Chapter Text
Bright and early the following day, Beca again woke up to the smell of coffee wafting from downstairs. She quickly dressed and padded down the stairs, remembering that today was ‘French Toast day.’ Owen bubbly greeted her and informed her that the sooner she helped him set the table, the sooner they could eat.
Chloe laughed. “O, baby. Let Beca at least make her coffee first.” Beca hurriedly doctored her coffee and took a few healthy swallows, burning her tongue, then started getting the plates from the cabinet for Owen. “I thought you’d be a ‘drink her coffee black’ kinda girl,” teased Chloe.
Beca shook her head as she sipped more of the caffeine. “You have heavy cream, the good stuff. Now if it’s that powdered crap, I typically bypass that and choke down the brew black. But I’ll never pass up a chance at good cream for my coffee.”
Chloe was soaking huge slabs of freshly cut bread in a concoction of eggs, milk, vanilla, and cinnamon. As she cooked the French Toast, she had sausage links browning in another pan. “Would you mind getting the fruit out of the refrigerator?” Beca complied and also found the powdered sugar and syrup. She was surprised at how domestic she felt in the kitchen of this near stranger she’d only met a few days prior.
As the three sat down to eat, Owen chattered about how much he looked forward to the holiday festival. Chloe told him she’d arranged for him to spend the day at Tommy’s. “But I want to play with Beca.”
“Baby, I’m sure Beca has other things to do today, so you need to go to Tommy’s. You can find me tonight selling cookies at the festival.”
They finished eating, and everyone helped clean the kitchen. Owen kept talking endlessly, and Chloe seemed to be in another world as she went through the motions of putting things away. Beca watched the mother, wondering what had caused the change in demeanor from the carefree person she’d seen yesterday.
When Chloe sent Owen upstairs, Beca lingered behind. “Hey, you okay?”
Chloe paused for a moment, then turned to face her. “... yeah.”
“You sure? You seem distracted.” Chloe assured her things were alright. When Beca told her she’d dipped into Chloe’s scotch stash - to add it to her bill - Chloe simply waved her off. Beca shrugged and went back to her room.
After another unsuccessful round of reaching her employees, Beca felt suspicious that something was going on in her office. She was frustrated that her trip to rural South Dakota to recruit new talent was fruitless, and she got stuck in Noel until after Christmas. She made a mental note not to travel out of California close to the holidays ever again. And if she did, go somewhere tropical.
Beca went downstairs after showering and readying for the Holiday Bazaar later that day. She hoped internet service was restored, and she could determine what was happening at the music studio in Los Angeles. She heard Chloe talking as she rounded the last landing and paused, not wanting to interrupt the woman’s conversation.
Beca didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But Chloe seemed quite upset, and Beca couldn’t help listening in. Of course, Beca could only hear one side of the phone call. Chloe seemed to be pleading with someone. “What’s one more week, Mr. Monahan?” She paused. “Give me until after the new year. I promise. If I can’t figure something out, I stop fighting.” Chloe paused again. “I know you were Daddy’s best friend. Thank you for being so lenient. I just need to find a place for Owen and me to go.”
Chloe ended the conversation and slumped in her chair. Beca decided she could safely enter the room. “Hey,” she said softly. “You want to talk?” The redhead sniffled and reached to the side table for a tissue to dab her eyes. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I heard some of your conversation.”
“I’m losing the inn, and I don’t know how to tell Owen. It’s the only home he’s ever known.” Chloe’s face was mournful, a picture of sadness. “The banker grew up with my father and has held off on foreclosure as long as possible. But I’m afraid we’re out of time. The sad thing is, I’ve been pretending that this wasn’t happening. Now, Owen and I have to move out next week and don’t have any place to go.”
Beca reached out and placed her hand on Chloe’s arm to comfort her. She didn’t quite know what to say. Still, the innkeeper was so distraught about having no place to go for her son. So Beca said, “things always have a way of working themselves out in the end. Hang in there, Chloe.”
