by Jenny Hale
“Sometimes I wonder if I actually want a partner,” Beth said seriously, leaning on her forearms, her face crinkled as she pondered the idea. “Is it really all that it’s cracked up to be?”
“It is if you find the right person,” Gran told her. “And by the right person, I mean the one human being on the planet who knows all your thoughts, and who tells you all of his, under no judgment at all. I understand why Blue is slow to find someone because when you find that person, it’s as if you’ve found the other part of yourself that you hadn’t realized, until that moment, had been missing your whole life. An opportunity to find someone like that doesn’t come around every day.”
“I’m already doubting the accountant. This method just isn’t romantic to me.”
Gran pinched a cookie from the plate, her amusement clear. “Romance can sneak up on you. Pappy was a small-parts salesman at the local hardware store when I met him. I’m so glad I didn’t judge his ability to be interesting by his job choice.” She chuckled.
“What did make you fall in love with him, Gran?” Scarlett asked. “Was there one thing?”
“Mmm.” She closed her eyes briefly and set her cookie down on the small plate in front of her. “We were so young… I worked at the bookshop across from the hardware store. It was pouring rain, the sky growling and angry. I stepped outside to move the welcome mat that always got slippery whenever it was wet, and the door slammed shut with a swirling gust of wind and locked behind me, shutting me out of the shop.”
Stitches jumped into Gran’s lap and Scarlett noticed the trembling in the old woman’s hands as she stroked the cat, giving away the grief that still lingered whenever she mentioned Pappy. Even the day of the funeral, however, all she’d wanted to do was to talk about him, to tell happy stories about their life together.
“Your pappy came jogging across the street with an umbrella. I recognized him immediately because he shopped at our store all the time, always looking for a new book. I wondered quite often how slow business was at the hardware store if he was able to read so many books so quickly,” she said with a nostalgic smile. “He offered to get me a cup of tea to warm me up, and then suggested we could use the phone at the café to call the manager to let me back in.
“He locked up the hardware store and turned over the hanging sign that said he was out to lunch, and we walked together under his umbrella all the way to the café where he bought us sandwiches and tea. We talked for far longer than we should have before we both decided it was time to give my manager a call and open the stores back up. I thanked him and told him that I’d buy him a book to show my appreciation.” She laughed at the memory, an untold humor registering for her.
“He refused, and I couldn’t understand why. It was only the cost of a book, and he read so much. I started to think that perhaps I was being too forward, that my absolute enjoyment of our lunch was one-sided, and he was just being a Good Samaritan. Later, he told me that he’d continuously bought reading material from the shop, trying to work up the nerve to speak to me. You know all those old books on the built-in bookshelf in my office? Your pappy put that bookshelf in. It’s the exact size necessary to hold every single book he bought from me when I worked at the bookshop. He saved them because he said that each book represented one day more he could’ve had with me if he’d just mustered the courage to say hello. As we moved through life together, any time he faced a big decision, he always went to the chair next to the bookshelf to think. It was his way of telling himself to go for it. Our destiny comes from the chances we take.”
Scarlett couldn’t think of a single time when she’d been faced with a major decision like that. Definitely never with a significant other, and never with work either. She had a great job, but she’d taken it because it was a step above the last one she had. That had been the only deciding factor. She’d played it safe her entire life, never shooting for anything grander than the status quo. But what should she be shooting for? She hadn’t found her passion yet. Hearing Gran’s story inspired her to keep her eyes open for it.
Eleven
Christmas music played softly over the speakers throughout White Oaks. Fires roared in both fireplaces—one in the grand living room and another in the central parlor.
The tables had been set up along the walls of the parlor, their crisp white tablecloths nearly hidden by a Christmas spread fit for a king: plates of gingerbread cookies, peppermint bark, and assorted sugar cookies lined the edges, and in the center a golden turkey, sliced and garnished on a silver platter, anchored the other plates and bowls surrounding it. Cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, green beans and ham, dressing, buttered biscuits and cornbread, bowls of chestnuts, and pecan and pumpkin pies with silver Christmas servers already placed under the first slice, were mouthwateringly ready for the crowds. Gran had outdone herself this time.
Outside, the trees were alight in a dazzling spectacle of white sparkles against the black sky, and Blue had just set out the final luminaries, all of them creating a mass of dancing lights that snaked along the hills all the way up to the inn. The Christmas trees sparkled from inside, making it look like a holiday postcard.
Cappy and his wife Jess had already arrived, bringing kegs of beer to set up in the kitchen, each oak barrel wrapped in fresh cypress greenery. The sight of the foliage along with the spread of food and beer was uniquely reminiscent of all the Smoky Mountain Christmases Scarlett had enjoyed over the years.
June had also come with the paper products that she donated every year from the market. Ato surprised them all this year with individually whittled wooden ornaments of the various types of trees in the area. He’d meticulously researched them, each tree ornately carved and tied with a red ribbon, displayed in a wooden bowl to match, that Gran happily placed on the small table at the door with a sign that said: “Thank you for coming.”
