“Yes, they’re horrible,” the young woman said, lowering her voice even though the café was mostly empty. “They’ve been in here three times over the past week. Not only are they dreadful tippers, but they also complain about everything. The coffee’s too hot, then it’s too cold. The sandwich has too much mayonnaise, then not enough.”
She leaned in closer. “Yesterday, they were in here with another woman. A blonde woman who was even worse. She actually asked me to check that there were no calories in the mineral water.”
Holly and Logan exchangedamused glances.
The waitress straightened up with a genuine smile. “My mom owns the place, and she told me to tell you that dessert is on the house for not letting them stay.”
“Your mom sounds like a wise woman,” Logan said with a grin.
They enjoyed their meal and the complimentary slice of key lime pie, taking a brief respite from the day’s stress. But all too soon, it was time to get back to work.
Two hours later, Holly and Logan were finally finished at the last store and making their way back to Logan’s pickup truck, their arms loaded with the final items on their list.
“I think we got everything,” Logan said, mentally checking off items as they loaded the truck bed. “Though I’m not sure about that wood stain. It’s close to the color we need, but...”
“It’ll work,” Holly assured him. “We can adjust it if we need to.”
“Miss Bennett?” A teenage boy suddenly ran up toward them, slightly out of breath. “Are you Miss Bennett?”
“Yes,” Holly nodded, surprised.
“A lady asked me to give this to you,” he said, handing her an envelope with Holly’s name written on it.
Holly froze, recognizing the handwriting immediately. That distinctive, slightly slanted script.
“Thank you,” Holly said automatically. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any change on me.”
“Don’t worry, the lady gave me a lot to come and give it to you,” the teen said before turning and jogging back down the street.
“I wonder who that could be from,” Logan said, raising his eyebrows.
“Terry,” Holly said quietly, staring at the envelope as they climbed into the pickup.
“Are you going to open it?” Logan asked, starting the engine.
“Not sure,” Holly said. “I’m afraid it might have a spider or something in it,” she joked, but her hands were shaking slightly as she turned the envelope over.
Finally, she forced herself to rip it open.
Inside was a thick stack of papers. Holly pulled them out and began reading, her eyes widening with each line.
It was copies of contracts. One was a purchase agreement for the Christmas Inn. But the buyer listed wasn’t Victor Martin’s company.
Holly’s eyes widened even more, and her heart pounded when she saw the name.
“What is it?” Logan asked, glancing over while keeping his eyes mostly on the road.
Holly kept reading, her heart pounding. There was a note paper-clipped to the front, written in Terry’s handwriting.
Dear Holly,
I know nothing can make up for what I did. But maybe this will help the Christmas family keep their home.
Terry
P.S. Here is the name of an Inspector. Get Jack Christmas to call him immediately. I know that may not make sense, and you have no reason to trust me, but please, get Jack to phone this man.
At the bottom of the note was a name and phone number:Abe Tanner, Senior Building Inspector, St. Augustine Building Department.
