Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I need you to get this inn appraised so we can start selling it before the end of the year.” Daisy’s boss barged into her office without even knocking. She was used to it.

“Good morning to you too,” she said as she tucked her hair behind her ears, lifting her head from her laptop where she was finishing the paperwork for a case she had just won.

“Can you?” He abruptly stood still in the middle of her office, watching her with intent eyes.

“It’s almost Christmas,” Daisy said, resuming her work.

“That’s why I’m asking you.”

“Because I never have any plans?”

Jeffrey Mace shook his head. “That’s extra. I’m asking you since you’re my best lawyer.”

“You need your best lawyer to get a house appraised?” She stopped typing on her laptop once again, curiosity taking the best of her.

“An inn,” Jeffrey corrected her, “Haunted, supposedly. The owner, one Lucy Reyes, passed away last week. She has no living relatives so it’s going to the Reyes fund. They want to sell it before getting hit by taxes.”

A smile appeared on Daisy’s face. “A haunted inn?” She repeated amused.

“45 percent of the population still believes in ghosts. 100 percent of our appraisers do too.” Her boss explained, desperation glinting in his eyes. “Look, it’s a simple job. I’ve contacted another appraiser, you’ll just have to meet him at the inn, fill in the paperwork and it’s done.”

He inched closer to her desk, pulling the seat she had for clients underneath him. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but the senior associate is retiring. They’re searching for someone to replace him.” Daisy’s eyes lit up with ambition. Mace added to spark the fire: “This job could get you promoted.”

She rose up from her seat, followed by Mace. Eagerly, she nodded. “I’ll do it!”

“I knew I could count on you.”

Riding through the quaint town of Stowe, Daisy watched through her windshields the road in front of her. Her windscreen wipers were busy keeping her view of the road clear from the falling snow. She glanced at her phone, sticking to her dashboard, as to not miss a turn. Her GPS told her to turn into a long driveway, which she did after looking in the rearview mirror. There was no one, she had left the small but lively little town behind her and landed in a deserted place, the white blanket of snow making the landscape even more desolate. She rode up to the inn, passing by a sign that read ‘Hollygrove Inn’ rocking lightly in the wind.

The driveway was pretty long, Daisy noticed. It was probably what made the inn so charming; a secluded escape from the world.

When she finally arrived at the inn, the first thing she noticed was the Christmas lights enveloping the five great white columns holding the roof above the porch up. The house was completely white, save for the stained-glass windows of the front door, and seemed to disappear in the thick blanket of snow. Daisy took the Colonial-era house in but was shaken from her daydreams when she saw someone leaving the house in a hurry, terror etched onto his face.

Rolling her window down, she called to him- he must’ve been the appraiser Jeffrey had sent- but he only answered with a horrified expression and scurried faster to his car. Daisy quickly rolled her windows back up and pushed her car door open.

“Wait!” She called after him, but he slammed his door shut in front of her, pushing his finger down on the door lock before she could open it.

“Wait!” She called out again, slamming her hand onto his window, but he drove away swiftly.  She ran after him for a few feet, before acknowledging that it would be futile; he was already well down the road.

“Wha-?” She breathed out exasperated as she pulled her pink beanie off her head. Following the car with her eyes, she gazed upon the wonderful view this spot offered of Stowe. She huffed in irritation once more, before spinning around, facing the inn that was causing her so much trouble already.

“Easy job, my ass,” she grumbled to the silence, “How will I get this house appraised without an appraiser?”

She locked her car and stomped over to the inn, kicking the snow off her boots on the porch before knocking on the door. She didn’t even touch it and the door creaked open.

“Seriously? A haunted inn?” She asked the universe.

She stepped inside and was met by the warmth of the wooden interior. At the end of the hallway, she spied a grand piano, memories of her sitting next to her father while he played flooded her mind, but she quickly pushed them back into the dark corners they came from.

“Hello?” Daisy called out. She wandered further into the inn, walking into what she presumed would be the lounge. A great fireplace harboured a smouldering fire. But it was what was atop the mantelpiece that caught Daisy’s eye. An old framed picture rested there. On it stood a man, his gaze piercing the camera.

“Hello,” a voice sounded behind her. Daisy whirled around, clutching the picture frame to her chest.

“How can I help you?” A man- in his early fifties, laughing wrinkles framing his eyes -asked her.

“I’m here to get the paperwork done for the house appraisal.” She said hesitantly.

“I’m afraid you just missed Matthew.”

“I saw him.” Daisy eyed the stranger up and down. “He left in quite a hurry.”

“Probably the ghost scared him away.”

“The ghost?” The tension in Daisy’s shoulders left as she dropped them and she returned the picture to its original spot.

“Though Robbie has never hurt anyone. Not that I know of anyway.”