Because downtown wasn’t too far away and the snow had stopped falling, Chloe and Beca decided to walk to the bazaar. As they left the inn, Owen came racing home to join his mother. As they walked, Owen had another chance to show off his hometown to his guest as if they hadn’t explored Noel the day before. Chloe and Beca carried baskets of decorated cookies wrapped in red and green colored cellophane, tied with curly cue candy cane ribbon. By the time they had deposited their baskets of sweets at the booth, Owen was bouncing on the balls of his feet. He’d obviously been looking forward to the festival for quite some time.
“Can I show Beca all the booths, Mama?”
“It’s may I, O. And that’s up to Beca.” Chloe looked at Beca apologetically. But the brunette flashed a grin and held her hand out for the boy to pull her around the festival. The redhead arranged her goods on her table and settled back in her chair as she watched her son and his new best friend disappear into the crowd.
After a while, the now rosy-faced boy showed up at the booth with Beca in tow. Beca was carrying a tray of three apple cider drinks with steam rising off the liquid. Both she and Owen deposited bags beneath the table, garnering solemn promises from Chloe not to peek. Then they warmed up with the spicy, cinnamon drinks.
Before long, the church tower began to chime. “Oh, Mama! It’s almost time to sing!” He began to pull her out of her chair and push her toward the stage while Beca looked on in amusement. She hadn’t known there would be a choral performance but was quite interested.
“What about your goods,” Beca asked.
Chloe waved her off, saying that prices were marked on the cookies and most people just put money in her jar. “And if they don’t, they need the cookies more than I need the money.” She laughed as she let her son pull her toward the stage.
Beca found an excellent place to stand to watch the choir. Suddenly, Owen was back at her side, his little hand tucked into hers. “Does your mom sing, Owen?” Her heart warmed that the young boy was so enamored with her presence.
He nodded his head. “Not as much anymore, though. But Christmas time is her favorite. She never misses the Holiday Bazaar. They even give her a…” He scrunched his face up, trying to remember. “What’s it called when you sing by yourself?”
“A solo?” Beca prompted.
“Yeah, a solo.” He yanked on her hand. “Look, they are starting.”
Beca glanced back at the stage where a choir had filed onto the risers. They were wearing white gowns with white and gold wings. The choir started with a few fun songs and then traditional ones, all easy for the crowd to sing along with. Then, a petite redhead approached the mic, and the crowd got quiet.
Chloe began to sing.
Silent night, holy night!
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child.
Holy infant so tender and mild,
As the song continued, Beca tore her eyes away from the singer with the angelic voice and fixated on a spot on the ground so she could listen, actually listen. This song was one of the ones with those long phrases that challenged one’s breathing. Only someone with proper voice training could use their breath support to hit those high notes.
Beca kept listening for weak, flat, and ugly notes that normally came when untrained vocalists tried to sing this song solo, but those notes never came. Each was as beautiful as the last. Beca whipped out her phone as the song ended and texted her assistant.
[From Beca: I don’t know what the hell is going on in that studio, but if you want a job in 2024, you will call me. First thing tomorrow morning. I don’t care that it’s Christmas Eve.]
She shoved her phone back in her pocket and listened to the rest of the choral concert with Owen.
When the choir finished, Owen pulled Beca towards the stage, weaving in and out of people. When he found Chloe, he launched towards his mom and wrapped his arms around her legs. “You sounded beautiful, Mama. Didn’t she sound like an angel, Beca?”
“Yeah, kid. Here, let me help you with those.” Chloe tried to remove her robe, but the wings were getting in the way. She handed Chloe the loose robe. “Nice solo,” she said. “You’re a singer.”
Chloe smiled shyly. “Mostly Christmas songs now.” She motioned to the town around her. “Living in Noel and all.” The redhead seemed uncomfortable talking any more about the performance and changed the subject. She kneeled down to her son’s level. “I saw some booths I want to check out before we go. How about you go run the cookie booth? You are such a better salesman than me.” Owen thought that was a good idea and took off running back to the table.
