Page 4 of A Very Grumpy Christmas

“Maybe it’s the new guy in town,” Cora says, leaning across my little kitchen table, her eyes twinkling with amusement as I tell her about the latest letter. “You know, Huxley? He’s always looking at you.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Huxley isn’t looking at me, Cora. He’s looking at you.”

She laughs, the sound bright and full of mischief. “No, he’s not.”

I don’t bother to correct her. Cora is sure that no one wants her, and I know that if I point out that he can’t take his eyes off her, she’ll just argue with me. Huxley is for sure in love with her, but he’ll have to be the one to convince her of that.

Cora and I have been friends ever since she moved to Wolf Valley a few months after my sisters and I did. We became fastfriends and hang out at least once a week. She’s one of the only people here, besides my sisters, who know about the letters.

“I just wish I knew who he was,” I admit, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “It’s been months, Cora. Months of these letters and still no clue.”

“Well,” Cora says thoughtfully, tapping her chin, “there’s got to be some kind of pattern, right? Have you noticed anything? Does he say anything that might give him away?”

I shake my head, pulling the most recent letter from my pocket and handing it to her. She unfolds it carefully, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting as I watch her face for any sign of recognition.

“‘Your smile is like sunshine on a rainy day,’” she reads aloud, her voice softening as she reaches the end. “‘I hope one day I’ll be brave enough to tell you this in person, but until then, I’ll keep admiring you from afar.’”

Cora looks up at me, her eyes wide with excitement. “Ginger, this is so romantic! It’s like you’re living in a freaking romance novel!”

I chuckle, but my heart clenches in my chest. “Yeah, except in romance novels, the guy usually reveals himself by now.”

“Well, maybe he’s shy,” Cora suggests, folding the letter and handing it back to me. “Or maybe he’s waiting for the perfect moment.”

I tuck the letter back into my pocket, biting my lip. “I don’t know, Cora. You don’t think that if he wanted to, he would have said something by now? What if he never reveals himself? What if I’m just stuck here, reading these letters and wondering who he is for the rest of my life?”

Cora taps her fingers against the counter, her expression thoughtful. “Well, who do you think it could be? I mean, someone’s got to be writing these letters. Let’s make a list.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “A list?”

“Yeah! A list of possible suspects,” she says, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

I groan, but I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “Fine, but you’re not going to find anything. I don’t have a clue who it could be.”

Cora pulls out a notepad from her purse and grabs a pen, poised to start writing. “Okay, first up: Huxley.”

I roll my eyes again. “We already covered this. He’s not interested in me.”

“Okay, fine. What about his friend? Kip?”

My heart skips a beat at the mention of his name, and I quickly look away, pretending to rearrange the books on the counter.

Kip. The one person I’d been trying not to think about in connection to these letters.

“Why would you say Kip?” I ask, keeping my voice as casual as possible.

Cora gives me a knowing look. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you blush every time you hear his name?”

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks, and I curse my fair complexion. “I do not.”

“Sure, you don’t,” she says, smirking. “But come on, Ginger. He’s quiet, he keeps to himself, and he’s always hanging around, but never too close. Sounds like secret admirer material to me.”

I bite my lip, trying to ignore the way my heart flutters at the thought of Kip being the one behind the letters. The truth is, I’ve had a crush on Kip for as long as I can remember. Ever since I first saw him, there’s been something about him that’s drawn me in—something quiet, almost mysterious. But I never thought he’d be interested in me. Not really.

“Even if it is Kip,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, “why would he write me letters instead of just talking to me? He knows where I work. He could come in anytime.”

“Shy, remember?” Cora asks and I sigh. “Or maybe he’s scared. Or… I don’t know. I mean, I barely know the guy. He keeps to himself.”

I nod, my heart aching a little at the thought. I don’t know much about Kip’s past, but I’ve heard enough to know that he’s been hurt. The scar on his face is a constant reminder of whatever happened to him, and I can only imagine the toll it’s taken.

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