“So you’re on a first name basis with the ghost, huh?” Daisy asked rhetorically, already annoyed by the fact that this supposed “ghost” was causing her so many problems.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

The man offered his hand, which she shook. “My name is Phillip Coulson, I’m the manager of this inn.”

“Oh.”

“Mrs. Reyes, may God rest her soul, was only the owner of this inn, I took care of it.”

“Then you know she hasn’t any living relatives. This inn is now the property of the Reyes fund.”

Phillip breathed in deeply, touching the marble mantel with the tips of his fingers. “I know.” He said sadly. Daisy felt bad, it was obvious how much this inn meant to the man.

“I’ll call for a new appraiser first thing in the morning.” Daisy changed the subject.

“Where are you staying, if I may ask?”

“Well, this is an inn. I figured I would stay here?”

“Impossible,” Phillip shook his head, “The inn always closes from the thirteenth to the twenty-sixth.”

“It’s only for one night.” She argued back.

“I’ve sent the staff home, there wouldn’t be anybody here!” He shot back.

“I’m a big girl.”

“I’m leaving too, the inn would be locked.”

Daisy grinned smugly, fishing the keys of the inn from her pocket. “Luckily, I have a copy of the keys then, since it’s the property of the fund.”

“You’re tenacious, aren’t you?” A small smile crept onto his face.

Daisy bobbed her head up and down. “That’s why they sent me.” She smiled in return. “Why would you close in high season?” Curiosity got the best of her once again.

His face softened. “Tradition,” he paused, before shaking his head, “I’ll leave you to to get settled then. Don’t forget to enable the alarm system at night.”

Shaking her head, Daisy reassured him. “There won’t be any problem!”

“Not sure about that,” Phillip muttered to himself, quietly enough so Daisy didn’t hear.

She watched through the window of her room how Phillip threw his bags into his pickup. After a nice dinner he had cooked for the both of them, he had told her he had to be on his way. She bade him farewell and set off herself, bag in her hand, upstairs to find a room. She had settled for a comfortable room at the end of the upstairs hallway. It offered a view of the driveway, and the lit up town behind it.

The snow reflected the moonlight and the town lights, bathing the world in an eerie bluish light. Her gaze snapped back to Phillip when he slammed his car door shut. He gazed melancholically toward the inn before stepping into his car and driving away.

The house fell silent. Only the grandfather clock from downstairs ticked slightly, filling the whole inn with a certain tension. Daisy kept staring out the window, as she searched Jeffrey’s cell number in her contact list. Calling him, Daisy turned to her room, settling herself on her bed.

“So your appraiser was a bust,” she started as soon as she heard him pick up, “I’m getting back to Boston to get a new one.” Daisy caressed the comforter she was sitting on absentmindedly. It was soft. “One who’s not caught up in the middle of all those ghost stories.”

“Thank you, Daisy.”

“How are the Bahamas?”

“Warm. How is Vermont?”

“Cold.”

She envied her boss a little. As much as she loved her work, Daisy wanted to escape her life too sometimes and enjoy cocktails at the beach while everyone back in Boston would be freezing their butts off.

“I don’t want to worry about Lucy Reyes while I’m on vacation, Daisy.” He stated.

“You won’t,” she tried to ease him, “I’m handling it!”

“I’m counting on you!”

“Yes, thank you.” She said tiredly, hanging up.

After brushing her teeth and changing into her pajamas, Daisy rushed downstairs, her phone light clutched in her hands, and ticked the activation code into the alarm system. When the small light turned green, telling the alarm was activated, Daisy sprinted back upstairs and into her bed, where she dozed off in a matter of seconds.

“You’re wonderful,” Lincoln said, putting his tableware down. His fork clinked with the edge of his plate, the sound adding to the already loud restaurant they were currently having dinner at.

 

Daisy looked up from her own empty plate, her dessert already on its way to her stomach. She elegantly dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin, then placed it next to her plate.

 

“And I’m lucky to be with you,” he continued. Daisy’s eyebrows shot up, afraid of where this conversation may end.

 

“But I don’t think this is working out,” Lincoln finished, his face scrunched in fear of her response. Slouching down in her chair, Daisy let out a long relieved sigh. Surprise spread on Lincoln’s face.

 

“It’s me right?” Daisy asked. “I’m just not open for love?”

 

“I never said that,” Lincoln defended himself.

 

“No. But Myles did.”

 

“And Grant called me his phantom girlfriend,” Daisy said, putting a finger to her chin, thinking back to all her past boyfriends. “It was cute,” she nodded, “until it wasn’t.”

 

“You heard this before?” Lincoln asked.

 

Daisy hummed, then took a sip of her wine. “Yeah, absolutely. Look I’m not going to pretend I feel something I don’t so...” She trailed off

 

Lincoln nodded slowly, his mouth open in amazement.

