Christmas Comes to Dickens

by Nancy Fraser

  “I think she should,” Nic said gruffly. “Where to next?”

  “Last stop, Holly Hill Inn, where we were earlier. There are usually a few guests staying there on their own and Kat, the owner, likes to make sure everyone has something to open in the morning.”

  “It must really feel good, making a difference in other people’s lives the way you do.”

  “I enjoy being involved,” Holly said. “Christmas is about joy, yet some people find it a very difficult time.”

  “I don’t mean just Christmas,” Nic said. “You also capture some of their happiest moments in life, commemorate a memory so they have it forever.”

  “I don’t make the memory,” Holly said, “I just help preserve it.” She slanted him a look. “It’s not like I’m ridding the streets of criminals or whatever it is you do to uphold justice.”

  “I used to think what I did was really important,” Nic said. “But there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes. Plea bargains. Leniency in exchange for damning testimony. One criminal will turn on another so fast your head would spin, and the bad guys don’t always get locked up.”

  “Don’t the good guys always win?” Holly said lightly.

  “We try,” Nic said. “No justice system is perfect.”

  Where had all this come from? He hadn’t realized until this moment just how dissatisfied he’d been feeling lately. As he drove, he snuck a glance at Holly. She had a way of digging stuff out of him that he didn’t know was in there. How did she do that? Almost as if she knew him better than he knew himself; or had known him a really long time.

  He stopped the van in front of the B&B. “The outside lights are still on.”

  “I know.” Holly pulled on her gloves as she spoke. Red, he noticed, just like her hat and scarf. Her coat was green. Red and green like a holly tree. Why had he only noticed that now? Because he was a self-absorbed workaholic, one who had just had his entire world, his entire existence, turned upside down.

  “This is the last stop and it’s tricky. Some of the guests might still be up.”

  “Has anyone ever caught you in the act?”

  “Thankfully, no,” Holly said. “We all need a little Christmas magic to believe in.”

  Christmas magic, Nic thought as he opened the van and gathered the last few gifts. Maybe that’s what was making him feel lightheaded.

  He followed Holly through the snow to the heavily shadowed side of the inn where the door opened directly into the front parlor with its huge, decorated tree. “This way we get in and out fast,” she said.

  Quickly and quietly, they arranged the gifts they had brought alongside the others beneath the tree. He heard a creak overhead that sounded like it came from the staircase and looked over at Holly, who had heard it as well. Without a word, the two of them scuttled into a nearby alcove, out of sight if anyone came into the room.

  Nic looked up. If that wasn’t fortuitous. Mistletoe! He pulled Holly into his arms as somewhere on the other side of the house, a clock chimed midnight.

  “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his lips an inch from hers. Then he kissed her.

  Holly wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back as if her life depended on it. As if she was starving and he was food. Her need fueled his, and he chafed in frustration at the layers of clothing between them. He needed her. Wanted her. All of her. Forever!

  He froze. Where had that thought come from? They’d only met yesterday. He couldn’t possibly feel this way so quickly. Then his traitorous body betrayed him, convincing him that anything was possible with the magic of Christmas.

  HOLLY SNUCK SILENT, sideways glances at Nico as he drove back to town. Normally she felt elated—another successful Christmas delivery behind her—while Christmas day lay ahead. She got a rush imagining the excitement and joy of the next morning; the small part she played.

  Tonight, she just felt confused.

  They reached town a short time later, where the soft peal of Christmas bells sent a few stragglers rushing to midnight mass. The carolers had left, but the Common was still ablaze with lights. The town reverberated with an air of peace and serenity that Holly had always enjoyed as she returned from her rounds. Tonight felt different.

  Or was it simply the emotions churning around inside her? The joy of spending Christmas Eve with Nico, coupled with the bleakness of knowing that in less than two days he would return to his life in the city, while her life would never be the same.

  It wasn’t fair. He’d disrupted her life once, years ago. Now, he was doing it all over again.

  As she studied his profile, he turned a soft smile her way, as if he felt her eyes on him.

  “I really enjoyed tonight. Thanks for letting me tag along,” he said. “Somewhere over the years, I lost sight of the true meaning of Christmas.”

  Holly froze. He’d said those exact words to her in New York.

  WHEN NICO FOLLOWED her inside, Holly got the distinct feeling he had no intention of leaving. And suddenly she didn’t want him to. Normally, as the rush of elation dissipated, she was left with a drained feeling that came after. But not tonight. Not with the way Nico was looking at her.

  “I’ll light a fire,” he said, going over to the fireplace and setting up paper and kindling as if he’d been doing it all his life.

  “I’ll make some tea. Or would you rather have hot chocolate?”

  He turned her way, still squatting by the fire, and his expression tugged at something deep inside her. “I’d rather have you.”

  It took everything in Holly to laugh off his words and limp into the kitchen where she filled the kettle and put it on to boil. Her hands were as unsteady as her heartbeat as she leaned over the sink, schooling herself to get a grip.

  Did she want that, too? Did she want Nico for this one night if that was all she could have?

  Unsure, but feeling more composed, she turned and blundered straight into him. He dwarfed her small kitchen, just like he had that night in New York.

