'Twas the Week Before Christmas (11 page)

At the stall next to them, Lucy snorted with mirth.

“You’re never going to let that one go, are you?” Holly asked, searching his handsome face.

“Nope.” He grinned ear-to-ear and took another handful of chestnuts out of the bag.

“I should have known better than to tell you that story,” Holly said ruefully, but she couldn’t help but laugh at herself.

“Hi, Lucy,” Max said, holding up his hand to the neighboring stall.

Lucy smiled, “Pleasure to see you again. What do you think of our little Christmas Market?”

“Never seen anything like it,” he said. “Usually I’m too busy to notice these types of things.”

Holly flashed Lucy a pointed look and then swiftly returned to her task. She scanned the crowd for Abby, who was standing near the tree talking to Pete and gesturing back toward the stand.

“You mean too busy to notice the holidays?” Lucy was asking Max.

“Guess you could say that. It’s pretty hard to avoid it here, though.”

His smile didn’t waver but Holly bristled at his word choice. Why would he want to avoid the holidays? What bad memories did it conjure up for him?

“Well, I’m excited for Christmas this year,” Holly announced, lifting her chin.

“Holly, you’re excited for Christmas every year.” Lucy chuckled.

Not every year,
Holly thought darkly.

She steeled herself, forcing herself back to the present. “Well, this year is different.”

“And why is that?” Max popped another chestnut in his mouth and chewed, his eyes clasped on hers as he waited for her answer.

“Because this is the Christmas I finally get my inn,” she said, glancing to Lucy, who smiled.

“Aw, honey. I’m so happy for you,” she said. “It’s been a long time coming. I know this holiday is a special one for you.”

Despite the chill in the air, Holly felt a warm flood wash over her. Every time she stopped to remember that in only a matter of days the inn would be hers, she felt the same flicker of excitement mixed with relief.

She knew the inn had always been hers in spirit. The Millers had never put any demands or restrictions on the land or its uses. They had inherited the land in the same fashion she had inherited the lease, and with it being leased to the Tate family for coming up on ninety-nine years, most people in town didn’t even know Holly didn’t own it outright. For as long as anyone could remember, some generation of the Tates had lived in the old mansion her great-grandfather had built on rented land. It was her home, and George and Lucy treated it as such.

But that didn’t keep Holly from wanting to make it official.

She’d had too many close calls in life. Too many times where she thought something was a sure bet, only to discover that everything she had poured her heart and soul into could be taken at a moment’s notice. And without warning.

Beside her Max was surprisingly quiet.

“Everything okay?” she asked and he shrugged his response. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, racking her mind for what could have caused this transition in his mood. “If you need to get back, the inn is open. You can come and go as you please,” she offered.

“You just left the door
open?
” Max was immediately pulled from his brooding mood. His eyes flinched as they bore into hers and his brows met in the middle.

Holly stopped to register the question and laughed softly when she realized how trusting this must seem. When she had first moved here from Boston, she never would have dreamed of doing such a thing; if anything, she had been scared living alone in that giant house. Everywhere she turned was a shadow of something past, a memory of something that was long gone. She had certainly changed a lot in five years, she mused, but some things did remain the same.

She hated being alone in that house. It was much better when it was filled with people. It would be even better if it was filled with her own family, too.

“We’re all friends in Maple Woods,” she said easily.

“So,” he said, leaning in closer to her once more. Her pulse quickened as she waited for his next words. “If you told Stephen and Abby to take the week off, did you do the same with the rest of the staff?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s just you and me, alone in that house?”

Her heart plummeted. “Yes,” she said slowly, not daring to say much more, and a slight smile formed at the corners of her lips. She glanced at him sidelong, catching the flash of the electric blue of his eyes piercing hers.

“So that means no cook again tonight?”

Holly furrowed her brow. “No, but I can make something.”

Max grinned. “Not if I can help it.”

Holly looked up at him quizzically. “Excuse me?”

