Page 11 of A Very Grumpy Thanksgiving

“From who?”

“I don’t know.”

I frown at her, and she smiles sheepishly.

“It’s from a secret admirer,” she admits, and I grin at her.

“What!? Why didn’t you tell me when I first came in? How long has this been going on? Is that the first message? What does it say?” I ask her, and she ducks her head, a pink blush staining her cheeks.

“I’ve gotten a few before, but they’ve been more frequent for the last two months or so.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Honestly, I thought that it was a joke at first, or maybe given to the wrong person.”

She passes me the note and I laugh.

“Ginger, it’s addressed to you. How could it be to the wrong person?”

“I don’t know! I just… didn’t believe that it was for me.”

I don’t ask her why. I have a feeling that if it had been me, I wouldn’t have believed it either. It seems Ginger and I both have some self-esteem issues that we need to work on.

“What are you going to do now that you know it is for you?”

“I don’t know. The letters show up in random places, so I don’t know if I should leave one in return somewhere. There’s no guarantee that the right person would get it, you know?”

“Have you tried to figure out who it is?”

“Of course! But they’re so random. One week I get two or three messages, the next one, then four. And they show up on different days, in different places. There’s no way to spy and try to see who is leaving them.”

“Hmm,” I say as I ponder how to solve this mystery. “I can look out for it too. We should tell Maple and Olive too.”

“Maybe,” she says and I quirk a brow.

“You don’t want to know?” I ask her and she shrugs.

“It’s been nice. What if I hate the person who is leaving the notes? What if he’s terrible and?—”

“And the fantasy is ruined,” I finish for her, and she nods. “I get it. Alright, I’ll let you handle it.”

“Thanks. Now, let’s talk about you and your handyman.”

“There’s not much to say. He’s working on the house, and we have our story figured out for when we see his family. A few more days and the deal is over.”

“And how do you feel about that?” she asks me, and I sigh again.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Scared? My feelings are already out of control for him, and I’m afraid that I’m going to get hurt when this is all over and done with. And then I have to live next door to him!”

“Tell him that it’s not fake for you,” she urges me.

“I’ll look insane. Like a lovesick fool when I just agreed to fake dating him a few days ago.”

“He likes you too.”

“I can’t risk it,” I tell her, and she nods.

The bell over the door dings, and we both look up as a group of four older ladies come in. We both get to work, and I try to forget about Nolan and my growing feelings for him.

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