Page 41 of Falling for Santa

Megan took a deep breath. She missed her friend as well. And not just Lauren. A few months ago, she didn’t have a choice. With the new position, moving back was an option.

“Think carefully about what’s best for you and Ruby—not just practically, but emotionally. You’ve built something there, and it’s okay to let that weigh in on your decision too,” Lauren said.

Megan nodded, even though Lauren couldn’t see her. “Thanks, Lauren. I just... I don’t know if I’m strong enough to make the right choice.”

“You are, Megan,” Lauren said firmly. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. Trust yourself, and you’ll figure this out.”

Later that evening, Megan sat at the dining table, her notebook open in front of her, the blank page staring back like a challenge. She tapped the pen against the edge of the table, her thoughts swirling. She needed clarity, a way to untangle the knot of emotions and practicalities that had wound so tightly around her since she’d read that email.

She drew a line down the middle of the page, dividing it into two columns. On the left, she wrote "San Diego," her handwriting steady and precise. On the right, "Palmar Island," the letters slightly more hesitant, as though committing the name to the page carried weight.

Her pen moved instinctively to the San Diego side first. This was the logical choice, the one with concrete reasons she couldarticulate. She began listing them, letting each one settle on the page like a brick in a foundation.

San Diego offered stability—a steady career in a leadership role that came with a salary she could rely on. The financial security it promised could give her and Ruby a comfortable life, free of the penny-pinching she’d become so accustomed to over the past year. And then there was the fresh start it represented, the chance to rebuild her professional life and regain the confidence that had been chipped away by Danny’s sudden death and the upheaval that followed.

She paused, her pen hovering above the page, before moving to the other column. Palmar Island.

This list was harder to articulate, the reasons more personal, less concrete. She began with Ruby. Her daughter’s joy here was undeniable—the giggles as she played with Cupid, the way she lit up every time she ran into Gertrude, and the pure happiness that radiated from her whenever she talked about Santa’s Village. Ruby felt at home here in a way Megan hadn’t expected, and it tugged at her heart to imagine pulling her away from that.

She added another thought, her pen moving slowly. There was the sense of community she was starting to feel. It wasn’t just Ruby who had found a place here. Megan had started to feel the gentle pull of belonging too, in the way Miss Doris looked out for her, in the kindness of strangers who were quickly becoming familiar faces, and in the unexpected joy of Christmas morning with Scott.

And then there was Scott. She hesitated before writing his name, her grip on the pen tightening. It felt too intimate, too final, to see his name there, but she couldn’t deny his impact on her life. Or on Ruby’s. His kindness, his steady presence, and the way he made her feel seen and safe in a way she hadn’t experienced in so long. All of it mattered.

Megan set the pen down and stared at the page. The San Diego column looked neat, organized, and logical, a list of reasons that made perfect sense on paper. But the Palmar Island side—messier, more emotional—held a weight she hadn’t expected.

She leaned back in her chair, her eyes drifting to the photo album Scott had given her. It sat on the coffee table, its engraved cover catching the soft light of the lamp beside it. She reached for it, running her fingers over the smooth wood, her mind flashing to the moments it held.

There was Ruby, beaming at Cupid’s pen, her laughter practically audible through the image. There was Megan herself, crouched by the crafts table, her cheeks dusted with glitter as she helped a child with an ornament. And then there was the three of them, Scott in his Santa suit, Megan in her elf costume, and Ruby perched between them, her smile wide and carefree.

Megan closed the album gently and let out a slow breath. The thought of leaving this behind felt like tearing a page out of a book she’d just begun to write, one that held the promise of something beautiful.

But the other side of the equation was impossible to ignore. San Diego offered certainty, and certainty was hard to argue against when she thought about the future she wanted to build for Ruby. Could she really risk staying on Palmar Island, a place where everything felt so new, so fragile? Where she was once again unemployed and with little to no prospects of finding a job that would support herself and her daughter?

The sound of her phone buzzing pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and saw Scott’s name.

Looking forward to New Year’s Eve.

A small smile played on her lips as she read the message, but it was tinged with guilt. She hadn’t told him about the official offer, about the weight of the decision pressing on her shoulders.How could she? The thought of disappointing him, of letting him down, felt unbearable.

Megan set the phone down and leaned forward, resting her head in her hands. The decision loomed over her like a storm cloud, and while she longed for the clarity to choose, all she felt was the pull of two opposing tides.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to stay. To keep building a life here, to let herself hope for something more with Scott. The thought warmed her, but it was fleeting, replaced by the cold edge of uncertainty.

Chapter Sixteen

Scott turned down the familiar path to Miss Doris’s house, a freshly crafted drying rack balanced in his hands. It was one of his favorite projects. The sturdy but elegant piece was made of polished cedar, its natural grain shining through. Miss Doris had mentioned needing a new one weeks ago, and Scott had carved out the time to finish it.

He hoped the elderly woman would like it. And it would be enough to bargain for her help in adding the finishing touches to the big picnic he had planned. The big night was almost here. The night that he hoped would change his life forever.

As he approached Miss Doris’s beachfront house, Scott slowed his pace. The salty tang of the ocean breeze carried the faintest hint of winter’s chill, cutting through the otherwise mild air. The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore formed a soothing backdrop, but it did little to calm the unease settling in his chest.

Miss Doris’s cottage always exuded warmth, with its cheerful wreath on the door and strings of soft white lights framing the windows. Even now, as the wind tugged at the edges of his jacket, the glow spilling from her windows felt inviting.

Scott stepped carefully onto the wooden path leading to her porch, the damp sand beneath his boots muffling his steps. Just as he neared the railing, a sound drifted through the barely cracked kitchen window. It was a familiar voice. Megan’s.

“It’s everything I’ve been working toward,” Megan was saying. “It’s a chance for me to rebuild my career. To give Ruby the financially secure future she deserves. But…” Her voice faltered.

“But you’ve both began to make a home here, haven’t you?” Miss Doris said.

---