“I meant what I said,” Beca said quietly as she and Chloe wandered around checking out the wares. “You’ve had vocal training.”
“Christmas songs are easy,” Chloe said, dismissing the compliment.
“I beg to differ. O’ Holy Night and Silent Night are two of the most difficult songs to sing. They require voice and breath control as well as range. And before you protest again, remember what I do for a living.” Beca gave her a knowing look.
Chloe looked away, suddenly finding the kitschy wooden reindeer she held quite interesting. “We didn’t sing O’Holy Night.”
“I heard you yesterday in the kitchen.” Beca was matter of fact. “Where did you train?”
“Barden College,” Chloe sighed. “I attended as a vocal major for two years before Daddy got sick. Then I came home to Noel to take care of him and run the inn. You know the rest. Married, pregnant, dumped and here I am, about to lose everything I have.” Chloe’s eyes were glistening with tears. “Oh, listen to me. The Bazaar is supposed to be about enjoying Christmas and having fun. No more sadness.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Someone once told me things always have a way of working themselves out in the end, right?”
Beca woke up to her phone ringing. She grabbed it from the nightstand and answered with a gruff hello. Her assistant immediately launched into a long tirade of excuses about why Beca couldn’t get in touch with anyone.
“Hush,” Beca barked. “Just hush. None of that matters.” Beca told her assistant that she may have found the ‘next big act’ she’d been searching for since she started at Titanium Records. “I know it’s Christmas Eve. And I know you probably gave the staff off since I won’t be back in town for a while. But I need you to do something for me.” Beca explained what she needed, that things probably wouldn’t be able to be finalized until after Christmas, but she wanted everything to be in place for when the town opened up again.
Her assistant apologized again for closing the studio, but Beca stopped her. “I don’t care about any of that. Just do this one thing for me today, okay? Oh, and Merry Christmas.” Beca disconnected the phone. She sat staring at her phone in her hand, trying to remember how long it’d been since she’d told anyone Merry Christmas.
After getting dressed, Beca headed down the stairs and could hear Chloe humming in the kitchen as she made breakfast. “Good morning,” Beca said as she entered the kitchen. The innkeeper returned the greeting cheerfully and let her know the food was nearly ready. Beca wondered how Chloe could stay so positive with her world crumbling around her.
After a delicious breakfast of homemade biscuits and sausage gravy, Beca told Chloe she needed to run a few errands before everything closed on Christmas Day. “Oh, so our festive town has brought you into the spirit of Christmas,” the innkeeper teased since Beca had told her why the holiday was her least favorite time of year. Beca laughed and admitted that she would pick out some kitschy Noel souvenirs for her staff back in Los Angeles. Chloe offered to drive her, but Beca claimed the walk would do her good and that she needed the fresh air.
Luckily, Noel had only two main roads, so the first building she sought was easy to find. She wanted to stop here first in case the office closed early for Christmas. Fortunately, the internet access had returned, so Beca had everything her assistant had prepared. Once her business there was complete, she headed to her second stop of the day.
Beca felt nervous when she stomped the snow off her boots before entering the Noel National Bank. After asking for Mr. Monahan, the secretary directed Beca to a small waiting area. She nervously twisted the bottom of her sweater around her fingers while waiting for the head banker to finish.
Beca introduced herself to Mr. Monahan as she sat across his desk. “I apologize for not making an appointment, but I’m here to talk to you about the Beale Inn.”
His face became somber. “I’ve held off as long as possible, but the board is forcing me to foreclose. Ms. Beale has until December 31 to vacate the inn.”
The two had a lengthy conversation, and Beca showed him the paperwork she’d brought from her first appointment. After some calculations, the banker scribbled a figure on a slip of paper and pushed it toward the music producer. Beca then retreated to an empty office to make a phone call and nervously waited for the confirmation. She began twisting her sweater again and tapping her feet, stomach in knots. She knew in her heart of hearts that she was doing the right thing. She only hoped that Chloe felt the same way.