“I’m making dinner tonight. For both of us. Unless you have other plans, that is?”

Holly chuckled, unsure of how to handle the flirtatious look in his sparkling blue eyes. She had never before encountered a man so confident in his approach. His gorgeous face was only enhanced by the powerful way he commanded their situation. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, she realized.

Not that she was arguing.

* * *

Max wasn’t sure what he was doing, but frankly, he didn’t care. He knew what he
should
do: walk away. Today. Now. He should get in his car and drive back to New York. He should be gone by the time Holly got back to the inn that night.

What he wanted to do, however, was vastly different.

He was fairly sure that the inn’s kitchen was stocked with more food than he would need, but just in case, he decided to stop in the local grocery for the ingredients he would need for the dinner he had decided to make. The thought of going back to that inn by himself bothered him. He had become fond of being surrounded by the cheerful din of guests, and he had to admit it saddened him to think that Evelyn wouldn’t be knocking on his door at some point today.

A sharp stab halted his breath when he realized the domino effect of the events he had set into action. Evelyn Adler depended on The White Barn Inn to give her a special Christmas each year. And he was single-handedly taking that from her.

She was an older woman, with only her husband to keep her company. What would she do next year? And what would Holly do?

Not for the first time since his meeting with George Miller, Max had to physically restrain himself from marching straight back to the Miller cottage and rescinding his offer. But he knew that as much as he wished he could do this, it wasn’t exactly an option, unless he was willing to sacrifice everything else in his life.

And he had worked too hard and come too far to do that. If he took back his offer on the land, there would be no new development, and from there it would be only a matter of time before they’d have to merge or sell to a competitor, as so many rivals had already done. This development was his road to recovery—it would offset the revenue loss and keep his options open.

If he didn’t build on this land, he didn’t build at all, it was that simple. None of the anchors would take a gamble on weak demographics any more than Hamilton Properties would, and the research for this project was rock solid. Sales projections were strong. He couldn’t risk letting the major retailers down now. He was depending on them as much as they were him. If he didn’t deliver this project and they started pulling out of other centers...it wouldn’t be long before everything unraveled.

His life’s work. Gone. He couldn’t bear to think about it.

“Mr. Hamilton.”

Max darted his gaze to the left, where Bobby Miller was seated on a bench outside the grocery store. “I don’t remember telling you my name,” he said, walking closer.

Bobby shrugged. “You’re the first new face we’ve seen here in ages. Everyone knows your name.”

Max did a quick mental calculation of how many hours had passed since he’d left the Miller cottage. Long enough for George to have said something to his son, or for Bobby to have overheard something he shouldn’t have.

“What have you been up to today?” he inquired, studying Bobby’s face for any insight into what the kid might know.

Bobby shoved his hands in his pockets. “Just hanging out with my friends,” he said. “There’s not much to do around this town.”

Unsatisfied with his answer, Max probed further. “I met your dad last night at the diner. He’s a nice guy.”

Bobby gazed at him warily. “If you say so,” he said at last.

“What’s he up to today?” Max asked.

“Beats me. Probably working. I haven’t seen him.”

Max let out a long sigh of relief. “Well, I should be going. It was good seeing you again, Bobby.”

Bobby waved his hand unenthusiastically as Max pressed on. As he rounded the corner to the automatic doors of the store, a pungent whiff of cigarette smoke cut through the fresh country air and caught Max’s attention. He turned his head reflexively, but there was no offender in sight. Out of curiosity, he poked his head back around the corner of the building, but Bobby was already gone and the smell of smoke had already started to fade.

Still shaky from the exchange, he forced himself to concentrate on the dinner ahead with Holly as he pulled one item after another off the shelves of the quaint store and tucked them into his basket. Rounding to the produce section, he looked up and locked eyes with Mayor Pearson.

The older man shifted his eyes from the left to the right before walking slowly over to Max. “Good to see you again, Mayor,” Max said.