  “Sorry,” he said ruefully. “That was a really cheesy thing to say, and I’m not normally that guy.”

  Holly pushed an unsteady hand through her hair, and stared at the expensive buttons fronting his denim shirt. “I know that.”

  Neither of them moved, yet the air between them seemed to crackle. She could hear the thud of her heart, pumping blood through her veins. Or was that his heart, beating in tandem with hers?

  She watched as Nico moved in slow motion, his hand beneath her chin, tipping her face up to his.

  “I’m not sure if it’s just the holiday season, but I’m kind of at a loss right now. It’s late and I know I ought to go, but something in me is clamoring to stay for as long as you’ll have me.”

  A lifetime, Holly thought. She wanted him to stay for a lifetime.

  “I know,” she said. “Let’s heat up the rest of the pizza.”

  “Great idea.”

  And just like that, the mood was broken. Nico stepped back while Holly switched on the oven and made tea, after which Nico helped carry cups and plates through to the living room.

  Once there, Holly caught her breath. The fire crackled invitingly. Nico had pulled the couch in front of it, along with the coffee table, and lit her candle display on the mantle.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he said huskily. “I took a few liberties.”

  She put the teapot down before she dropped it. “I don’t mind at all.”

  They’d eaten pizza that night in New York, one from her freezer that had been there longer than she remembered and tasted like cardboard, but neither of them had cared. They’d been lost in the moment, lost in each other, and it was happening all over again.

  Tonight, the pizza tasted better, and she had a larger home complete with a fireplace and Christmas tree, but until Nico had shown up, something had always been missing. But not any more. Tonight, everything felt complete.

  As they talked, she learned a lot had changed in Nico’s life since last time they were toge
ther. He had made partner in the firm where he worked, and had defended some high-profile cases that even she had heard about. He didn’t mention a girlfriend or a romantic life, and she didn’t ask.

  “That was good,” she said as she reached for her tea; nothing left in the pizza box but crumbs.

  “Pizza is always better the second day,” Nico said. “Except—” He paused, his gaze directed over her head and off in the distance, as if a distant memory was tugging at him. Holly cleared her throat.

  He blinked and came back to her, as with one easy movement, he pulled her close, snuggled against his side. “This is better, too,” he said.

  Holly couldn’t argue.

  “How’d you wind up in Dickens?” he asked. “I know Sherry moved here because of her husband’s work, and moved our mother with them.”

  “Would you believe I googled ‘best small towns to live in the US?’”

  “Get out!”

  “I kid you not. My sister lives a few towns over, and I wanted to be close but not that close. I was tired of the anonymity of the big city. Given a name like mine, I’ve always been drawn to all things Christmas, so this town had me from my first visit. I started off doing some freelance photo work for the paper, then met some of the locals, and eventually hung out my shingle as a photographer.”

  Nico was looking down at her with admiration. “That is one gutsy move. To just show up and start over. What about what you left behind? Friends or—”

  Holly shifted to face him. “I’ll always have my memories,” she said softly.

  “I’m really glad I came to visit this year,” Nico said.

  “What took you so long?” Holly asked.

  Her words held a double-meaning that he wouldn’t recognize. Why did it take him so long to find her?

  “I don’t even have an excuse,” Nico said. Again, his eyes got that faraway look. “I think maybe I was looking in the wrong place for something that didn’t exist.”

  “Would you care to elaborate?” Holly asked.

  “Mostly, I didn’t want to feel like a third wheel at Sherry’s Christmas with her husband,” he said lightly.

  Third wheel meant there was no girlfriend.

  “That wouldn’t matter to Sherry. Christmas is all about family.”

  “So they tell us.” He turned a speculative look her way. “Where’s yours? Family I mean.”

  “My sister is with a new beau. My mother is somewhere warm with an old beau—” She chuckled. “I guess I see what you mean.”

  Nico was nodding knowingly. “See? You didn’t want to be a third wheel any more than I did.”

  “At least I put up a tree,” Holly said. “And accepted a dinner invitation from friends. I’m not sitting around alone being Scrooge.”

  Nico nodded. “Not to mention your Christmas project doing for others. Clearly, you are a far better person than I am.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Holly said, smothering a yawn.

  “Ever sit up all night talking?” Nico asked abruptly.

  “I did once. Why?”

  He grinned. “Want to go for two?”

  “I think maybe once was enough,” Holly said. “We could never recreate that magic.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “The stuff of dreams,” Holly murmured, snuggling closer to Nico.

  He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “I’ll never forget this night.”

  Yes, you will, Holly thought, just before she fell asleep, cozy and safe in Nico’s arms for the second time in her life.

  Chapter 8

  NIC WOKE UP, HIS ARM beneath Holly asleep, the fire dead in the grate, and the soft gray light of dawn visible through the window. Gently, he disentangled himself from the woman in his arms, rose and stretched.

  He had no business feeling so good after a cramped night on Holly’s couch, but he truly had had the best sleep he remembered in years. Maybe ever. He looked down at Holly, still sound asleep. Something about the way she slept, curled up like a kitten, niggled at his brain. It all felt so familiar. As if he’d experienced it before somewhere.