 

“Are you going to finish that?” She pointed to Lincoln’s tiramisu, still untouched in front of him. In one swift motion, she leaned forward and took a forkful of his dessert, putting it in her mouth and humming in appreciation. Lincoln stayed still, and Daisy took advantage of it to pull his plate to her, finishing his dessert.

A sudden sound jolted her awake. The room was dark. Daisy scrambled for her phone on her nightstand. She pushed onto the home-button and the screen lit up, telling her it was past midnight. Looking around the room, her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, but she noticed nothing weird and out of place.

Her door flew open.

Daisy jumped, taking her phone but it fell to the floor. She quickly grasped it in her hands and enabled her phone light. Pulling the covers from her, she slid out of her bed, making sure to make as little sound as possible. Descending the stairs, Daisy scanned her surroundings for shadows. Turning into the hallway, she whirled around at the sound of a floorboard creaking behind her. Her fist connected with something solid, before she stumbled backward into a bookcase. A vase, resting on top of it, tipped over and plummeted down onto her head. The silhouette of a face was the last thing she saw before her vision went dark.

Light flooded her eyelids. Daisy blinked a few times before completely opening her eyes. She laid beneath a colorful plaid and her phone laid on the low table in front of her. A crack had formed in what she hoped was her screen protector.

Sitting up, the back of her head started throbbing. She reached for it with her fingers, feeling sore skin covering a bump. Memories of last night entered her mind and that's when Daisy became aware of the piano being played. Though it sounded a little off, Daisy could clearly make out the melody of ‘12 days of Christmas’. Without thinking twice, her feet led her to the origin of the sound.

She walked upon a man sitting at the piano, his back to her. As if he sensed her, his fingers doubted to continue playing, and instead, he turned to her. She was struck with how handsome he looked for an intruder. He was wearing a button-up paired with a tie and waistcoat.

“How is your head?” He asked, still sitting.

“Fine.” Daisy leaned into the doorframe.

“Then you can leave.”

Crossing her arms, Daisy straightened her back. “I’m not leaving. You’re the trespasser!”

“How can I trespass on my own property?” He rose up from his seat, gaining a head in length.

“This inn belongs to the Reyes fund. Leave or I’ll call the sheriff!”

He watched her, his jaw set and his brow quirked in frustration. He took a few steps forward, bending slightly and lifted her out of the blue onto his shoulders. He walked with her outside, dumping her onto the snow-covered porch. Then as quick as he picked her up, he walked inside again, locking the door behind him.

“Hey!” Daisy slammed her palm on the stained glass door window. Then she cursed, reminding herself not to break the property. She took a few steps back, taking out her phone to call the sheriff when the man returned. He opened the door and threw the same plaid she woke up into at her. He slammed it shut again and disappeared inside the house. She dialed the sheriff’s number and waited outside, snuggled into the plaid.

A few minutes later, the sheriff’s car appeared onto the driveway.

“Sheriff Hunter, what seems to be the problem?” He tipped his hat to her as he climbed onto the porch

After telling him what had happened, they entered the house. He did a quick search of the inn, while Daisy waited downstairs. As she warmed back up, she folded the plaid and placed it back on the sofa she had slept onto. Hunter descended the stairs after a couple of minutes, shaking his head.

“Must’ve been a drifter, hiding from the cold. As soon as he saw my car, must’ve fled through the back.”

“He was dressed awfully nice for a drifter. He wore a tie.”

Hunter shrugged his shoulders, by the look of his face he was at a loss. “Some do. Look, all I can do now is check the area.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t forget to put on the alarm system,” Hunter smiled kindly.

“I did!” Daisy vindicated. “Well, at least I think I did.” She started to doubt her actions, maybe all of it was just an effect of her possible concussion.

With that, Hunter left. Daisy ticked the code in the alarm system and walked to the kitchen. On her way, she passed a frame hanging on the hallway wall. Inside was a picture of the man she had seen and a newspaper article, telling about the death of Robbie Reyes.

“It’s all in my head,” she told herself as she went upstairs. But as she walked into her bedroom, she locked the door. Better be safe than sorry, she thought. She stepped into her bathroom, taking her brush and combing her short hair when she heard a sound coming from the bedroom. Carefully, she treaded to the door, peering outside. He was in her bedroom, leaning onto the end of her bed. She jumped.

“I do not want to hurt you. I just want my solitude and that is paired with your departure.”

Daisy scrambled hurriedly for her phone, jumped back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut with a loud bang. After locking the door, she called the Sheriff.

A few minutes later, someone knocked on the door. Daisy opened it, looking sheepishly at Hunter wearing a disappointed look on his face. They descended the stairs together, while Hunter assured her again that no one was in the house.

