Winter at Christmas Inn, page 4
Stephen was grateful for their forgiveness, but he didn’t want to let Hope down by doing the job she’d left to him anything less than perfectly. He knew this couldn’t last forever, the entire town staying at Christmas Inn. He needed to restore this place to its former glory.
Hope’s memory deserved so much more than what he was giving.
The swinging kitchen door smacked into him. He stepped out of the way and glanced over his shoulder to see the wide eyes of Holly. Her skin was pink, and her hair was tousled. She pulled her coat closer as she glanced around the room.
When her gaze landed on Stephen, she gave him a quick nod.
Feeling like an idiot for how he’d acted on the drive, he opened his mouth to apologize, only to be drowned out by Mrs. Brondy yelling from the other end of the dining room.
“Holly, you’re here! You came!” Her hands were clasped together as she weaved her way through the tables. Holly looked alarmed, but if Mrs. Brondy noticed, it didn’t dissuade her. She reached out and pulled Holly into a hug.
“We’ve missed you around here,” Mrs. Brondy said, her voice muffled by Holly’s jacket.
Holly patted Mrs. Brondy’s back in a slow, methodical manner.
Stephen folded his arms across his chest, completely ready to be entertained. Holly had been anything but pleasant to him, and he was interested to see if the woman he once knew was still in there, or if Holly was just as pretentious as he feared she’d become.
From where he stood, it was clear she’d changed. And not in a good way.
“Thank you, Mrs. Brondy,” Holly said when she was finally released from the hug. Stephen studied her as she smiled. There was definitely hurt in her expression, but her smile was genuine.
And familiar.
A hollow ache rose inside of Stephen as he reached down to grab the suitcase next to him. This wasn’t the time or place to slip into memories of Holly.
She’d made her choice a long time ago. She’d walked away from this place, from him. And it was up to him to make sure his feelings for her stayed buried.
Nothing good could come from loving Holly. She was intent on selling Christmas Inn and that was that. The woman who was willing to give up on the magic that this place held wasn’t the Holly he knew anymore.
“Uncle Steppen!”
Stephen glanced around and saw Isaac standing on his chair at the table in the far corner. He was bouncing up and down, waving his hands. Blossom was next to him, frantically grabbing at him and commanding that he sit down.
But Isaac wasn’t interested in listening. He had gotten very good at moving just far enough out of his mom’s reach so that he could continue doing whatever he wanted.
Ready to put to bed those pesky feelings that had crept up inside of him since Holly climbed into the cab of his truck, he moved over to stand behind Isaac’s chair. In true Isaac fashion, the boy wrapped his arms around Stephen and scaled him like a monkey.
To keep Isaac from dropping to the floor, Stephen hoisted him up onto his shoulders. Isaac giggled.
“You spoil him, you know,” Blossom said. She’d settled back in her wheelchair and folded her arms.
Stephen glanced over at his sister and gave her a wink. “Someone has to do it.”
Blossom’s lips twitched as she attempted to keep a straight face. Isaac wrapped his little hands under Stephen’s chin and dipped down so his lips were pressed to Stephen’s ear.
“Who’s that?” Isaac asked in a whisper, sticking out his pudgy finger.
Stephen followed his gesture. He was pointing at Holly, who was still talking to Mrs. Brondy. She was clutching the strap of her purse as if she were hanging onto it for dear life.
Her expression was pained, and it was evident that she was pushing through whatever reservations she had about being here.
It was so strange, her resistance to Christmas Inn. Anyone who came here instantly fell in love with the place. Well, maybe not right then. With the sparse decorations, even Stephen was having a hard time remembering that it was Christmas.
But that was all going to change. Starting tomorrow, he was going to hit the ground running. He didn’t care what Holly said about Christmas cheer. If this was the last Christmas he was going to spend at the inn he’d grown up loving, he was going to make it one to remember.
Reaching up, he grabbed onto Isaac’s arm and slid the little boy down from his shoulders. Then he set him back onto the chair, butt down this time, and crouched down next to his nephew.
Isaac glanced up at him with his wide brown eyes.
“Remember that movie we watched last weekend? The one with the Grinch, whose heart needed to grow?” Stephen studied his nephew until he saw a spark of recognition.
Isaac began to nod enthusiastically.
Stephen smiled as he tousled Isaac’s hair. “Well, that lady over there, she’s the Grinch’s sister—”
“Stephen,” Blossom hissed.
His sister’s eyes were wide and her lips pinched together. He furrowed his brow. “What?”
“You cannot tell Isaac that. What’s he going to say to her?” Blossom’s cheeks were red as she studied him.
Stephen shrugged. “Hey, if it’s true, it’s true.” There was a slight tug on his heart that told him it wasn’t the whole truth. Holly had a good reason to be upset with her grandmother, to want to sell this place. But he wasn’t going to focus on that.
In the end, the inn would be sold, and he would be left to find a new home for Blossom, Isaac, and himself. Nothing would be quite as perfect as this place.
But he wasn’t going to let it go without a fight. Even if that meant his nephew might call Holly a grinch.