After receiving confirmation, she informed the banker’s secretary that she was ready to speak to him again. He signed off on a stack of papers, slid them into a manila envelope and handed it to Beca. He stood up and shook her hand.
“Thanks for making the holidays brighter for the Beales and, frankly, for me, too. I grew up with her daddy, and this foreclosure has weighed on me more than she knows. I’ve always felt responsible for her after her daddy died and that good-for-nothing ex-husband of hers ran off, leaving her with a bed and breakfast to run and to raise that boy on her own. I mean, who would leave their child like that?”
The banker’s words put Beca at ease, ensuring she’d made the right decision. Before returning to the Beale Inn, she stopped at local stores to pick up some things for her employees. They would get a kick at the obvious Christmas-themed presents and from hearing her tale of being trapped over the holidays in a Christmas town. Beca enjoyed picking out the small gifts and planning to tell them about her experience. She grinned. Maybe Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.
During dinner on Christmas Eve, Owen was once again chattering away. Beca could barely keep up with his excitement. Suddenly, he got quiet, and Beca sensed she’d missed something. She snapped back to the conversation between the boy and his mom.
“You aren’t going caroling, Mama?” The boy’s face was serious as he looked at his mother curiously. “You always go every year. You love to sing, especially at Christmas.”
“Not this year, baby.” She looked at him with a kind smile and patted his hand. “We have a guest, plus maybe I want to spend Christmas Eve with my favorite son.”
Owen laughed. “I’m your only son. Beca won’t mind. She can go with us.” He was rather persistent about his mother going caroling since apparently, it was a tradition at the Beale household. Chloe insisted she wasn’t going this year and finally stopped his pestering.
Beca felt the innkeeper wanted to spend the evening with her son because she thought this would be her last Christmas in their family home, and Chloe wanted to savor every last moment. After dinner, Beca poured each a glass of traditional eggnog she’d picked up while she was out. She climbed up to Chloe’s makeshift liquor cabinet and found some cognac. Tipping some amber liquid into her glass, she raised her eyebrows at Chloe, who nodded for a nip in hers.
As the three sat in the front room enjoying the fire and the eggnog, the faint singing sounds grew louder. “They’re here, Mama.” Owen excitedly got up, pulled on his coat and opened the front door. There stood a small group of townspeople who were singing a variety of Christmas songs. Chloe stood behind her son, holding his hands, swaying back and forth. During the second song, the redhead began to sing with them.
The makeshift choir probably stayed longer than they did at other houses, and Chloe seemed much lighter when they left. “I love hearing you sing, Mama.” Owen turned around and buried his face in her stomach. “You have the voice of an angel.”
Beca had quietly watched all the while but couldn’t agree more with what the young boy had said.
Christmas morning couldn’t come early enough for Owen. He raced down the stairs to check under the tree, then ran back to knock on Beca’s door. “Beca, Beca, wake up. Santa came.” Beca, who had set her alarm early to ensure she was dressed, chuckled to herself.
She opened the door. “Santa, huh? I thought you didn’t believe in Santa.” The boy grinned and ran back downstairs, with Beca following him. “Good morning,” she said to Chloe. “Merry Christmas.”
The innkeeper smiled. “Merry Christmas. Coffee’s ready, but I just put the Christmas casserole in. Sometimes, the little elf gets anxious, so typically, we eat after we open presents.” She motioned into the front room where Owen was peeking at gifts under the tree - not touching - with his hands tucked behind his back.
“Seems like Santa left a lot of presents last night,” Chloe said, eyeing Beca suspiciously.
The music producer grinned. “I may have stopped by Mr. Cunningham’s yesterday to see what Owen told Santa he wanted for Christmas.”
Chloe laughed. “I figured he’d stopped believing in that by now.”
“I think he pretends he does because he feels that’s what you want. I figure keeping him guessing one more year wouldn’t hurt.” Beca winked at Chloe. “Everyone needs a little extra Christmas surprise this year.”