Preston was setting up a small display on a nearby table as well. Every year, he made singles of different Christmas songs and put them on CDs for anyone who wanted them. Most everyone took one each year, and Loretta would scarf up the remaining ones so that she could pass them out to potential female suitors.
“How do I look?” Aunt Beth said, fiddling with her hair as she tried to view her reflection in the framed artwork on the wall in the living room.
“You look great, Aunt Beth,” Heidi said. She was cross-legged on the sofa, her phone in hand, as if this were any other night.
“You really do,” Scarlett said, putting her arm around Beth.
“So do you,” Beth told her.
Scarlett had her jeans and red sweater on, and her hair was curled in large waves and tied back loosely, the way she liked to do on festive occasions.
“Dressing up for anyone in particular?” Beth asked with a wink.
“Aunt Beth…” Scarlett said, feeling her face flush, betraying her. She had no reason to get ready for anyone other than herself. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want him to be there tonight. “Charlie hasn’t even said for certain that he’s coming.”
“I’m here,” Charlie said from behind her.
Scarlett’s knees went weak with the thought that he’d just overheard their conversation. She’d only mentioned Charlie’s name because Aunt Beth had insinuated that she’d fixed her hair for his benefit. She turned around slowly, trying to quiet her hammering heart.
“I’m so glad,” Scarlett said, proud of her composure. “I’d love to have Gran answer some of the questions you had about White Oaks. She has so many wonderful stories about this inn.” Perhaps if she could get Gran talking about the inn, Charlie could charm Gran before she had a chance to say something that might jeopardize any possible interest he might have.
“Cappy told me that people in town all bring things to the party,” he said. “So I brought something for the people I know.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised. “What did you bring?”
He pointed to a small pile of red and navy velvet boxes tied with bows. “I got ev
eryone silver Christmas ornaments today. The women’s boxes are the red ones. They’re getting a glass Christmas tree. The men will receive silver bells.”
“My goodness,” she said, trying to process the fact that Charlie had spent quite a bit on gifts for acquaintances. “Those are really nice gifts.”
“I wasn’t sure what everyone was bringing after those huge prizes at The Bar, and I had a little bit saved up for… Christmas gifts.”
“For Christmas gifts,” she repeated, knowing that was a lie. He didn’t even have a tree, nor had he planned to do anything other than sit in that empty cottage for the holiday.
He stared at her, and the look on his face told her that he knew she didn’t buy it for a second.
“You saved up for Christmas gifts when you weren’t planning to celebrate Christmas?”
“Yes,” he said, the “s” coming out in almost a hiss as he clearly decided his next move.
Why was he lying? He was certainly careful about what he told her and what he didn’t, Scarlett could tell that much. Gran’s warning came back to her. Scarlett didn’t really know him, did she? There were glimpses of a wonderful man, but he was so secretive that she doubted her gut feeling about him.
“And let me guess, you don’t want to tell me about it.”
He shook his head, that vulnerability she’d seen before rushing back into his eyes.
Gran, who could read people so well, had decided that Charlie might not be the person Scarlett thought he was. And Scarlett couldn’t stand behind him if he wasn’t going to be honest with her. The situation made her head start to pound. Maybe this idea that Charlie would come in and make White Oaks great again, become its charismatic spokesperson, and help the inn to thrive—perhaps it was all just wishful thinking. He might not be the one for the job. Which left Scarlett feeling lost again, the way she had at Aunt Alice’s that night when they’d all decided to sell.
But as she remembered Gran’s advice—Our destiny comes from the chances we take—she realized she hadn’t given this her all. “Come with me,” she said, grabbing Charlie by the elbow and leading him to the hallway. “We need to talk.”
Scarlett stopped outside of the back sunroom, an entire room of paned windows at the rear of the house glistening with starlight, the sky having cleared for the moment. The stars and the twinkle lights outside made it feel as if magic surrounded them. Christmas music played softly above them. She dropped down onto the white wicker sofa, the soft navy cushions giving way to her bodyweight. Charlie sat beside her, intrigued, waiting for an explanation.
“I just want to tell you that I’m an amazing secret keeper,” she said. “My best friend told me a secret in middle school and I still haven’t told anyone.”
The corner of his mouth turned up in amusement, like it did whenever he was truly enjoying what she was saying. “What was the secret?”
She laughed. “I’m not telling you! I’ve kept that secret for two decades. There’s no way I’m letting it out now.”
“Do you still know her?” he asked.
“No. We lost touch our eighth-grade year when she moved to upstate New York.”
“Then why wouldn’t you tell me? I don’t know her. Why does it matter if you keep the secret?”
She looked him dead in the eyes. “Because she asked me to.” Scarlett scooted closer to Charlie. “You can tell me whatever it is that you’re holding in. I won’t tell anyone, and I won’t judge you.”
He leaned back, his fingers spread out on his knees.
“You said yourself that there are some things you don’t get to do again. You’re stuck in this moment—whatever it is. It’s got a hold of you. This is a perfect time to get it off your chest.”
He didn’t move.
“What was that money for?” she pressed. “And why did you decide to spend it on ornaments for near strangers? It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
He sat up. “I can’t do something nice for people?”