Blossom just shook her head as she sipped the soup from her spoon.
Thankful that Blossom wasn’t going to push him further about this, he turned his attention over to Isaac, who was still staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips.
At least he had his six-year-old nephew on his side. He cleared his throat and focused back on what he was saying.
“It’s our job this Christmas to help her heart grow,” he said, tipping his head toward Holly.
Isaac snuck a peek at Holly and then glanced back at Stephen. “Okay,” he whispered and then giggled. As if he were thrilled with their plan.
“I’m ready to see my room now,” Holly’s voice sounded from above them.
Stephen took a moment to wink at Isaac—who giggled even more—and then straightened.
“Welcome home, Holly,” Blossom said as she smiled over at her.
Holly’s eyes widened as she studied Stephen’s sister. “Blossom? H-hey, I didn’t know you were in town,” she said as she bent down to give Blossom a hug.
“Yeah, moved here a few years ago. Right after the accident,” Blossom said matter-of-factly, and Stephen held his breath, wondering what Holly was going to say.
He peeked over at her. Her lips were pinched together, and there was an air of awkwardness that was making him itch. If Holly had ever bothered to come home, she would have known about Blossom. She would have been there for him while they worked through the accident and rehabilitation.
But Holly hadn’t been there. And he’d been alone.
Not wanting to share with Holly a piece of his life that she’d given up the right to take part in years ago, he grabbed her suitcase’s handle and extended his arm. “This way.” He was desperate to get her out of the dining room and upstairs, where she would be out of his hair—at least for now.
Holly glanced over at him and nodded. “Right. Thanks.” She sighed and glanced over at Blossom and Isaac. “Well, it was good to see you again.”
Blossom nodded and then turned her attention to Isaac, who was flinging noodles across the room with his spoon.
Stephen didn’t even wait to see if Holly followed after him. He turned and made his way over to the central staircase, where he began to climb the stairs two by two.
“We were booked solid, but we had a cancellation. That’s why you’re not staying in the stalls,” he added under his breath as he grabbed out his key ring and unlocked the door to the suite at the end of the hall.
Holly laughed—it sounded strained and unfamiliar—but when he gave her a serious look, her laughter died.
He hadn’t been joking. Sure it was a juvenile move, but he was hurting. The inn was his. What did Holly care when she was hell-bent on selling it? In turning the land into cookie-cutter houses?
“Oh,” she said as she walked past him. But she paused when she got into the room.
As a joke, Stephen had decided to store all the Christmas trees in her room. After all, he hadn’t expected it to be occupied once the couple who was going to stay there canceled.
Plus, it seemed Holly could use a little holiday cheer in her life.
So, he’d decided to keep them there, in all their pine-smelling glory, until they got around to bringing them downstairs for decorating.
“I thought I asked not to have any Christmas decorations in my room,” she said, holding up her finger as she turned back to him.
Stephen leaned against the doorframe and nodded. “Right. I got that e-mail. ‘To Whom it May Concern,’” he said with air quotes.
Holly pinched her lips together. “I didn’t know you were still here.”
Stephen snorted. “Yeah. I figured.”
She sighed as she threw up her arms. “So, how long am I going to be Snow White in the woods?”
Stephen straightened as he reached for the door handle and began pulling the door closed. “When do you plan on selling?” he asked.
She gave him an annoyed look. “You know how long I’m—”
“Until then,” he said, shutting the door and cutting off her words.
He stood in the hallway with his back pressed against the dark oak door. He took in a deep breath, feeling slightly better about his situation. Holly had a major anti-Christmas stick up her butt. That woman in there wasn’t the girl he’d grown up with. She wasn’t the girl he’d fallen in love with. She was the Grinch.
This Christmas, he was determined to find that stick and remove it. It was his only chance to save not only the holiday season, but the inn itself.
He had a job to do and he was going to do it. Holly Graham was no match for him. He was going to throw the biggest, grandest Christmas she’d ever seen. And if that didn’t melt her icy heart, then she could have the inn.
But he wasn’t going to back down. That wasn’t his way. He would fight until his last breath.
Christmas was coming to the inn whether she liked it or not.
6
Holly
A sharp knock on the door drew her from her dream.
A dream in which she was running through the woods but couldn’t quite seem to find the way out. Trees surrounded her. The smell of pine filled her nose.
The knocking started again.
Sighing, she threw off her blankets and pushed herself up. Her feet touched the cool, hard wood floor, causing her to wince and pull her feet back. Now fully awake, she opened her eyes and glanced around.
Seven evergreen trees sat in front of her.
Well, no wonder she’d had a nightmare about running through the woods. She was literally staying in the woods.
Growling, she pushed off the bed and grabbed her robe as she tiptoed to the door. She should have known Stephen would pull something like this. Just like she should have known that he would still be here. He was never going to leave Ivy Springs—or the inn.
The knocks sounded again just as she reached the door. She unlocked the bolt and pulled the door open. Annoyed, she glanced up to see Stephen standing there with pink cheeks and wearing a red wool hat and brown coat.
