hurt and unanswered questions. It was Holly who finally broke the silence.

  Thinking aloud, she said, “Max did say something interesting last night.”

  Abby peered at her sharply. “What was that?”

  “He said the project still had to go before the planning committee.”

  “Huh.”

  For a fleeting moment, Holly felt her heart swell with a twinge of hope, only to feel it deflate just as quickly when reality came rushing in. “I guess it doesn’t make a difference, though. Max bought the land. The Millers accepted the offer. Whether the mall gets built or not doesn’t change anything. It is what it is.”

  “When is this planning committee meeting?” Abby asked.

  Holly shrugged. “Who knows. But again, it doesn’t matter.”

  Abby exhaled a breath. Her shoulders slumped. “Guess not.”

  “Do you mind if I stay here a little while longer?” Holly reached for her tea and choked down a sweet sip. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and that meant that tomorrow was her last real day in her home. It just didn’t seem possible. “The thought of going back there right now...I can’t bear it. It’s too painful. If I went back it would just be harder to leave. Why prolong the inevitable?”

  “Is he still there?” Abby voiced the same question Holly herself wondered.

  “I told him to leave,” Holly replied.

  “Good.” Abby’s face was red with fury. “I can’t even believe he had the nerve to stay at your inn, knowing what he had in store for it!” She clenched her jaw and grunted in disgust. “He has no heart.”

  Holly said nothing. A stir of unease rolled through her stomach. She reached once more for the tea, hoping the sweet honey would help, but it was no use. As much as she wanted to believe that Max had no heart, something deep within her knew it wasn’t so. She had seen the pain in his eyes last night. She had seen the anguish and the guilt.

  But then why did he do it?

  She had thought their connection was real. He had felt it, too; she was sure of it. He wouldn’t have opened up to her like that otherwise. He wouldn’t have looked so helpless when she discovered the truth.

  “He wanted to tell me,” Holly thought aloud.

  Abby turned to her, her expression impassive. “What do you mean?”

  “He wanted to tell me. Last night, when I went back to the inn, he was trying to tell me something. And then George called.”

  Abby looked pained. “But why did he do it, Holly? Why string you along if he was planning this the entire time? Why be nice to you?”

  “Why kiss me?” Holly added.

  Abby shook her head. “Maybe he was really torn.”

  “Maybe,” Holly said quietly. “But I guess it doesn’t matter. In the end, he still decided to make the offer on the property. Knowing what it meant to me.”

  “In a way, that’s worse.”

  Holly nodded slowly. “Yes. It really was.”

  But then, what else could she expect from someone who didn’t believe in family?

  Abby huffed out a breath. “I suppose I should go get showered. Are you going to rest a little longer?”

  Holly nodded and pulled the quilt up tighter around her shoulders. She couldn’t think about facing the day just yet. That required doing things and going places. She had nowhere to go. And nothing to do.

  The inn. She hadn’t even thought about it in the haze of her grief. The inn would have to be closed down. She would have to refund dozens of reservations.

  “You stay here as long as you want,” Abby said with a reassuring smile. “You’ll get back on your feet again. Until then, our home is your home.”

  “Thanks,” Holly said, managing a weak smile. She knew Abby was trying to be kind, but she couldn’t ward off the ache in her chest. She loved Abby, and she was grateful to have a place to stay. But it wasn’t the same.

  She just wanted to be home for Christmas.

  * * *

  Max rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch. Somewhere during the night he had managed to fall asleep. He hadn’t thought it possible with the way his mind was racing.

  He knew he shouldn’t be here. He should have left, as he said he would, but he couldn’t. Not until Holly returned. Not until he had his final say with her.

  Pulling himself off the couch where he had spent the night, he stumbled over to the massive fir tree and crouched down to inspect the gifts. His pulse quickened when he saw one labeled with his name.

  Holly.

  After a beat, he picked it up. The box was heavier than he had expected it to be somehow. There was a sturdy weight to it. On instinct, he shook it, feeling the hidden object shift slightly. He set the box back under the tree, smiling at himself for this childish indulgence before a sweet sadness crept in once more.

  He couldn’t remember the last time someone had given him a Christmas present. It was such a small, simple gesture. So very much like Holly to do.