“He was in my room,” she defended herself.

“How is your head?” he recalled Daisy telling him how a vase had struck her from above.

“I’m not hallucinating!”

“Just turn on the alarm system this time,” he said, as he walked outside, tipping his hat to bid her goodbye.

“I did!” exasperated she closed the door behind the sheriff and turned back to the alarm. Punching the code in, she watched intently as the light turned green. Then she walked toward the kitchen.

“I do know the code.”

Daisy whirled around. Robbie was fiddling with the alarm system, disabling it. Knitting her eyebrows together, Daisy glared at him.

“Are you in my head?”

“I don’t know. You tell me,” he grinned cockily, “It’s your head.”

He turned the corner into the lounge and Daisy followed him, but as soon as she rounded the corner, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh come on!” She yelled in irritation. “Stop doing that!”

“First meeting did not go so well, I presume?”

She turned to see Phillip standing in the entry, hanging his wet coat on a hanger.

“Could you please stop doing that?”

At Phillip’s confused expression, she added: “Appearing out of nowhere? The both of you?”

“I came from outside.” He explained.

“I appear out of nowhere.” Robbie’s voice sounded behind her. With a loud huff, Daisy whipped her face to him, glaring daggers.

“I have a possible concussion, so if someone would give me an explanation for,” she motioned her arms in circles, “all of this, that would be nice.”

“He’s a ghost,” Phillip said weakly.

“I’m not buying the whole ghost thing! Last I checked, you can’t touch ghosts.” In one big step, Daisy moved next to Robbie, taking his right arm with her hand. He froze, it had been a long time since someone had touched him, let alone talk to him. He had told himself he preferred his solitude, but the more he spent time with Daisy and the vibrant life she emitted, the more he thought that he had only fooled himself.

Daisy let go of his arm after proving her point to Phillip. A shiver ran through him at the sudden coldness.

“Should we tell her?”

“Tell me what?”

“Robbie only takes his human form for twelve days, from the thirteenth to the twenty-fifth.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe that?” Daisy huffed incredulously.

“I’ll prove it to you,” he said as he offered his hand. Daisy looked at him, then at Phillip, who nodded slightly. Hesitantly she placed her hand in his. He pulled her to the garden, where he led her to four pillars.

“I’m limited to the edges of this property,” he explained as he turned to her, their hands still interlocked. He stood still for a few seconds, staring at her silently, but then he took a step backward and disappeared. Daisy stumbled backward at the loss of his grip but quickly regained her footing despite the slippery snow. She walked to where Robbie was standing merely a few seconds ago, flailing her hands around to make sure there was nothing there.

“Because invisibility is so much more logical than being a ghost…” Daisy reprimanded herself. Then what had happened dawned on her: Robbie’s a ghost. She ran back to the inn and threw the door open. There she was met by Robbie sitting on the stairs, calmly eating an apple.

“Now do you believe me?” He asked between two bites.

“Yes, but if you think I’m leaving now, you’re wrong!”

Robbie stopped chewing and sighed disappointedly, letting his shoulders sag. He pushed himself off the stairs and followed Daisy into the kitchen where she started frying Phillip for answers. Robbie opened the fridge, studied the contents and took out a piece of the chicken Daisy and Phillip had eaten together the evening before. He sauntered to the dining room, plopped down onto a chair and started eating.

“He sure eats a lot for a ghost,” Daisy said, leaning onto the kitchen doorframe.

Phillip stood next to her, crossing his arms. “He says it’s more about the sensation.”

They both tilted their head to the side, studying Robbie closely.

“I can hear you,” he muttered between two mouthfuls.

“What happened?” Daisy asked Phillip. The older man shook his head.

“I don’t know. I’ve never talked to him, save for our very first interaction many years ago.”

“I can still hear you.” Robbie looked up from his plate, glaring at the both of them.

“What happened?” Daisy directed her question to Robbie, stepping closer to him.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then threw it on the table. Finished with his meal, he took his plate and walked into the kitchen, placing it gently into the kitchen sink.

“I don’t know.”

Moving to the living room, he set himself into an armchair, took the book lying on the side-table and started reading. Not even five seconds later, Daisy appeared in front of him.

“Don’t you want to know what happened?”

“Of course, but I don’t remember a thing.”

“Maybe we need to figure out how you died? Maybe it’ll help you move on. Don’t you want to move on?”

Placing his index finger on the page he was currently at, he closed the book and rested it on his lap.

“More than you know.”

“Then I’ll help you, starting tomorrow,” Daisy said as she turned away, ready to go upstairs and crash into her bed, the last twelve hours had taken their toll on her. She remembered something suddenly.

“Don’t come into my room.”

“I would not.”

