Page 74 of A Newport Christmess

“Ghosts?”

She giggled. “Weren’t you listening? The guide said the place is haunted.”

Apparently, I’d missed more than I thought. “That sounds like a story for a Halloween tour, not a Christmas one. I guess unless the ghost is a jolly, giant man in a green robe that shows you where you’re failing in life.”

Quinn laughed. “Are you a Dickens fan?”

“If by Dickens you mean the musical adaptation Scrooge, then yes. Watching it is a long-standing yearly tradition at the Aker house.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen that version.”

I feigned offense. “Unpardonable. We are going to right that wrong immediately. Well, maybe not immediately since you need to finish your gingerbread houses, but soon.”

“Deal.”

The woman guiding the tour stopped our group in the corridor and began sharing something about the furnishings.

“As scary as it would be,” Quinn whispered, “I wouldn’t mind if the three ghosts of Christmas visited me. Not if I could get some clarification on my life like Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“What sort of clarification are you looking for?”

A man standing next to us sent a look in our direction that said he didn’t appreciate our chatting.

Quinn mouthed a quick, “Sorry,” and his scowl turned to a polite smile and a wave of acceptance. I was pretty sure Quinn could back over a stranger’s foot with a car, and the minute she sent her dazzling, contrite smile at them, they’d apologize for having stood too near the tire.

When the group continued forward again, she leaned in close. “All of it. Whether I should take a real job and give up my social media account—”

“Why would you quit? I thought you said it was the one thing you loved doing.”

“It doesn’t currently provide enough for me to live on. I know it’s possible to do it—before my divorce, I was earning a decent amount—but since my engagement fell at the beginning of the year, my affiliate links aren’t performing like they once did, and it’s been a lot harder to get sponsorships. Even when I do get one, because of my lower engagement rates, I only get a portion of what I used to, hence the living off my best friend’s kindness. But I can’t do that much longer.”

“Maybe I could help you grow your account. My undergrad was in marketing. And before I boycotted social media, I’d spent years helping Nikki.” I hesitated. “I also helped Eliza start a successful account.” Which she then used against me. “I’m sure I could come up with a few things for you to implement or different income streams to consider.”

Quinn glanced over at me. “You don’t need to do that. You obviously have a good reason for swearing off social media.”

“I want to help—if you want it, that is.”

Her lips pursed in thought. “Considering your advice about putting myself in the posts again seems to already have worked wonders, I certainly won’t refuse to hear any ideas you have. Though the uptick in interest could be because your video was amazing, and your attractive face was in my second post.” Her teasing grin landed on me, then her gaze moved to my beard. “My followers apparently love a man with a well-groomed beard.”

I chuckled. “So I read.”

Quinn’s focus remained on me as we followed the group several yards behind. Her gaze darted to my mouth before she looked away again. “Maybe that’s the rule we should instigate—having you shave your face instead of your head. It feels like a happy medium.”

“Aww. So you also love a man with a beard?”

“I do now.” Her eyes widened. “That’s not how that was supposed to come out. I only meant I didn’t realize how much I liked beards until you. Not that I love ...”

I chuckled. “I know what you meant.”

She shook her head, and I was certain, in the low light, I glimpsed a tint of red in her cheeks. “I didn’t realize you helped Nikki with her account.”

“I did a lot of filming and photographing for her in the beginning, but I was probably more useful to her as a sounding board for her ideas, helping her see different angles or ways to do things.”

Quinn’s lovely features were illuminated as we passed another lit candelabra. “I love that you helped your sister. And Eliza.”

“It gave me an appreciation for how much work it takes.” And with Eliza, what someone was willing to do to get ahead. “People think these successful influencers just fall into it—and maybe some do—but Nikki worked incredibly hard to get where she is. She still does. Just like you do. And like you’re going to continue doing because you love it.” After two years of hating on social media, it felt strange being the one to convince someone to keep at it. But here I was, certain that a small corner of the world would be darker without her influence. “What you share is important. It brings joy into people’s lives.”

Quinn sucked in a quick breath, and her gaze dropped to the wooden floor. I worried I’d said something wrong, but then her arm laced through mine, and she leaned her head against my arm.