  Rolling back on his heels, Max stood and looked around the empty lobby. Only a few days ago the room had been buzzing and alive, filled with Christmas music and a pleasant buzz from the guests’ cheerful conversation. Now the house was still and vacant. Everyone was gone, except for him. And he had no right
being here.

  Wasn’t this exactly how the rest of his life had unfolded? He had built himself an empire, and he was living in it alone. The White Barn Inn was no different.

  He had hoped that Holly would have come back during the night, and he had waited in the lobby for her. What he would say when he saw her, he didn’t know. But he needed to see her. It was an all-consuming need. He couldn’t let her go.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket to call her and realized with a strange pang that he didn’t even know her phone number. She was probably at Abby’s house, but he didn’t know where that was. He could ask someone in town, he supposed, but what would he even say when got there? There was nothing he could say that could take back what he did.

  The memory of her parting words rang out, echoing in the empty corridors of this old mansion. She would never forgive him.

  And why should she? He had taken the one thing that meant the most from her. He’d taken everything from her.

  Max’s stomach churned with self-loathing. Was this really who he was? The person he had become? He had tried so hard to better his life. To redeem his childhood. But this wasn’t the man he had set out to be.

  * * *

  It took Max only fifteen minutes to get to the Millers’ cottage. He took the icy porch stairs two at a time and tapped his knuckles firmly on the door. A tearful Lucy Miller pulled it open. Her brow creased when she saw him standing on her porch.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Lucy. Is George here?”

  “He’s at the diner,” Lucy said, holding the door open wider so that he could enter.

  Max stepped into the cramped living room. It was only his third time here, but already it felt familiar. The Millers were kind people, and it sickened him that he had dragged them into this.

  “I need to speak with George, if possible.”

  Sensing the urgency in his tone, Lucy nodded solemnly. “I’ll just call him,” she said, ducking into the kitchen. From behind the thin wall, Max could hear her frantic whisper. “He’s coming right over,” she announced, reemerging. “Can I get you some coffee?”

  Max managed a grateful smile. “Coffee would be great.”

  “I think I’ll join you,” she said. She disappeared once more before quickly returning with two mugs. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night,” she confessed, coming to sit across from him.

  “That makes two of us then,” he said, taking a hearty gulp. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins and the caffeine made him shaky.

  A pounding of footsteps was heard quickly clambering up the porch stairs and the door swung open to reveal George Miller, his face creased with confused. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  “Come sit down, George,” Lucy quietly commanded. She turned her attention back to Max. “My nerves can’t take much more, Max. If you wouldn’t mind telling us why you’re here, I’d appreciate it. Has the planning committee already decided? Was all this for nothing?”

  “No, it’s not that.” Max set the empty mug on the end table and leaned forward on his knees, feeling more clear-headed than he had in years, despite the lack of sleep. He stole a glance at the Millers, who were sitting side by side, clutching hands. Lucy’s knuckles were white and her face colorless. Realizing they were waiting for him to explain, he cleared his throat. “I need to let you both know that I no longer plan to present the project to the planning committee.”

  The Millers turned to face each other. Max could see the mixture of panic and relief in their eyes. Before they could protest, he held up a hand. “I am a man of my word, believe it or not. I offered you a price for the land and I chose to back out. The money is still yours to keep.”

  The Millers exchanged another glance. Lucy nodded her head, silently communicating with her husband and George turned to meet Max’s stare. “This wasn’t an easy decision for my wife and me to make, Max. Lucy here has been crying for days over this. We agonized about selling this land to you, when we had already given our word to Holly Tate. She’s our friend, and a member of this community.”

  “I understand that,” Max said, his voice low.

  “But the thing is...” George’s voice failed him. He swallowed hard, collecting himself. “The thing is that Lucy and I have another responsibility that extends beyond Holly. And that’s our son. And our town.”

  Max squinted, trying to follow their logic. He nodded for George to continue.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard about the library fire,” George said. “But what you probably don’t know is that our son is responsible.”

  “It was an accident! He was smoking behind the library,” Lucy interjected desperately.

  A wave of shock slapped him, leaving him momentarily speechless as he struggled to comprehend the multiple layers of the Millers’ situation. His expression, he knew, revealed his astonishment. “Does anyone else know?” he asked, trying to piece the facts together.