She spun towards him; he was still sitting calmly in the armchair.

“You did.”

“I would not now.”

Satisfied with his response, she nodded.

“What would your husband say about you being here all alone?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Your beau then?” His brow quirked questioningly.

“Don’t have one of those either.”

He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Daisy.

“And if you start telling me I’m an old single maiden, it will not end well for you.”

Robbie rubbed his jaw, a small smile playing on his lips. The memory of her fist colliding with his face before a vase fell down on her head resurfaced, but as she studied his jaw, she saw no indication that he had been hit. Maybe he had ghost powers preventing him from getting hurt. Daisy quickly tossed that thought aside, she wasn’t going to start pondering over ghost physics; that was one step too far.

“Times have changed!”

She crossed her arms, standing defensively opposite him.

“People don’t fall in love?”

“Some do. I haven’t.” She mulled over her words for a moment. “Goodnight.”

With that, she left his sight, and the world seemed bleaker again to Robbie.

Chapter Text

“I just got you back, Robbie!” Gabe cried out, holding onto Robbie’s sleeve desperately.

“I won’t be away for long,” Robbie reassured him in vain. Gabe shook his head.

“Why isn’t this enough?” Gabe asked as he gestured his hands for the whole inn. 

“This has always been your dream, Gabe,” he said, squatting down next to his wheelchair and taking his head in the palms of his hands. “I’ll be fine, I’ve got Eli with me.” Robbie waved at their uncle, waiting patiently in the doorframe of the living room. 

“You’ll come back, won’t you?” Sadness tainted his brother’s voice, which broke Robbie’s heart. He hated seeing him hurt. His anger had raged inside his veins when Robbie had returned from the Great War a few months after Gabe. Robbie had left unscathed. Gabe had lost the use of his legs.

Eli had assured him money. He had needed it. But he’d come back.

He had promised that 95 years ago. Now, Robbie watched how the snowflakes fell through the window. He scanned the ground, finding the spot where he had had his last memory of his life.

A cough behind him.

He looked over his shoulder where Daisy was studying him with a spark of curiosity in her eyes. He turned around fully, leaving the past to his memories, and looked at the present. Daisy scanned the room he often spent his time in. Old knick-knacks and dusty furniture littered the place, but Robbie found the antiquity comforting; TVs and mobile phones unnerved him.

Her eyes fell on an old photograph of him and his brother. “Who’s this?”

“My brother, Gabe,” he answered. It had been quite some time since he last spoke his brother’s name out loud but it filled him with warmth. 

“He looks handsome.” She smiled. “Must be a family trait.”

Robbie’s mouth fell open in surprise, which made Daisy blush as she realized what she had said. Amused, he tilted his head to the side and moved closer. 

Daisy avoided his gaze and busied herself with some of the stuff that was lying about. Her focus fell on a miniature antique Ford. She took it in her hands and with her thumb, traced the edges. The wheels, sharp from usage, scraped her fingertips as she went over them.

“That belonged to my brother.” Robbie stared melancholically at the toy car.

“Did he like cars?”

“No,” he shook his head, a soft smile on his face, “I did. I was a mechanic.”

“Did they have those in the nineteen-twenties?” she joked.

“Yes, they did.” Robbie opened his mouth to continue, but stopped as if he had made up his mind not to share what he was going to say.

Daisy’s eyes snapped to him, hearing the abrupt ending of his sentence, and enquired: “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I don’t want your judgement.” His cast his eyes down, a red stain growing from his neck to his ears in shame.

“You won’t”

“Those were different times back then,” Robbie trailed off and glanced around the dusty room, which itself emphasized his words.

She took three big steps until she stood before him. “Don’t stop there,” she whispered, her hand drifted toward his and her fingers grazed the back of his hand.

“My uncle had made the Prohibition his job, smuggling alcohol into the borders for some guy. I helped him out sometimes.”

“You were a bootlegger?”

“I did not partake in the smuggling specifically, but I did modify the cars to better hide the illegal goods and outrun the authorities.”

Daisy huffed in disbelief, but before she could say anything, Robbie grumbled angrily, “See, I knew you would torment me with your judgement.”

She threw her hands in the air. “I’m not judging you!”

Robbie crossed his arms, his face scrunched up in annoyance.

“Besides, why do you care what I think? You wanted me gone, remember?”

“I have no idea,” he said as he looked her up and down, uncrossing his arms. “But I do.”

Daisy’s face fell blank, a simple ‘oh’ escaping her mouth. Having no retort, she watched him as he turned his back to her, broodingly gazing out the window.

He looked lost, Daisy thought, and alone. She felt for him. She knew the heart-wrenching feeling of loneliness - her parents only a hazy memory - of feeling as if the whole world is pitted against you; no matter what you do, you’ll always be by yourself.

