'Twas the Week Before Christmas (10 page)

The offer was made. It was in George Miller’s hands now. And only one thing was certain. There was no going back now.

Chapter Seven

B
y midmorning, the Christmas Market was vibrant and crowded as familiar faces strolled through the town square clutching steaming paper cups of hot chocolate and snacking on roasted chestnuts. It seemed the entire town had made it out that morning, despite the couple feet of snow that had gathered overnight. Holly had snagged the cart just next to Lucy, who had been up all night making fresh pies in preparation for the festivities. The Saturday before Christmas was always the busiest, and Holly expected to sell what was left of her homemade preserves before the market closed for the day, as she did every year. No matter how much time she spent preserving and jarring the blueberries she had harvested, it seemed there was never enough to keep up with the demand. She’d worked long into the night for weeks in preparation for the annual tradition, but she didn’t mind. Keeping busy, she had learned, was a good way to keep from giving in to the loneliness that sometimes crept in late at night, when the guests had turned in and the house grew quiet.

“Where’s George?” Holly asked, as she pulled some more jars from a box at her feet.

“He had some bookkeeping to do at the house this morning,” Lucy said. “But I doubt he’ll make it to the market today. Someone has to cover the diner. We can’t leave the staff unsupervised all day.”

“Guess not.” Holly shivered and turned on her heat lamp. “At least the sun’s out today.”

“Some big storm,” Lucy said ruefully. “Did all your guests head out early just in case it hit hard?”

Holly hesitated. “All but one.”

Lucy slid her a glance from her neighboring stall. “Don’t tell me. That man who came into the diner yesterday. The one who likes my pies.”

Holly’s face flushed with heat despite the frost in the air. “None other.”

Lucy let out a long whistle. “Well, looks like Christmas came early for you this year!”

Holly lowered her eyes but she couldn’t resist a smile. “It’s not like that.”

“No?” Lucy didn’t look convinced. “Because it sure looked like something to me. Do you like him?”

What’s not to like?
Holly wanted to say. But something in her sinking heart told her there was plenty not to like. She paused to consider the question, knowing it required no thought at all. She did like him. Of course she did. But Max was sadly all wrong for her.

“He lives in New York,” Holly explained.

“So?”

“So, that’s two hours away.” Holly gave her friend a measured stare but Lucy looked unimpressed with her excuse.

“People move all the time,” Lucy said casually. She pulled an apple crumble pie from a box and placed it on a cake platter.

“I think he prefers city life,” Holly continued.

“You grew up in Boston,” Lucy pointed out. “Would you ever consider going back to that kind of life?”

Holly grimaced. She didn’t even want to think about leaving Maple Woods and she felt agitated by how ahead of herself she was getting. “He doesn’t seem to want the same things I do.”

Lucy pulled a face. “That’s too bad. He seemed really interested in you to me.”

Holly’s heart spasmed. “Really?” Her mind raced as she flashed through the sequence of their conversation at the diner yesterday morning. She was itching to ask Lucy for more specifics on her observation.

Taking notice of Holly’s inner struggle, Lucy’s lips twisted in satisfaction. “Aha! I
knew
you liked him.”

“Of course she likes him!” Abby sauntered up to Holly’s cart and handed her a cup of cocoa. Eyes gleaming, she asked, “So how was last night?”

“What was last night?” Lucy inquired, perking up in interest.

“Our little Holly had a date,” Abby announced proudly.

“What?” Lucy squealed. “And you didn’t blurt it out as soon as you saw me? Holly, we have been here for over an hour. When were you going to mention it?”

Holly blew out a sigh and held Abby’s stare. She hadn’t planned on telling Lucy about her evening, partly because she didn’t want to think about it herself. Recounting the details would only conjure up images of Max’s handsome face so close to hers, his strong, broad arm around her shoulder, that irresistible grin, and those were thoughts she couldn’t afford to have.

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” she told Lucy with a shrug.

“Well, I am making a big deal out of it,” said Abby.

“I noticed.” Holly picked up her hot chocolate and took a tentative sip to test the temperature.

“Am I missing something here?” Lucy asked, eyes darting from one woman to the next and back again. “I met that man—Max, right? You should be shouting from the rooftops, my girl! Why aren’t you more excited?”

