Page 106 of Merry Mended Hearts

I’d believed because I’d been a child. But the truth was, Grandpa could have made that story up. He’d always been a good storyteller.

My heart reprimanded me for that thought. Nah. Nothing else could explain why the radio had played for Grace and me that night. I clenched her note in my fist again. I was tempted to chuck it into the fire.

For all I knew, the note had just appeared to Junie like the notebook did to me. Appeared, like magic. Which meant that I’d been right. Whatever the note contained didn’t mean anything. Grace would never have written any of it if the radio hadn’t interfered.

No matter what either of us thought, this wasn’t real.

I stuffed the note into my pocket, determined to forget it was there.

Once the holiday passed, I’d prove it. I would stop thinking about Grace every second. I’d stop reliving the feel of her lips on mine or the sound of her honeyed voice, or the way she made me want conversation and company again.

I’d forget the way she’d tried to help me heal.

GRACE

I presseda finger against my headset as though I needed help keeping it in place. The numbers on my computer screen began to blur. Soon, my mind drifted. I was back in Montana, daydreaming of a cowboy recluse and a snowy mountainside.

“Excuse me? Are you still there?” The other woman on the line sounded more concerned than anything else.

I clicked the top of the pen in my hand. Seconds at a time, my cubicle came back into view as did the words, the list of products, and the online order form on my screen.

This wasn’t my novel. Sad.

Which meant I was at work.

“Hello?”

I jerked to attention.

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry, I’m here. What did you say?”

The woman on the line repeated her complaint, mentioning how the company’s newest line of skin care made her eyes itch. She wanted a refund.

Of course. They all did.

“I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am,” I said, kicking my brain into gear and initiating the refund process.

I talked the woman through returning the product and emailed the print-read, prepaid shipping label.

Ordinary life was so dull without Christmas carols and the lights I’d strung around my cubicle. I wished every day could be like Christmas.

Wasn’t it ironic that the man I’d fallen for happened to hate the holiday I loved?

“Forget him,” I told myself as I hung up with the customer and filled out the necessary notes from each and every single call I received. “Focus on your book.”

That had been hard enough to do since I’d come home. I’d spent every second I could with Stephanie and her squishy, giggly baby. We’d talked long into the night on Christmas Day.

Stephanie’s husband had stopped asking when she was coming to bed. I’d even gotten up to help with the baby because we were still up talking. And though I’d confessed my short-lived romance with Boone to my sister, I’d omitted anything about hearing the radio play. Stephanie’s reactions were enough without adding that part to it.

Every time I opened my laptop to clack in a few more words, the email icon screamed at me to contact him. Even if I had the guts to reach out, Boone hadn’t given me any contact info. Emailing the inn felt too silly. Junie would be the one to receive it—not him.

I’d already left a note for him with Junie anyway. No need to make myself appear more desperate than I already did.

We were nearing the end of January. If Junie had given the note to him, he would have tried contacting me by now, wouldn’t he?

Maybe Junie decided not to give Boone my note, though why she wouldn’t was beyond me. I supposed I’d never know.

Boone hadn’t contacted me. He probably never would.

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