She took a few steps closer, the floorboard creaking underneath her feet. His head tilted to the side at the sound. Sunlight illuminated part of his face. 

It caught on his freckles, the light-brown dots composing perfect shimmering constellations on his cheeks. 

It caught on every dust particle, and they seemed to dance as they floated around him. 

Something in her told Daisy he needed her, and the universe, bathing him into a warm halo - a perfect contrast to the stark cold outside - seemed to tell her she needed him.

“I will try my best to figure out how you died.” He slowly turned around at her soft voice. “We’ll do it together.”

“Why?” She saw in his eyes that he truly didn’t understand why she would help him. She hadn’t quite figured it out herself, though the sunlight peeking out from behind him, framing his face in a perfect halo, showed her she would.

“You deserve it,” she said after thinking a few seconds about the answer. “And I need this house appraised before Christmas.” She gave him a one-sided grin, assuring him it was only a joke.

He breathed out happily, the tension slowly leaving his shoulders as he stared at her.

“Also, there’s a guest downstairs.” She offered him her hand, which he took, and together they made their way to the living room. Hand-in-hand, leaving past memories to the dusty old room.

---

“It could do you good,” Daisy told him. Melinda May, owner of The Cavalry, a pub downtown came to them, and more specifically to Phil, to ask if the Hollygrove Inn could host the annual Christmas Eve party because her pub’s pipes broke. Robbie had scowled and told her ‘no’, upon which Daisy dragged him to the next room after Melinda had left, scolding him for his antisocial behaviour.

“I’ve been alone in this inn every Christmas for over 80 years,” he defended, “I think I’m good.”

“Oh and you’re so happy?” she scoffed, shaking her head.

“I’m perfectly content!”

“I don’t believe you, no one likes to be alone on Christmas!” She shouted, tears pricking at the back of her eyes, although she quickly blinked them away. Every Christmas she’d spend alone crying, until she decided working through the holidays was a much better alternative than throwing herself a pity party each year. Though she’d never forgotten to put up her Christmas tree, the only tradition she had held from her time at the orphanage.

“I don’t see you eager to return home for Christmas, leaving your family and friends while you’re working on this inn!”

Pain shot through her chest at his stinging words, and she could feel herself becoming livid.

“I’m not the one who left his begging brother behind on Christmas. To sell illegal goods, even! You had a family! I have no one!”

She whirled around, her face red and tears spilling from her eyes, and marched out of the room. The floorboards creaked angrily beneath her, every step she took enunciating the hurt she felt inside.

Robbie tried to hold her back, “Daisy, I’m sorry. Wait.” His hand missed her arm by a few inches. 

Daisy couldn’t bear staying in this inn with him a minute longer, the air felt too thick and it was getting harder to breathe through the knot in her throat. She stepped outside and walked to her car. She knew he was watching her from his window; she could feel his eyes burning into her back, but she didn’t care. 

“Let him feel bad,” she muttered, her breath leaving puffs of hot air in the cold. 

After stepping into her car and slamming the door shut, she groaned in frustration, then ignited her car, set it in first gear, and drove off the long driveway.

At the end of the driveway, though, she knew she couldn’t leave, not until she had the inn appraised. Additionally, there was this nagging voice in her head telling her she didn’t even want to leave. It had only been six days since she had arrived, but she liked it there. She rather enjoyed her late night scrabbles with Phil; she liked the crackling of the fireplace and the snow that was draped over the whole scenery as a calming balm; she even appreciated the piano notes that floated through the house every time Robbie played, only faltering between keys now and then.

She let out a heavy sigh, then abruptly turned right onto the main road, completely ignoring the road sign telling her Boston was on the left. 

“I wouldn’t be able to go to Boston anyway,” she said to herself. The house still needed to be appraised, and Mace wouldn’t have taken it lightly if she had simply up and left before finishing her work. All her stuff was in the inn as well. However, the main reason she couldn’t bring herself to leave, although she would never say it out loud, had more to do with a freckled face and surprisingly warm brown eyes.

She sighed again as she drove through the small town. She was still angry, and she did still need time to cool off. Returning to the inn at that instant would only press all the facts Robbie had told her further in her face. What he had said had held some truth; Daisy had been excited when Phil had wanted to accept Melinda’s offer to host the annual Christmas party at the inn. It would have made a nice change from her usual Christmases: working all day only to crash onto her couch in the evening with her choice of takeaway and a Hallmark Christmas movie playing on her TV. Her mother had died when she was an infant, her father had left her days after the accident, and Daisy, after being rejected by a foster family for the 32nd time, had decided that being close to anyone wasn’t worth the pain. 

Robbie refusing the offer made her want to scream at how selfish he was being. He’d rather be alone but that didn’t mean everyone else did. 

