Logan sat down heavily. “All those people upstairs. Working so hard. And it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”
“I have to go tell them,” Jack said, though the thought of it made him feel physically ill. “They deserve to know.”
“Jack, wait,” Charlie said. “Let me make some calls. Talk to some people. There might be something I’m missing. Some emergency provision or loophole.”
“And if there isn’t?” Jack asked.
Charlie was quiet for a moment. “Then at least we tried everything.”
“Howlong?” Jack asked.
“Give me the rest of the day,” Charlie said. “Let me see what I can find out. In the meantime, let those people keep working. Let them have a little more hope.”
Jack nodded numbly. The rest of the day. That’s all they had left.
The rest of the day, before he had to tell everyone that the Christmas Inn was lost.
The rest of the day before Victor Martin won—once again.
12
JACK
Jack, Holly, and Logan stood at the front desk, going over the supply list one more time. The inn bustled with activity around them. Voices carried down from upstairs where the volunteer crew was already at work. Hammers, saws, and the sound of people working together toward a common goal.
It should have filled Jack with hope. Instead, it felt like a countdown to an inevitable disaster.
“We need three more sheets of plywood,” Logan said, checking his list. “Extra wood stain to match the existing floors. Window glazing compound. And Holly, what did you say about hardware?”
“The brass fixtures we ordered came in yesterday,” Holly said, but her voice lacked its usual energy. “They’re in the workshop. But we’ll need mounting brackets for the curtain rods in all three rooms.”
Jack watched them both, trying to maintain optimism and keep moving forward, even though they all knew the truth. Charlie had until the end of the day to find a solution. If she couldn’t, none of this mattered.
“I’ll head into St. Augustine now,” Logan said. “I should be back in two hours, maybe less if traffic’s light.”
“Wait,” Holly said suddenly. “I need a few things for the antique dresser. And we need mirrors for the other rooms. I had something specific in mind, but...” She glanced between Logan and Jack, clearly torn.
Jack could see the conflict on her face. She wanted to go pick out exactly the right pieces, but she also knew every pair of hands was crucial upstairs.
“Go with Logan,” Jack told her, deciding for her. “I’ve got this. I’d rather you two get it all right in one go instead of having to make multiple trips.”
Holly looked at him for a long moment, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Keep your chin up,” she whispered. “This is not over yet, Jack.”
Jack managed a tight smile as he watched them leave through the front door. He wanted to believe her words. Wanted to have her faith that somehow, miraculously, Charlie would find a way out of this impossible situation.
But he couldn’t shake the memory of the last time he’d gone up against Victor Martin. He’d thought he’d found a way back then, too. A legal loophole, a technicality, something that wouldprotect his business in Charleston. And he’d lost everything anyway.
Victor didn’t just win. He crushed you completely. Made sure you had nothing left to fight with.
“Jack, sweetheart?”
His mother’s voice pulled him from his dark thoughts. He turned to see Julie coming in from the door that led to their private residence. The house was his great-great-grandfather’s, built alongside the inn. The house where Jack had grown up, where Jane had spent her childhood.
Their house.
The realization hit him with crushing force. Losing the inn meant losing their home too.Where would his mother go? Where would any of them go?
“Are you okay, honey?” Julie asked, her shrewd eyes taking him in with that motherly perception that saw too much.