Sure enough, Owen was in awe when he opened his gifts. “Mama, look, a 3D printer! I really, really, really wanted one.” He shoved the box in her face and ran over to Beca to whisper in her ear. “I only told Mr. Cunningham about this.” He looked at her for an answer since she was the only one who knew he didn’t believe in Santa anymore.
Beca whispered back. “I bet Mr. Cunningham called Santa personally since you’ve been such a good boy this year.” She grinned at how happy he was opening the rest of his toys.
Chloe shyly handed Beca a neatly wrapped shoebox-sized gift. “I wasn’t sure what to get you, but everyone needs a gift under the tree on Christmas Day.” Beca was pleased to find a full collection of the peppermint bath amenities that Chloe supplied her guests. “I’d hate for them to go to waste after next week, you know,” referring to the inn closing for good.
After all the presents had been opened, Owen cleaned up, shoving the wrapping paper in a trash bag, making sure no gifts were hiding anywhere. Beca pulled out a large, brightly decorated envelope and handed it to Chloe. “There’s one more. Actually, three more.” Chloe raised her eyebrows and reached for the envelope. Beca held on. “But there are some conditions.” She let go, and Chloe opened the envelope to pull out the first set of papers.
“First, this is an executed contract with your local attorney. Promise me you will sign nothing, not even from me, unless he reviews it.”
“Beca! I can’t afford an attorney.” Chloe dropped her hands in her lap, holding the paper. “Even if I could, I don’t have the money to catch up at the bank.” She was holding back tears because losing the inn was becoming a reality.
“His fees have already been covered.” Beca assured her she didn’t need any money, but she had to promise not to sign anything without his approval.
The redhead furrowed her eyebrows together. Beca motioned for her to remove the second set of papers. As she did, Beca said, “This part is irrevocable regardless of your decision. Consider it a possible advance.”
Confused, Chloe read the paperwork and then reread the paperwork again. She held the second set up in her hand. “I don’t understand. This reads like the bank has stopped foreclosure on Beale Inn because all monies past due have been paid.”
Beca smiled. “Actually, the mortgage you took out on the inn during Covid has been paid in full. You once again own the property, free and clear - well you will when the title company opens up after Christmas. And an additional six months of expenses have been deposited into a trust for the inn to help until you get back on your feet.”
Chloe gasped. “Beca, NO! You can’t do this. This is way too much.” Her hands began to shake, and her earlier tears began to fall. Owen saw that his mother was upset and sat beside her.
“Mama, why are you crying? Did you not get something you asked Santa for?” His concern was genuine as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
“No, baby.” Chloe kissed the top of his head. “Santa was very good to Mama this year. These are happy tears.” Realizing there was one last set of papers in the envelope, Chloe started to pull them out. Beca reminded her that she would not sign anything unless her attorney reviewed it. She read the paper. “Beca? What is this?”
“I told you that your second present was a possible advance, a signing bonus, if you will.” Beca grinned. “That’s a contract. I’d like you to be the next artist signed to Titanium Records.” Chloe was thoroughly confused as Beca’s excitement built. “Chloe, your voice is amazing, and I believe you are the next big thing I’ve been searching for since starting my career.”
Before Beca knew what was happening, Chloe flung her arms around Beca’s neck and squeezed her in a tight hug. Then she pushed back and held Beca’s face with both hands, pressing her lips against Beca’s. Stunned, Beca slowly leaned into the kiss, allowing herself to relax. At some point, two little hands grabbed their arms and pulled them apart. They looked down to see Owen looking up at them, grinning. Beca felt her face flush, and Chloe looked away.
Suddenly, Chloe giggled. “I hope that was okay,” she chirped. Beca’s face burned even hotter. “I have caught you watching my ass, you know.”
Ignoring Chloe’s comment since she didn’t know what to say, Beca said, “Umm, I’d like to contract you for a Christmas album for next year. But before that, I had a few songs I was about to farm out to other studios to see if other singers were interested in picking them up. I think a few of them might be right for your sound. I aim to release a few singles this year while we work on the Christmas album for the next holiday season.”