She drove through the town and passed The Cavalry, the windows were decorated with holly, but, indeed, as Melinda had told them, the lights were off and it didn’t seem like the pub was open. 

She drove a little further, noticing a Christmas tree yard. A memory of a past conversation popped up in her head, and she quickly parked her car at the side of the road. Stepping out into the cold, she tugged her scarf behind the lapels of her coat, blocking the wind from reaching her neck. 

Walking toward the yard, her boots crunched in the snow. She focused on that particular sound instead of the cars driving by and the few people chatting in the streets. Upon entering the Christmas tree yard, Daisy looked up, finally noticing the Christmas lights decorating the walls. She puffed, her breath forming a cloud in the air, and her eyes followed the wisp of damp rising.

“Cold, huh?”

Daisy’s eyes snapped to the person speaking to her. The man, he must’ve been over 6 feet tall, Daisy assumed by the way he towered above her, was holding his hands beneath his armpits as if to emphasize his question. 

Daisy nodded, pulling her coat tighter around herself instinctively.

“Are you looking for a particular tree?”

“You work here?” She asked surprised. Though he seemed to have the lumberjack look down with his dark-green beanie and red flannel peeking out from underneath his puffed jacket.

“I hope so, otherwise I’ve been dragging Christmas trees all around town for free.” He smiled brightly.

Daisy laughed, then hummed pensively. “I’d love a big tree, but one that can fit on top of my Prius.”

“We’ve got lots of big trees.” He walked further into the yard, prompting Daisy to follow him. “Got any specific kind in mind?”

She shook her head.

“You want a full one? One that smells?” His fingers brushed the needles of the trees they passed by.

“I’d love one that smells like Christmas,” Daisy said, then hoped her sentence didn’t sound stupid. Luckily, the man simply smiled and said, “I’ve got the perfect one for you!”

---

She dragged the tree to her car and bound it to her roof, well, Mack, the man had introduced himself, did, she simply watched while smiling apologetically. After bidding him goodbye, and thanking him until he waved her off uncomfortably, she drove off back to the inn. 

Coming up on the driveway, Daisy was struck with how sad and lonely the inn looked. The cracked white paint made it blend almost perfectly with the dreary darkening sky. Her thoughts stormed inside her head until they settled on one belief.

He had become comfortable in his own loneliness and pity.

She had her job, her few friends and human connection for all the years she was alone.

He hadn't. More so, he couldn’t, because how could a ghost that only lives for thirteen days a year have a life?

Stepping into the cold, Daisy turned toward her car and undid the rope that kept her tree from falling. She dragged the tree up to the inn, leaving a trail of green needles in the snow. The air became crisper as she went up the last step; it would snow later that evening. Stomping the snow from her boots on the porch, she quickly fished her keys from her pocket and opened the door. Once inside, she was greeted by the smell of cinnamon and ginger, and Phil’s head poking out of the kitchen.

“Ah, you’re back!” Phil exclaimed, his two oven mitts clapping happily.

“Of course I’m back. Where would I have gone?”

“Back to Boston? I don’t know, Robbie was certain you’d leave.”

“You forget I have a job to do here.” Daisy winked, then turned around again and pulled the Christmas tree inside.

“You mean, selling the inn or decorating that tree?” Phil stepped out of the kitchen, but not before throwing his oven mitts away. “You need some help?”

“Would love that,” she panted. “I don’t know how Mack can carry these single-handedly.”

“You’ve met our resident Superman then?”

“Oh, he’s Superman?” Daisy laughed, “that explains a lot.”

Phil picked the tree stump up while Daisy held the top of the tree and together they carried it to the living room. When they were satisfied with its place, Phil dropped the stump to the floor. “I should have a Christmas tree stand somewhere in the shed. I’ll be right back!”

Daisy went to look for a pair of scissors and cut the net squishing the tree. As soon as it was free, the branches bounced back to their original shape and a pine tree smell engulfed the whole room. Phil entered the room again, carrying a tree stand and placed it underneath the stump. 

Daisy hummed as she surveyed the tree. The green needles were even more vibrant in front of the room’s red wallpaper then when she saw the tree back at the yard. A fond memory surfaced in her mind. Her favourite nun at the orphanage, Sister Robin, favoured her as well. One Christmas, when Robin was to put the angel on top of the tree, Daisy had walked into the room. She had winked and given the angel to Daisy. It felt fragile in her little hands. Sister Robin had lifted Daisy, and she had placed the angel on the tree. That Christmas, every time Daisy would look at the tree, she felt proud she was the one that had managed to reach up that high. When Robin saw her, she always offered Daisy a small, knowing smile.

Phil looked outside. “Is it that late already?”