“What are you doing?” she asked as she yawned and stretched. She ran her hands through her matted hair, hoping it would look natural and not like she cared that she looked a mess.
Stephen didn’t wait as he pushed into her room. She sputtered a few times, but that didn’t stop him. He walked over to one of the trees and loosened the bolts holding it in the tree stand. Then he bent down and hoisted the tree up onto his shoulder, sap and water dripping onto the floor.
“What are you doing still sleeping?” he asked as he made his way through the door, pausing for a moment to stare down at her.
She blinked a few times, trying to figure out what was happening. “Wha—why?” she stammered.
Stephen shifted the tree higher up onto his shoulder. “You’re the owner now. You need to be up and managing the place.” He reached behind him and grabbed a piece of paper from his back pocket. “Here, I made a list and everything.”
He shoved the paper at her, and she scrambled to grab it. Then he smiled and pushed out into the hallway.
Desperate to save face, she followed after him. “I thought I said no Christmas decorations,” she said, pressing her hands to her hips for emphasis.
Stephen chuckled. Then he turned so he could meet her gaze. “You did,” he said as he winked and shrugged.
Before she could respond, he disappeared down the stairs, leaving a trail of water behind him.
Frustrated, Holly pulled her robe closed as she hurried back into her room. With the door shut and locked, she leaned against it and let out her breath.
Remembering the list that he’d shoved at her, she glanced down and unfolded it.
Room 7 has a clogged toilet
Room 9 says her room is too cold
Room 11 shoved a stuffed animal into the heater vent. It needs to be removed.
Samson isn’t here to muck the stables
Groaning, she folded the paper and set it on the dresser next to her. Holding her breath, she closed her eyes as she prepared herself for what lay ahead.
She should have realized that Stephen wasn’t going to make this easy on her. When she saw him standing there at the airport, she should have just turned around and went home.
She doubted that Stephen had changed since the last time they were together. When he didn’t want to do something, he didn’t.
Which meant she was going to suffer. He was going to make sure of it.
She knew what he was doing. He was forcing the inn on her in the hope that she would throw up her hands and leave, therefore not fulfilling the stipulation in the will. Well, he had another thing coming. She was stronger than he thought.
Plus, she doubted that he didn’t have another place to store the trees he’d shoved into her room. She knew this place like the back of her hand. He was forcing Christmas on her, deliberately going against what she’d asked of him.
Well, two could play at that game. If Stephen thought he was going to break her, he’d forgotten who she was. She welcomed a little competition in her life.
By the time this week was over, she was going to sell this inn so fast his head would spin.
She quieted her mind as she allowed that thought to linger. Her stomach squeezed as she opened her eyes and glanced around, regret rising to the surface. The familiar floral wallpaper met her gaze as she glanced around at all the wood fixtures. Items she’d picked out with her grandmother when they had to replace broken or worn-down dressers and nightstands.
Each room held memories that made her homesick for a life she once had and angry that the woman who’d raised her had lied to her for so long.
It was strange having such a contrast of emotions running through her.
Not wanting to dwell on her feelings, she swallowed and pushed off the wall. She needed to focus on the list that Stephen had given her. She could sort through her emotions later when she was back in New York, debt free and preparing for the future of her relationship with Tyler.
Until then, she was in survival mode.
With a newfound determination, Holly marched into the bathroom and flipped the shower on. Ice-cold water rushed out, and Holly took her time undressing as she waited for the water to heat up.
Steam filled the room. She needed a hot shower to help relax her muscles and calm her down. Well, what she really needed was a deep tissue massage and a sauna, but there was no way she was going to get that in Ivy Springs. So a hot shower would have to do.
Five minutes into the shower with her hair sudsed with shampoo, the water began to sputter.
Warm then cold. Warm then cold.
Holly fiddled with the dial.
Warm. Cold. Warm.
She rushed to stick her head under the water and rinse off the soap as fast as she could. Midway through, the water sputtered and ice-cold water shot down on her.
Holly yelled as she ran her fingers through her hair, her teeth chattering. She fought the urge to jump out, still covered in soapy suds.
Once the water ran clear, she smacked the dial, halting the water.
Goosebumps covered every inch of her body as she frantically grabbed a towel and began to dry off, rubbing warmth into her limbs.
She wrapped herself in her robe and her hair in a towel and made her way out of the bathroom and straight over to the heater.
Once she was warmed through, she grabbed her suitcase and hefted it onto the bed. She pulled out a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Then she threw her hair up into a bun and put on a little makeup—not enough to look like she was trying but enough to make it look like she wasn’t dead.
With her tennis shoes on and Stephen’s list tucked into her back pocket, she opened her door and headed out into the hall.
The first morning of seven was done and in the books. She only had six more to go before she could leave this place and never look back.
And, with the memory of the cold shower hanging over her head, the end of the week couldn’t come fast enough.
Stephen
Stephen stood in the kitchen, glancing up at the ceiling. He was busy flipping the faucet on and off.
