A Hamilton Family Christmas - Donna Kauffman Page 0,58

to mind. Absolutely nothing.

Who was he kidding, anyway?

But for the rest of that day, all that night, and for the endless two days that followed, every time the tinkling bell rang on the front of the door, signaling another customer entering, his pulse would spike, his heart would lift, and his spirit would find a sliver of hope…and each time that hope would be dashed when it wasn’t Holly crossing the threshold.

So, on the dawn of the fourth day, he realized he had a decision to make. Sit back and take her silence as a final answer…or continue his quest?

7

Holly wiped the long sleeve of her tee across her forehead and blew the hair that had slid—again—out its ponytail off of her face. She looked at the clipboard containing a printed list of the entire inventory of the store, and back again at the little secretary desk crammed into the corner of the storage room she’d been using as her living quarters. It simply wasn’t on the list.

She’d discovered that while her father had kept the books for the store in meticulous fashion, her mother had a bit more, let’s say, creative approach to cataloging the store’s contents. There was no doubt she had a good eye for product and good business sense, Santa’s Workshop was solidly in the black and had been for years, decades even, despite economic fluctuations. But when it came to cataloging every last figurine and antique cabinet, her mother’s idea of grouping and organizing the objects were entirely different from Holly’s, or, she was pretty certain, anyone else’s, either.

She’d tried checking things off the list as she went through each area of the room, then, when she couldn’t figure which category certain things fell into, she’d played scavenger hunt and tried tracking down the listed pieces one category at a time…but when that still left pages of unmatched items, she’d been forced to call in reinforcements.

Mrs. Gillespie had just left after coming back a second day to help her sort through it all, and this was what was left. A single, antique oak secretary desk. Mrs. Gillespie had assured her that her mother didn’t have any personal stock in the store, nor had she ever used it to store anything from home. If it was here, it was for sale. But there was no tag, no item number sticker, nothing.

Still, if this was all that was left unsorted, fine by her. She’d been prepared for much worse. And Mrs. Gillespie’s help had brought the added benefit of giving her the opportunity to sticker every piece in the store that she wanted to discuss purchasing. She’d also given Holly information on several different methods she could use to off-load the rest of the inventory. They hadn’t discussed, as yet, leasing terms, as Holly hadn’t yet decided if she wanted to tackle the role of landlord. She had talked to an estate lawyer about her options there, as well, and was mulling over the surprising number there were to contemplate. Every time she thought she’d answered one question, five more popped up that required more discussion.

At the moment, the lone piece of remaining unclassified inventory was the least of her worries. She tossed the clipboard on the red crushed-velvet divan she’d been using as a bed and turned her thoughts to the most nagging issue of the moment. And that was hunger.

She looked through the second-floor dormer window across the street to Gallagher’s and tried, unsuccessfully for what felt like the millionth time, not to think about all those things Sean Gallagher had said to her. In some ways, it was like a surreal dream, a movie sequence that had happened to someone else, an actress playing the role of mousy ingénue faced with the surprising, unrealistic pursuit of the impossibly handsome leading man. An out of body experience, for certain, because things like that never happened to the body of Holly Bennett.

And, oh, the effect he’d had on her body. There was still an automatic, instinctive swoon response each and every time she really allowed herself to relive those moments. Those incredible, intoxicating, possibly-if-she-dared-let-it life-changing moments. But…who did that? Who leaped like that? Well, besides someone like Sean Gallagher, for whom leaping really couldn’t be all that scary. After all, how many hard landings could he have had?

Not that Holly had led some kind of sheltered or failure of a life. She was bright, smart, good at her job, and she’d dated. Plenty. There had even