  He peered into her bedroom and spotted an extra blanket, neatly folded on the end of her bed. He brought it out and quietly draped it over her. She didn’t wake, but seemed to snuggle into the warmth.

  When he went to use the bathroom, he discovered Holly’s gallery, where dozens of black and white photos framed in plain black frames took up most of the wall space. There were older pictures, clearly not taken by Holly, showing her with hair so blonde it was almost white. One wall of photos was more recent, and many had her recognizable style.

  There were also photos from what looked to be family vacations, Holly and another blonde girl, probably a year or two younger, with an older, fair-haired woman in the middle, likely her mother. There were others of Holly and the second girl, who must be her sister.

  Abruptly, he froze! His hand shook as he lifted a photo from the wall and took it over to the window to study it closely. He recognized Holly instantly, her unmistakeable smile, the glint of laughter in her eyes, her glossy black hair. Black hair! Not like the blonde tangle of her youth or the softly curling rainbow shade right now, but jet black and straight.

  He felt like someone just punched him in the gut. Carefully he replaced the picture on the wall, then he went back to study the still-sleeping Holly. Everything about the night in New York came flooding back to him. The similarities leading up to now. Her tumbling into him with him trying to save her, so they wound up on the ice, tangled in each other’s arms.

  The easy banter and the effortless conversation between them as they skated together for a while, then went back to her place where they sat up most of the night talking, before eventually falling asleep in each others’ arms on her couch after eating frozen pizza.

  She’d refused to tell him her name when he left, saying when he found her number and called her, that would be his reward.

  “I’m Nico,” he’d said. “So you know who I am when I call.”

  “Oh, I’ll know who you are,” she’d said in that light-hearted way of hers. “Don’t you worry about that. Serendipity will bring us together.”

  He’d had to look up the meaning of serendipity on his phone. The next day, he’d mailed the Christmas decoration to his mother, and he’d never found her number. At some point in the new year he’d gone around to her apartment, but the door had been answered by a stranger. He’d shrugged it off and carried on with his life, even if he did show up every Christmas Eve at Rockefeller Center, looking for a girl he barely remembered, except the way he felt when he was with her.

  Serendipity had a weird sense of humor.

  It was all too much for him!

  Quietly he shrugged into his coat and let himself out, being careful to lock the door behind him. He hadn’t changed much in five years, so she must have known who he was! Why hadn’t she said anything?

  Maybe the night wasn’t as important to her as it had been to him.

  The cold morning air hit him in the face with an icy blast and cleared away the cobwebs. What was she supposed to say? “Sorry you don’t remember me from five years ago when you promised to call and never did.” Like, that wouldn’t have been awkward!

  At least he knew why he felt like he’d known her before. And if serendipity had taken on the form of that silver angel to bring them together—not that he believed in stuff like that.

  He started toward Sherry’s house. The boys would be up soon, and Sherry could use his help. He stopped abruptly. Holly was coming for dinner and there was nothing from him under the tree for her. He took a hasty detour into town. It was Christmas day, but surely some of the shops would be open for at least a few hours.

  His steps slowed as he reached town, aware he wasn’t thinking straight. It was the wee hours on Christmas morning, and anyone who was up this early wasn’t rushing off to work, they were with their family or on their way to mass. He shoved his bare hands into his coat pockets, no
idea where his gloves were. Probably back at Holly’s.

  What the—!

  There must have been a piece of straw or a pine needle in his pocket for something pricked his finger, which he pulled out to stare at the drop of blood instead of watching where he was going.

  When he looked up, he was in front of the Gift Emporium. He peered through the window. Too bad it wasn’t open. He could buy Holly something cool for her tree. Something to remember him by.

  Suddenly, he saw movement from inside the shop. It was that woman, the one Sherry had said used to be an actress. She wasn’t in her elf costume today, but dressed like a gypsy or a fortune teller, with layers of scarves and shiny jewelry. Impulsively he banged on the window to get her attention.

  She looked up, then slowly made her way to the door.

  “Sorry to bother you,” Nic said, with his most contrite smile. “I’ve got a bit of an emergency.”

  “Come in,” she said.” I’ve been expecting you.”

  Nic started. Had he heard right?

  “My crystal ball said you would need my help,” she said. “What brings you here?”

  Crystal ball! Yeah, right.

  “I need a gift for someone. I believe you know Holly. Can you help me?”

  She gave him a slow, thorough perusal, then led the way through the crowded shop to a bookshelf crammed with children’s books.

  “Oh, I don’t think a book would be the right gift,” he said. “I was thinking about something for her tree.”

  She ignored him and reached up to the top shelf, pulled down a book, then turned to face him. “Don’t think. Listen,” she said dramatically. “This is a first edition; very rare. I’ve been keeping it for her, for when the time is right. When her wish came true.”

  She passed Nic the book, still sporting its original paper dust jacket, faded with time. On the jacket was an old-fashioned scene of a girl in a green coat with a red scarf and red mittens. He flipped it open to the copyright page. 1956. Long before Holly’s time.