Page 40 of The Merry Matchmaker

He looked at her in surprise. “Just sayin’.”

“You sure have a lot to say lately,” she said. She stuffed the popcorn in her mouth and ground her teeth on it. Maybe Brock would like to try the peppermint martinis at Carol’s Place.

7

In addition to polishing up her interview with a local writer who hadher first book coming out that week, Stef had more letters for Santa waiting to be sifted through when she went in to work Monday morning. She smiled as she looked at the ones already up on the paper’s website. She was happy to see that the page was getting plenty of positive comments from readers. Good for the paper. And for her.

Thanks for the heads-up, Santa...

I hope Jordy gets his drums...

Maybe Santa will bring earplugs for Jordy’s parents...

Tell Corcoran I could fit in Santa’s sleigh.

Stef read the last comment and frowned. Some women were such predators. The comment was horribly inappropriate and was going to get deleted that very minute. Whatever was happening with the boy’s family was serious. Hopefully, both Corcoran and his father would find better things waiting for them in the new year.

She sighed. Life could be so hard when things didn’t work out for people. She’d sure found that out. Everyone needed love, and it sucked when those who should have loved you the most treated you the worst.

Griffin Marks had just finished putting in an order for twenty-five more shares of stock that one of his Edward Jones clients wanted to buy when his phone dinged with a text.You are gonna be busy now.

What the heck?

He called his pal Joel, who’d sent the text. “What’s this about?”

“You haven’t seen the Letters to Santa page on theCarol Clarionwebsite?”

“I haven’t had a chance to see if yours got printed yet,” Griff said.

“Funny. You probably won’t be laughing when you read one of them. Mandy just called me and wondered if you’d helped Corky write a letter to Santa.”

Corky. Letter to Santa. A premonition that he was about to hear something he didn’t want to hear settled in Griff’s gut like a giant lump of coal.

“You’d better read it,” suggested Joel.

Griff left business behind and went to the paper’s website. He pulled up the Letters to Santa page and scanned them, skimming down the page until he saw his son’s name. The words jumped out at him.

Can you bring me a mommy for Christmas?

Shit. How had this happened?

He didn’t have to read far to figure it out. “Jenn,” he muttered in disgust. His meddling, misguided sister was at it again.

“Every single woman within a twenty-five-mile radius of Carol is going to be contacting the paper, wanting to apply for the job of mommy,” Joel predicted.

“Don’t be a turkey,” snapped Griff.

“You think I’m kidding? Do you know how many generations of women have watchedSleepless in Seattle?You’ve just become the new Tom Hanks.”

Griff scrubbed his face. The last thing he needed was word of this getting out and women showing up on his doorstep with plates of Christmas cookies. That had happened the first Christmas after Kaitlyn died, and he’d felt like a hunted animal. He had no desire to start that circus again.

And he couldn’t have Corky see the page. If his son saw his request there on the paper’s website followed by Santa’s reply, his hopes would rise quicker than a helium balloon.

“Nobody’s gonna replace Kaitlyn, dude. I get that. But maybe Jenn’s right.”

Griff cut him off. “Don’t even say it.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

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