“Oh no,” Holly’s face fell with immediate maternal worry. “Is she okay? What happened?”
“I can assure you, it’s nothing that bad.” Charlie smiled reassuringly. “But it’s something she should tell you herself.”
“All right,” Holly said slowly, still looking concerned. “I’ll find Trinity and Gabe, and then I’ll go talk to Jack.”
“And I’ll go call Simon and set up the meeting,” Charlie said.
They parted ways, and Charlie made her way back to the library. She closed the door behind her for privacy and dialed Simon’s number.
He answered on the second ring. “Hello, Charlie.”
“Holly said she’d meet you at ten a.m. tomorrow at the Corner Café,” Charlie said without preamble. “You can have a few minutes alone to talk, but I’ll be sitting in the café the entire time. And Simon? Bring the papers ready to sign. No more games.”
“No more games,” Simon agreed. “Thank you, Charlie. I mean that.”
“Don’t thank me,” Charlie said. “Just sign the papers and let my sister move on with her life.”
She ended the call and sat back in her chair, staring at the stacks of documents on the desk without really seeing them.
“You’d better not be up to something, Simon,” Charlie said to the empty room. “Or I will come down on you like a ton of bricks.”
3
JACK
Jack sat across the desk from Logan in his office. Blueprints and floor samples were spread across the worn wooden surface between them, and they had been debating the renovation of Room Eight for the better part of an hour.
“The boards will need replacing,” Logan said, pointing to a section of the blueprint. “The whole eastern side of the floor. It’s not just cosmetic anymore, Jack. There’s actual structural concern if we don’t address it now.”
Jack rubbed his temples, feeling the familiar weight of financial stress settling on his shoulders. “And you’re suggesting the engineered hardwood?”
“I am,” Logan confirmed. “I know it’s more expensive than the laminate, but Jack, this room was specifically requested by a returning guest. Someone who hasn’t been here in years but is coming back for the Winter Ball.”
“I know,” Jack said, scanning the cost breakdown Logan had prepared. His stomach tightened. Every dollar mattered now, with Victor circling like a shark and the inn’s debt hanging over him like the sword of Damocles.
“This is a married couple who used to come here every year,” Logan continued, his voice gentle but firm. “They stopped coming when things got difficult, when the inn started to show its age. But they’re coming back, Jack. That means something. That means if we do this right, we could have more customers like them. Loyal customers who remember what this place used to be and want to see it succeed.”
Jack met Logan’s eyes across the desk. His old friend knew him well enough to understand that Jack hated spending money they did not have. But Logan also knew when to push, when to remind Jack that some investments were worth the risk.
“You’re right,” Jack said finally, letting out a breath he had not realized he was holding. “The engineered hardwood it is. When can we get it installed?”
“I’ve already contacted the supplier,” Logan said with a slight smile, as if he had known Jack would agree. “They can have it here tomorrow afternoon, and we can install it the day after. The room will be ready with a day to spare before the guests arrive.”
Jack nodded, making a note on his calendar. “All right. Let’s do it.”
His phone rang, cutting through the comfortablesilence that had settled between them. Jack reached for it without looking at the screen, answering automatically.
“Jack Christmas,” he answered.
“What is the meaning of this message from Jane?” Pamela’s voice blared in his ear, shrill and accusatory.
Jack winced, and Logan heard her voice from across the desk even though the phone was not on speaker. Logan immediately held up his hand and stood, mouthing, “That’s my cue to leave.”
Jack nodded gratefully and waved Logan toward the door. His friend slipped out quietly, closing it behind him with a soft click that somehow made the office feel smaller and more oppressive.
“What are you talking about, Pamela?” Jack asked wearily, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. He could already feel the tension building in his shoulders, the familiar knot of stress that always accompanied conversations with his ex-wife.
“Your daughterleft me the coldest, most terrible message,” Pamela said, her voice dripping with fake distress that set Jack’s gut churning. “Here, I’ll read it to you.”
