Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

THREE THINGS, THE SPEED ROUND

Jack

T he kitchen’s warm and bright. The tangy scent of freshly baked dough tickles my nose, and a pot of red sauce simmers on the stove. Soft holiday music plays but it’s barely audible over the noise of the Jolly family’s chatter. Noelle takes our coats, and Merry squeals and sweeps Holly into a big hug as Nick slaps my back in a hearty greeting.

Holly wriggles free from her youngest sister and pulls a slim, smiling woman toward me.

“Jack, this is my middle sister, Ivy. Ivy, meet Jack Bell, dastardly book donor.”

Ivy ducks her head and laughs. “Hi, Jack. I’m the quiet Jolly. The only quiet Jolly. Consider yourself warned.”

As if to prove her point, at this moment, Noelle says something that causes Nick to roar with laughter and Merry to shriek. Holly shakes her head.

“Told ya. Do you guys want a drink before dinner?” Ivy asks, gesturing to the ice cube-filled glasses lined up on the island next to a pitcher of rose red liquid. “Noelle mixed up some Negronis.”

I glance at Holly, planning to follow her cue. She grins. “Might as well celebrate closing our deal with a cocktail.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Nick pours the drinks and Ivy passes them around. Once everyone’s holding a rocks glass garnished with an orange slice, Noelle suggests moving into the family room. I follow the family into a cozy room with overstuffed, comfortable-looking furniture arranged in a half-circle around a hearth. Logs crackle in the fireplace and fuzzy blankets are draped over the backs of chairs and arms of sofas. Wicker baskets full of books, puzzles, and games vie for space on the horizontal surfaces with fragrant candles and colorful nutcrackers. The room is decorated for Christmas, but it’s homier and less grand than what I saw of the inn earlier. The word inviting springs to mind. I imagine the Jollys curled up here reading or playing board games as snow falls outside the mullioned windows.

Holly catches me looking around. “This is part of the family wing. No guests ever come back here. It’s where we live. Or lived, I guess. Only Noelle and Dad live here year-round now.”

I nod, but before I can respond, Nick raises his glass. “What should we drink to?”

“Holly and Jack have a deal to celebrate,” Merry volunteers.

“A deal? You actually got Anderson to agree to a deal?” Noelle’s agog.

Holly snorts. “As if. No, Jack and I reached a compromise with regard to all this Christmas crap.” She waves her free hand around as if the crap in question is in the room.

“Holly Evelyn,” her father scolds good-naturedly. “All this ‘Christmas crap’ is the lifeblood of our town.”

She rolls her eyes, but Noelle butts in before she can get in her retort. “So what’s the compromise?”

“Uncle Chris ordered that Jack can’t attend any of the Christmas crap without me. And Jack and I agreed that we will go to a dozen holiday events of his choice over the course of the month.”

“Uh-uh. Thirteen.” I wink at Merry. “A baker’s dozen—tonight’s tree lighting plus twelve more.”

Holly’s family hoots. Well, Ivy titters. The rest of them hoot.

“Court-ordered Christmas cheer?” Nick jokes. “I’ll drink to that.”

“ Cin cin, ” Noelle says. A warm look passes between her and Nick at the Italian toast.

The Jollys and I clink glasses. I’ve always wondered what a normal family life would be like. Now, I’m getting a glimpse. Well, a glimpse of normal family life if the family lived in a holiday movie. But, it’s close enough for me.

We make short work of the pitcher of Negronis and move into the dining room. The Jollys jabber and pass slices of pizza around the wide table family style. Someone opens a bottle of red wine. Holly disappears into the kitchen and returns with two liters of mineral water.

“Let’s remember to alternate the booze with water, fam. We don’t want a repeat of the tree lighting of 2021.” She shoots a pointed look toward Merry, who dissolves into peals of laughter.

To my right, Ivy whispers, “Merry went a little hard at dinner that year. She regaled the crowd with a risqué rendition of ‘Santa Baby’ until we dragged her off the stage.”

Holly leans over to confirm this tale. “True story. Poor Jamal was the tree-lighting Santa that year. I still don’t think he’s fully recovered.”

Merry takes the glass of water her father hands her and sips it with dignity. “Haters gonna hate,” she observes coolly.

The whole dinner is like this. The conversation and the wine flow easily. The sisters rib each other, Nick and Noelle interject with memories and funny stories, and every so often, someone lobs me a softball question about Florida or traveling.

When the pizzas have all been devoured, Holly announces, “We forgot to do three things.”