The quizzical expression on his face must have been apparent for the mayor explained, “The office is closed on weekends and I’ve got a new assignment for this afternoon.” He tilted his basket to reveal several boxes of candy canes. “I’ve been cast in the starring role in Santa’s Village. Right down to the fat suit.” He offered a dry smile. “If you haven’t noticed, Christmas is a big deal in our little town.”

Max widened his eyes at the obvious. “I’ve just come from the Christmas Market, actually.”

The mayor spared a wry smile. “It’s a cheerful time for everyone, which is why I hate the thought of disrupting the spirit. Do you mind me asking where things stand on the matter we discussed yesterday? Has any progress been made?”

Max nodded his head slowly. Lowering his voice, he said, “I met with George Miller this morning.”

“And?”

“He’s asked for some time to consider the offer, but seemed receptive.”

Mayor Pearson raised his brows. “Did he say when he would give you his answer?”

Max shook his head. “He needs to discuss it with his wife first, but he knows that time is of the essence. He promised he would have an answer to me with ample time to put the project before the planning committee.”

The mayor leaned in and asked, “Does anyone else know?”

“No,” Max’s tone was firm. Of this much, he was certain. His moment of paranoia had been a fleeting lapse. When he stopped to think about the overwhelming ramifications of the proposal, he knew that George Miller wouldn’t say a word to anyone but his wife. This was a tight-knit community. Word of something of this magnitude getting out would have a disastrous ripple effect on everyone.

His stomach tightened. Was George Miller really ready to put himself in the middle of a firing squad? Max hadn’t stopped to think about the impact the local outcry might have on the diner. But then, with the amount of money the Millers would reap, they wouldn’t need to rely on their customers anymore.

“What about Holly?” the mayor pressed.

“What about her?” Max was quick to reply. The mere mention of her name prompted him to rush to defense. But who was he protecting? Himself...or her?

“Does she know that you have made an offer to George?”

“No,” Max said, feeling disgusted with himself. “I thought about talking with her about it, but I get the impression she wouldn’t be happy about this.”

“That’s an understatement,” the mayor said. He shook his head. “I’ve been up all night thinking about this, but ultimately one person can’t hold the rest of the town back from progress. Holly is sitting on something that can be put to better use, and that’s the way I have to approach this.” He sighed. “Who knows, maybe if that library hadn’t caught fire I would be saying something different.”

Max paused to think about this last statement. If the idea of building on the Miller site had never been possible, would that have been better? Then he could have just enjoyed his time with Holly for what it was. Because where he stood now, one thing was inevitable: in a matter of days—if not hours—Holly would learn his real reason for being in Maple Woods.

And then she would hate him.

The thought of her feeling betrayed by him was almost too much to bear. Especially when he himself wished it didn’t have to be this way. Tonight he would try and tell her the truth. Cooking dinner was the least he could do for her, in light of everything else.

“I suppose I should get going,” the mayor said, starting to walk away. “But I have a feeling we’ll be in touch soon.”

“It was good seeing you again, Mayor.”

“Talk to you soon, Mr. Hamilton.” The mayor made his departure, and Max quietly watched him disappear down an aisle until the man was out of sight.

A domino effect, he thought to himself once more. That’s exactly what it was. He had knocked the first chip yesterday morning, and now there was no chance of him halting the breaks without it all crashing down on him anyway. If he at least let the plan stay in motion, it had a chance of falling neatly into a pile.

And why was he even questioning his actions anyway?

This was what he had wanted. This was what he had worked for. This was what he had come to town to do. And then he had met Holly.

And now...now he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. All he knew was that he had the sickening feeling he was going to come out of all of this with nothing.

Max turned to pull some pears from a bushel against a wall and his heart pitched at what he saw.

Standing only a few feet from him was Abby, staring at him intensely, her gaze steady and lethal. The friendly smile was gone from her small face, her eyes clouded with confusion. How much she had overheard, he didn’t know. She looked away hastily and was gone before he could say anything to stop her.