Holly’s shoulders slumped and she toyed with the lid of her cup. “I just don’t want to fall for him. He’s leaving in a matter of days, and I don’t think he wants anything more than a fling.”

Abby peered at her. “What makes you say that?”

Holly tried to remember Max’s exact words but her thoughts were muddled with a devastating image of his smooth grin and dazzling blue eyes. “He said that he doesn’t have time for much in his life besides work, essentially. It just...it just felt like Brendan all over again.”

“Holly.” Abby’s voice was stern. “Max is not Brendan. Just because Brendan disappointed you in the end doesn’t mean that Max will, too. They are completely different people and the circumstances are, too. Max deserves a fair shot. It isn’t right to judge him based on your past experiences.”

Holly’s heart sank as she listened to her friend’s lecture. “No, you’re right. But at the same time, tell me exactly how this would even work? He is a self-diagnosed workaholic. He lives two hours away. He has an aversion to small-town life. And oh, he hates Christmas.”

Abby and Lucy gasped simultaneously. “He hates Christmas?” Abby hissed.

Holly nodded her head victoriously, satisfied in a twisted sort of way that she had managed to prove her point to them. Max was all wrong for her. She would be a fool to fall for him.

Ever the pragmatic one, Lucy clarified, “Does he just not celebrate Christmas, or does he actually hate it?”

“He hates it!” Holly’s voice was shrill with defense, hoping for any reason to validate why Max was all wrong for her and why she should be allowed to just forget him. She met Lucy’s suspicious gaze and added, “He said it isn’t his thing.”

“But who hates Christmas?” Abby asked again.

Holly threw up her hands. “Exactly!” But even as she said it, she couldn’t shake the rest of his words from her thoughts. Christmas brought back bad memories, he’d said. A feeling she knew all too well.

She would never forget the first Christmas after her parents had died. First the dread leading up to it, then the incessant ache in her heart and finally the relief she had felt the next day, when it was all over. She’d feared ever having to spend another holiday that way—raw with hurt and an overwhelming sense of loss.

She set her jaw. Well, she never had again. Christmas was a busy and happy time. That’s the way it was meant to be. It was better that way.

She let out a shaky sigh and began frantically arranging her jam jars in a pyramid, realizing the other two women were watching her carefully. She glanced up at one of the accusers. “What?”

“Who cares if he hates Christmas,” Lucy said. “A man that looks like that is allowed to hate anything he wants.”

Abby laughed heartily and took a sip of her cocoa. “Seriously, Holly. You’re just talking yourself out of this with one flimsy excuse after another. It’s okay to like him, you know.”

“I know,” Holly said halfheartedly, feeling lightheaded over it all. The thought of allowing herself to indulge in these feelings was so far outside her comfort zone she almost couldn’t bear it. She had spent years creating this cozy, safe environment for herself, and now everything felt uncertain again. She didn’t know why, but she had an uneasy sensation that everything was about to fall out from under her. That Max’s arrival had permanently shattered her comfortable, complacent life.

“You sure you know?” Lucy asked. “Because that face looks like it needs some persuading.”

Believe me,
Holly thought,
I don’t need any persuading at all.

And that was half the problem.

“What if he goes back to New York next week and I never see him again?” Holly voiced. Saying it out loud felt good, like a weight had been lifted. She was so tired of loving people only to have them leave her one way or another in the end. There was nothing more painful than being left behind. She’d much prefer to be the one leaving first for a change.

“I’ve got a few years on you, so let me give you a piece of advice, Holly. Anyone who disappears from your life isn’t worth having in it.” Lucy gave her a hard stare from under the hood of her lids.

The corner of Holly’s mouth turned in a small smile. “You’re a good friend, Lucy.”

“Don’t you forget it.” Lucy winked.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Abby murmured and Holly’s heart skipped a beat.

Across the town square, Max was weaving his way through the stalls, stopping every few feet to pause at a cart. At the mere sight of him, Holly’s stomach dropped and a wave of nausea engulfed her.

Lovesick,
she thought bitterly.

There was really no point in fighting the inevitable. She was smitten. And who could blame her?