Nick checks his watch. “We have time for a speed round. We need to gather the guests to walk over to the square.”

Aware that I’m completely lost, Noelle catches my eye. “You’ll figure it out, Jack. You can go last. Holly, you start.”

“And … go.” Nick presses a button on the side of his watch face that I assume sets a timer, then points at Holly. “One thing you’re grateful for, one thing you regret, one thing you’ll do to make tomorrow a better day.”

Holly speaks in a rapid-fire cadence, “Noelle’s Negronis, trusting Delphina to fill my coffee order, keep alternating water and wine.”

Nick nods. “Merry, go.”

“Jack convincing Holly to come to the tree lighting, missing my Pilates class with Griselda, make a double batch of gingerbread so I can get ahead of next week’s orders.”

“Noe, you’re up.”

Noelle ticks her statements off on her fingers, “The Bryants canceling so the guest house was free for Holly and Jack, running late after work because I didn’t have time to stop by the post office and mail out the holiday cards like I said I would, spend some time coming up with a fresh spin on this year’s Bookmas event. Your turn, Nick.”

“Merry teaching me how to finally twirl pizza dough like a pro, ignoring Noelle’s advice to wear gloves when I carried in the firewood and having to pick a hundred splinters out of my hands, train Josh Morgenthal as a backup Santa so he can visit the Stillwater animal rescue for pictures with adoptable pets. Ivy?”

Ivy’s mouth curves into a grin and she catches Noelle’s eye. “Grabbing that stack of cards from the reception desk and popping them in the mail during my morning walk, eating nothing but marshmallow brownies and chocolate peppermints for lunch, help mend costumes and repair the sets for the Nutcracker ballet.”

Noelle mouths ‘thank you’ to Ivy while Nick gestures toward me.

I clear my throat. “Weird as it sounds, I’m glad I stopped in this town, I regret not driving a harder bargain with Holly on the holiday events, and I plan to steer clear of little free libraries.” I finish just as Nick’s watch begins beeping.

We push back our chairs and clear the table. The family moves in choreographed unison, and I try to stay out of their way. Within minutes, the dishes are rinsed and arranged in the dishwasher, the table is wiped down and the chairs pushed in, and the kitchen is spotless. We put on our coats and follow Nick and Noelle through the hallway to the reception lobby, where guests are gathering in clusters.

“Does your family do that every night—the three things?” I ask Holly as we lag behind the group.

“Yep. Well, not the speed round. We usually all do the thing we’re thankful for in detail and ask questions of each other, then repeat the process for the other two. It’s a leisurely discussion. But, yes, we did it every night with our mom and dad growing up. And now Dad and Noelle do it, and we join in when we’re together as a family.” She pulls a pair of gloves from her coat pockets and wriggles her hands into them. “Why?”

I shrug. “It’s nice. That’s all.”

“Does your family have any traditions like that?”

“Not really. When my dad took off, my mom had a four-year-old and a three-year-old to take care of with no family nearby to help her. She worked. A lot. For years, she worked a nine-to-five, picked me and my older brother up at the afterschool program, fed us, bathed us, helped us with our homework, and put us to bed. Then she had a side hustle from home that she worked on late into the night. Lots of times, we’d come downstairs in the morning and she’d be sound asleep at the kitchen table with her head resting on her arms.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry. That sounds hard—for all of you.”

I shrug again. “I’m making it sound grimmer than it was. We didn’t have a lot of extra money or time. But she loved us as hard as she could, read to us every night, came up with free, fun things we could do on the weekends. She always had our backs. She was our biggest cheerleader. I have a lot of good memories from those times.” I laugh bitterly. “When we were teens, our financial situation improved—a lot. Her side hustle took off, I mean, really took off. For the first time, she had—we had—breathing room.” I fall silent for a moment, my stomach twisting and sour, before I say, “But then she met Roger.”

I know she’s about to ask me about Roger, and the last thing I want to do is talk about my prick of a stepfather. Luckily, a slow, lazy snowflake picks that moment to land on her cheek. She squeaks in surprise, and I brush it off with two fingers.

“It’s snowing !” she calls to the others, clapping her gloved hands together like a little girl. Then she turns back to me, her eyes shining. “Looks like you’re going to have your second white Christmas ever.”

I can’t help smiling at the flush of excitement on her face as flakes continue to fall, dusting our hair and collars. “Looks like.”

“I love it when it snows during the tree lighting,” she breathes as she grabs my hand in hers and pulls me along to catch up with her family and their guests.