Daisy followed his gaze and saw the sky darkening. She had spent almost the whole afternoon in town after storming out the inn this morning.

“I better start dinner, otherwise we won’t eat until late,” he said and left for the kitchen.

“I better start looking for decorations then.”

“Here they are.” 

Daisy jumped at the voice behind her. She quickly turned around and found Robbie standing in the doorway, a large, green box in his hands. 

“You really should stop with the jump scares.” She couldn’t help but smile as she saw him. She thought he wouldn’t want her here anymore after what she had said this morning.

He looked sheepish. “Sorry,” he mumbled. She didn’t know if he was sorry for startling her or for this morning. Perhaps both. Either way, she said, “It’s okay.”

He walked further into the room and put the box down on a nearby armchair. 

“Let’s see what we’re working with,” Daisy said giddily. She loved decorating her tree. Everything else about Christmas might suck, but decorating wasn’t one of them. With Daisy watching over his shoulder, Robbie opened the box.

Daisy peered inside, bringing her face close to his. Robbie felt her warm breath tickling his cheek and abandoned all interest in the contents of the box. As Daisy rummaged through the ornaments and lights, he watched her expressions chase each other across her face. A frown when she saw something she didn’t like. Puckered lips when she thought about where to put a particular ornament. A smile which she kept from becoming too broad by biting her lip when she saw something she did like. Finally, her eyes lit up, much brighter than the tree could ever light up when they would be done. She pulled a small wooden angel out. It was broken; one of its wings was missing.

Yet it seemed like she didn’t mind. Her eyes were full of love while looking at that broken thing.

Seeming to notice his attention, she looked up and their eyes locked. The love in hers didn’t disappear. Robbie didn’t know how she did it, but his broken pieces seemed to puzzle themselves back together under her gaze.

Warmth spread throughout his chest. It was a peculiar feeling; one he hadn’t felt for decades. All thoughts seemed to leave his mind as he stared perplexed into her brown eyes. 

He cleared his throat. “Let’s look for the other wing.” However, he took a step away from the box, and her. The room felt too small.

Daisy ducked her head, her hair hiding her face for a few moments, then looked back up while taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“And lights,” he said, stupidly.

“Yes, and other ornaments,” she laughed. “Luckily, we have a big box of all that right here.”

“Ha. Right.”

She pulled out a long line of intertwined lines and set out to untangle them. Meanwhile, Robbie searched for the other angel’s wing in the box. When Daisy had two separate light strips, she pulled on Robbie’s arm to help her sling them in the tree. The lights were followed by the ornaments, but before they could place the angel on top, they were called to dinner by Phil.

“Did you find the missing wing?” Daisy asked at which Robbie shook his head. Broken cannot always be fixed.

“Missing wing?” Phil set the oven dish on a coaster in the middle of the table. 

“The angel’s missing wing. For on top of the tree,” Daisy explained.

“Is it made out of wood by any chance?”

Daisy nodded, taking a large piece of Phil’s lasagne and scooping it on her plate. 

At her confirmation, he rummaged one of the kitchen drawers. Robbie recognized it as the one where clutter was usually kept in.

“Could it be this one?” He held a piece of wood in front of him. Robbie disappeared into the living room and returned with the angel. He put the broken wing next to the ornament. A perfect fit. “I found it lying around when cleaning up after Ms. Lucy passed away. I always wondered what it was.”

“See?” Daisy said in-between mouthfuls. “Anything broken is fixable. I was almost ready to mould her a new wing out of clay.”

“I’ve got some wood glue lying around.” Phil scoured another drawer and returned with a tube of glue. After piecing the angel back together, he sat at the table and motioned for Robbie to do the same. “It should be strong enough to put on the tree after we have eaten.”

After dinner, Phil excused himself and retired early, which left Daisy and Robbie alone to put the angel in the tree. 

“I missed this,” Robbie admitted while admiring the angel up high. 

“Hmm?” 

“Having a tree for Christmas.” He turned toward her. The flickering lights danced across her peaceful face. A content smile appeared on her lips. “I think I grew used to being alone and fooled myself into thinking I liked it.”

He turned back to the tree, both silently admiring their work.

“God, I miss Gabe.” He let his head drop in defeat. 

A warm hand slid into his. “I’ll make sure you’ll have a Christmas tree every year.” He intertwined his fingers with hers and squeezed in thanks. They stood there, hand in hand, for another few moments, until it was time to go to bed.

“Good night, Robbie,” She said softly, hanging in front of her room’s door, not wanting to leave the bubble she and Robbie found themselves in.

“Sleep tight, Daisy,” he answered. His feet begged him to walk to her. However, he turned around and walked the other way. Still, the warmth stayed in his chest, even when she left his sight. 

It stayed all through the night.