She watched him through the crowd until he disappeared behind the massive Christmas tree in the middle of the market. Before he could appear again, she turned herself away, planting a smile on her face when a little girl in a bright pink coat and matching hat asked for a jar of preserves.

“Five dollars,” Holly said absentmindedly. She scanned the crowd quickly once more, but she couldn’t spot Max or his navy blue parka anymore.

“I only have four,” the little girl said.

Heart pounding, Holly’s eyes swept over the Christmas Market once more, wondering if he had come to find her, and if so, what he wanted to say. Perhaps he had already left.

“Take it. That’s fine,” she said, handing the little girl a jar with barely another glance.

“If you keep running your business like that, you’ll go broke.” At the sound of his voice, Holly jumped. “Sorry to startle you.” His deep, smooth voice sent a warm rush through Holly’s blood. Her heart reeled.

Turning to face him, she swallowed hard before saying, “What a nice surprise.”

“Thought I’d come see what all the fuss was about,” he said. He was holding a small brown paper bag full of roasted chestnuts and he popped a few in his mouth as he looked around the town square.

Holly could feel the heat of Lucy’s stare boring into her from the next cart. She mentally dismissed it as she studied Max’s profile. Every inch of it was perfect, from the loose lock of dark hair that spilled over his forehead to the strong nose to the square jaw. “I didn’t think this would be your kind of thing.”

Max lifted a mischievous brow. “I’m a man full of surprises,” he bantered and Holly gave a weak smile.

Beside her, Abby cleared her throat and Holly jolted. Squaring her shoulders she said, “Max, I don’t think you’ve officially met Abby yet.”

Max took off his glove and held out his hand. “I’ve seen you around the inn. And Holly’s mentioned you a few times, as well.”

“Nice to meet you,
Max,
” Abby said, with more meaning than Holly cared for. “I’ve seen you around the inn, but you were always being snatched away by Evelyn Adler before I could introduce myself.”

Max chuckled. “Will you be back at the inn today?’

Holly stiffened as Abby said, “No, Holly here was nice enough to give me the week off since everyone’s gone home. Guess she figures she can handle you on her own.”

Max slid his blazing blue eyes to Holly and held them there. The corner of his lips lifted in a lazy smile. “I might be more trouble than she expected.”

Holly felt her cheeks color a shade of pink she didn’t even want to envision. Under the cart, where Max couldn’t see, she gave Abby a less than gentle kick with the toe of her boot. Abby turned to her with a frozen smile, but her eyes were warm and dancing. She was enjoying herself. Of course. Easy for her, being married already. Not having to put herself out there. Risk her heart.

But she couldn’t stay mad at Abby. Not really. Abby was her closest friend and she wanted what was best for her. And it seemed everyone around Holly thought what was best for her was Max Hamilton.

“So how do you like Maple Woods?” Abby inquired, because Holly was sure, she simply couldn’t resist.

“It’s quaint!” Max said heartily, his smile open and genuine. He slipped a glove back on his hand; his nose and cheeks were turning pink with cold.

“Well, hopefully you’ll stick around,” Abby said. “At least long enough to cover my spot.” She stepped away from the cart. Would you mind? I have to go find my husband.”

If Max was opposed to the suggestion, he didn’t show it, and he swiftly stepped behind the cart once Abby had shuffled out. Before any excuse could be made from anyone, she darted into the crowd, her hand-knitted scarf flying behind her until she disappeared into the swarm of people.

Holly bit her lip to hide its smile.

“So what are you selling here?” Max held up a jar and studied the label. She’d printed them up herself with The White Barn Inn logo, as well as tied a twine bow around the bottom of each parchment-paper covered lid. “Wild Blueberry Preserves,” he read.

“From the bushes out back,” she said quietly.

“The bushes that witnessed Evelyn Adler’s breakdown one afternoon?” He cocked a brow and looked at her sidelong.

Holly laughed. “The very same ones.”

Max studied the jar once more before setting it back on the display table. “Let me guess. You made them.”

“Is it that obvious?” she sighed.

“More like that impressive,” he corrected and her heart flipped at the compliment. “You’ve got everyone here fooled into thinking you’re perfect. But luckily I happen to know your dirty little secret.”

Holly gasped. “What’s that?”

“That you are the world’s worst waitress. Hostess. Barista. Cashier.”