  Lucy shook her head, lowering her gaze. “No. But it wouldn’t have felt right to let it go. We...we needed to do something to set things right. But not at the expense of our son. He has an entire future ahead of him. I had dreams of him going to college in a couple of years! He’s a smart boy...and we hoped he would get a football scholarship.”

  Max nodded. “You won’t have any trouble sending him to college now,” he said.

  “We didn’t know what we were going to do, but we knew we didn’t want to keep this a secret forever. We kept thinking that if we could just pull the money together we could set it right... My father runs a construction business here, but he’s not well and I’m afraid to burden him with this. We want to pay for it ourselves, to do the right thing, but the diner doesn’t bring in enough. And when your offer came to us...” Lucy trailed off, swallowing back tears. “It was both a blessing and a curse.”

  “The money is still yours,” Max reiterated. “You can send Bobby to college now. You don’t have to worry about anyone finding out what happened.”

  “No,” George said. “We’re fair people. Honest. It might not seem like it, but we are. We’ll go through with the sale of the land, Max. But we have a new condition.”

  Max sat and listened, first in awe, then in wonder, as the Millers detailed their wishes. When they had agreed to everything, Max stood to leave, feeling a hundred pounds lighter. It was time to go back to the inn, and time to let the Millers get back to their life.

  “But, what will you do with the land?” Lucy asked as Max shrugged into his parka.

  “I don’t think I will do anything with it after all,” he said.

  Lucy followed him to the door, her brow pinched in thought. “Can I ask why?” she asked softly. She raised her eyes to meet his, searching his face in confusion.

  Max gave her a small smile. “Holly has come to mean a great deal to me in the short time I’ve been here,” he said. The words were true, but it felt foreign to be speaking them aloud.

  Lucy beamed and reached out to touch his arm. “She has a way of doing that to people.”

  Max nodded and turned, walking down the stairs and back to his car, chuckling at the irony of the situation. He had spent his entire adult life pushing people away. How on earth did he end up falling in love with someone he had known for only a matter of days?

  Chapter Twelve

  As a child, Christmas Eve had always been Holly’s favorite day of the year, even more so than Christmas Day. By noon on Christmas Day, the presents had been opened and excitement had peaked. But Christmas Eve was the epitome of anticipation and hope, of dreams yet to come true, of magic yet to be made.

  But this year was different. There was nothing to look forward to now. No preparations to be made. This year it just felt like the beginning of the end.

  Holly pulled onto the long drive and parked. Even though she’d been away for only two nights, it was
the longest she had been away from the inn since she’d moved to Maple Woods. She stared at the property, already missing it, wondering if she would ever get used to being away from it.

  It had been a long time since she had stopped to look at the old house from this distance. Sitting in the car at the edge of the estate, she felt almost in awe of its grandness of scale, its richness of history. She’d spent the first few days of December wrapping the posts in garland, carefully hanging a wreath on each of the windows and the front door. It didn’t seem possible that somewhere in the near future, the house would be demolished and in its place would be a shopping mall of all things.

  She shifted the gears and slowly crept up the drive, allowing her eyes to roam over the acreage. From the snow-covered blueberry bushes to the white barn far to the side, barely visible against the snow from this vantage point. She loved that barn—from its cheerful red doors to the weathervane standing proudly on the roof. Behind it was the pond, now frozen over for the winter. On a normal day, she would be down there skating, tracing figure eights into the ice. When she was a child, she and Abby would swim in the cool, murky water while her grandmother sat under an umbrella on an old plastic chair, flipping through fashion magazines and sipping sun tea.

  Holly’s heart tightened. She wondered what would happen to the pond. They’d probably fill it, pave it over.

  As she finally neared the top of the drive, she couldn’t help noticing Max’s car was gone, and she felt strangely sad about it. The feeling was fleeting, but confusing in its effect on her. She was just disoriented and exhausted, she knew. She had gotten used to looking forward to seeing him and missing him when he wasn’t there.

  She pulled her car around to the back of the house and climbed out into the crisp air. A biting wind slapped at her cheeks and stung her eyes. Crunching through the snow to the front of the house for what would probably be the last time, she felt her heart sink further as her mind flitted back to Max. He had seemed so sincere! She’d thought she had softened his hardened heart. But maybe some hearts were just permanently damaged.