“I love the inn. But I’ve always wanted to sing. That’s where my heart is.” The innkeeper slipped the papers back into the folder and placed it on her lap. “I don’t have to have an attorney look over anything. I trust you.”
“No!” Beca barked. “No. From here on, that’s standard practice. After the New Year, I’d like to fly you and Owen with me to Los Angeles, where you can find a proper entertainment lawyer. If you can find someone to run the inn for you, that is. I know you’ve been a one-woman show for a while now.”
“Only out of necessity, but I’m sure I can find someone to help. Plus, it sounds like I need to find some permanent help.” Chloe smiled as she pressed another kiss to Beca’s lips. “Why are you doing all this, Beca? I mean, paying my outstanding debt on the inn, Santa for Owen, why?”
“First, if anyone deserves a break, it’s you. Chloe, your voice is amazing and is exactly what I’ve been looking for most of my career. Second, I guess everyone was right about this town. Noel has put me into the Christmas spirit!”
Epilogue - Roughly One Year Later
The past year had been a busy one for Beca and Chloe. True to her word, Beca flew with Chloe and Owen to Los Angeles after the first of the year. Chloe had endlessly teased Beca that she chose to stay another week in Noel rather than get out at her first chance. Chloe said it was Noel’s Christmas spirit, while Beca insisted it was their budding romance - that and so she could help Chloe hire someone to help run the inn for a bit.
Chloe signed with an agent and an entertainment law attorney to become an official Titanium Records artist. Owen visited Beca’s studio, saw the stars on Hollywood Boulevard, and went to Disneyland. Somehow, amid all the madness, Chloe and Beca slipped into a natural and easy relationship. Beca returned to Noel often throughout the year and brought her girlfriend to Los Angeles to record.
While working on a Christmas album, Chloe released two singles that Beca had written and produced. Both had gone over well publicly, so her name was beginning to get out. Titanium Records decided to market the Christmas album a bit differently. The album dropped on Thanksgiving Day. Chloe toured through many small towns throughout the United States known for having strong Christmas themes, like Bethlehem, Pennsylvania; Santa Claus, Indiana; Solvang, California; and Leavenworth, Washington. She would give a small outdoor concert at outdoor holiday festivals and sign CDs afterward.
The marketing ploy was a smashing success, and sales were booming as her music spread throughout mainstream America. Now she was back home in Noel; the next day was the Holiday Bazaar. The town was ecstatic and proud to support the local woman in her singing endeavors.
Snow was lightly falling as Beca pulled her all-wheel drive rental into the driveway of the inn the day before the bazaar. She pulled her jacket on, raced up the steps, and entered the side door of the Beale Inn. She heard the thumps of socked feet coming running down the stairs. “BECA!” A slightly taller, red-headed boy threw himself at her.
“Owen!” she laughed. “You must have grown six inches since I saw you last.”
“I saw you Halloween, Beca,” he reminded her, rolling his eyes. “Mom’s in the big kitchen.” The boy then turned and ran back up the stairs to his room.
Beca grinned and shrugged off her coat before making her way toward the singing voice she heard in the back of the inn. Chloe’s hands were covered in flour as she rolled gingerbread dough into the precise thickness needed for uniform gingerbread man cookies. Beca slipped her arms around Chloe’s waist, buried her head in the woman’s hair, and kissed her neck.
Startled, Chloe jumped and then immediately turned around to find Beca’s mouth with her own. “Welcome back,” she murmured through her kiss. “How was the drive from Sioux Falls?”
“Uneventful. Nothing like last year, that’s for sure. Seems like we are going to have another white Christmas this year.”
“Not as white as last Christmas,” Chloe chuckled.
Beca snagged one of the sugar cookies cooling on the rack and perched on the sink to watch Chloe go back to baking. “Are these for the festival?” The redhead nodded. “I thought you were signing CDs after the concert.”
“I am, and everyone who buys a CD also gets a bag of cookies. It’s not Christmas in Noel without Beale cookies.”
Beca gave her girlfriend a long, soft kiss. “It’s not Christmas in Noel without you.”