“Yes, you can, but you’ve done so much already. All that money for the girls’ and boys’ home—Sue told me—the enormous donation to the charity of her choice, and now the ornaments… That’s a lot of giving in one season, don’t you think?”
“It’s my money to give.”
“I understand that, but there’s some reason for your extravagant giving, and you aren’t telling me what it is.”
“I just want to make people happy.”
She wondered if it was because he hadn’t been able to make Amos happy, so she asked, “Does this have anything to do with your dad?”
He seemed disoriented by her question. “No. It has nothing to do with him at all.”
“Then what could be so bad that you can’t tell me?” Charlie had opened up about his strained relationship with his father in painstaking detail. But this was something he couldn’t tell her, for whatever reason. What had he possibly done that was worse than deserting his father?
“Look, I was saving that money and the money I put toward donations to repay someone, but it never worked out, and I can’t bear to hold on to it anymore. It’s not the fact that what I’ve done is so bad that I can’t tell you. It’s that the money is from a time I’d rather forget because of the pain it causes me every time I’m reminded of it. The money shouldn’t go to me; it needs to go toward some kind of good. Now please, let it go.”
“Why won’t you talk about it?”
His eyes glistened with emotion before he cleared it by clenching his jaw and breathing in deeply through his nose. He swallowed, clearly struggling to get the statement out. “I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of. And every time I think about it, it tears me apart inside, and I’m trying to move on.” He stood up. “Let’s go back to the party. I want to immerse myself in light conversation, laugh, and eat Christmas cookies.”
Scarlett had given it everything she had, and Charlie wasn’t budging. Maybe she’d never know his secret, but until she did, she couldn’t be clear on the future of White Oaks. And there were no other options for the inn at the moment. What was she going to do?
Everyone was gathered around tables in the main hall at the front of the house, a different one of Gran’s Christmas games going on at each one. Every year, Gran worked tirelessly to create around fifteen games—it took her all season to come up with new ones that she added to old favorites. Each game allowed about six people to play, and most of the games were already full, so Scarlett looked around the room for any two empty seats she could find that were together. She pointed to the table full of tiny sample cookies from Constantine’s Bakery. Loretta and Sarah were at that table, along with Ato.
“You wanted to eat Christmas cookies, right?” Scarlett asked Charlie as he stepped up beside her.
“Yes.” He looked down at her quizzically. “What are they doing?”
“It’s kind of like bingo but you play with a partner. You and I will be against the other pairs. Under each cookie is a token for your game board. The goal of the game is to see if you can find the cookie that matches the description on the card. But you have to do it faster than the other teams and get four in a row.” She grabbed his arm, leading him to the table. “They’re just starting.”
“Hi!” Loretta said as they sat down, her gaze bouncing between the two of them. “Glad you could join us.” She tipped her head up to scan the crowd. “We need one more player so we can make even teams. Oh! There’s Preston! He played this with me last year.” She started waving her hand madly in the air, calling his name.
He made his way over to them through the crowd, a wary look hiding under his polite smile.
“Sit with us,” Loretta offered. “We need one more. I can pair up with Ato and you can be with Sarah,” she said, scooting over one chair and patting the now empty seat between her and her cousin. He sat down, evidently unable to find an excuse.
“I’m so happy to see you,” Loretta said to him as she passed the team their game cards.
A tiny spark of contentmen
t showed on Preston’s face. He leaned just slightly toward her, his hand on the table, their fingers mere inches from one another. There was so much feeling in his eyes that Scarlett couldn’t believe no one had noticed before. “You are?”
“Yes,” she said. “You haven’t had a real chance to talk to Sarah yet and I’m thinking that tonight you’ll finally get some one-on-one time.”
Preston slowly withdrew his hand and set it in his lap. “I’m playing songs tonight,” he said, feigning regret. “Not much time to talk.”
His gaze fluttered over to Sarah only briefly before landing back on Loretta with full force. Sarah seemed to notice that there was something going on with Preston, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she picked up the card that she and Preston would be sharing. Preston leaned over to view it as well.
“Wait,” he said, peering down at it. “Loretta and Ato should trade cards with us.”
“Why?” Sarah asked.
He tapped two of the clues. “This card has both macaroons and ladyfingers on it. Those are Loretta’s two favorite cookies.” He regarded Loretta with unspoken words, and Scarlett was delighted to see him putting his feelings out there just a little bit. She hoped Loretta would notice.
“You just gave them the answers!” Sarah said, amused. She had a youthful innocence to her, but she seemed quite perceptive as she took in Preston’s energy toward Loretta.
“It’s fine. She’ll need all the help she can get playing against me,” he teased.
Loretta’s entire demeanor seemed to lift in response to his lighthearted comment. “Oh, please,” she said, playfully rolling her eyes. “My team won this game last year.”
Preston let out a loud laugh. “That’s because I helped you!”
“You did not. You ate the wrong cookie on purpose.”
“I ate the other team’s cookie by accident! But it meant the other team had to start over, didn’t it? Which put them behind, and you and Cappy won.”