Page 10 of A Pen Pal for Christmas

Still, my aunt's meddling had landed me here with a letter in hand and no one around to judge me for reading it. I might as well dive in.

Settling into one of the overstuffed armchairs in the front room as the inn's fire crackled, I stared at the envelope for a beat longer, willing myself to chill out. What would be the harm in opening the letter just to skim it? I could get a feel for my mystery pen pal and decide from there if I’d continue to exchange letters.

I’d sent one to my pen pal just to get Ida off my back that first day—as she’d hovered over me with a duster under the guise of “just cleaning.” So, was this a reply to my letter, or was it the sender's first, and our letters had crossed paths?

Only one way to find out.

I took a sip of the coffee I’d snagged from the always-stocked coffee bar in the dining room, savoring the rich, bitter flavor. With a deep breath, I slid my finger under the flap of the envelope, breaking the seal.

The paper within was crisp and smooth, and the ink was a deep blue that popped on the page, somehow making my pen pal's handwriting even prettier. Just the thought of finding it “pretty” had me narrowing my eyes. Had Ida and Joan intentionally chosen the pairings for potential matchmaking reasons? It seemed like a safe bet, knowing them. It wasn’t like they’d opt to leave things to chance when they could meddle instead.

Dear Stranger,

Real talk—I feel ridiculous writing this letter.

I do think the concept is cute, I’m just not sure what we’re supposed to talk about, ya know? I Googled, “what to write in a secret pen pal letter,” and was advised that I would be safe to talk about things I wouldn’t normally want to share since it’s anonymous.

What kind of things, you ask? Well, in case you haven’t Googled this for yourself, things like hopes, dreams, and fears.

So… here goes.

In the “hopes” category, I hope this letter finds you well. (See how good I’m gonna be at this?)

For dreams, I’m currently at a loss. I used to have a few dreams that I would’ve shared with total confidence—anonymous or not. First, I wanted to own my own business. Second, I had someone in my life that I thought had the same dreams I did as far as our future. But since neither of those things is going to happen now… I guess you could say I’m on the hunt for a new dream.

Lastly, fears. Man, why is this so deep? Let’s keep it light and say my biggest fear right now is that I’ve already poured so much awkward sauce all over this letter that you won’t even be able to read it. Or even if you can read it, you won’t want to reply.

Okay, that’s enough for now. I’ve shared my hopes, dreams, and fears, leaving myself totally open to being made fun of by a perfect stranger.

Your turn? No pressure.

Sincerely,

Your secret pen pal

I exhaled slowly. I’d planned to skim it and then blow it off, but the writer's words were sincere, with a touch of dry humor that caught me off guard. I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I reread the letter for no particular reason.

But then, the creak of the old wooden stairs drew my attention, and I glanced up, eyes widening slightly as I recognized the woman descending the steps. It was the bartender from The Hearthstone—the one whose quick, alluring smile had captivated me so completely when I’d wandered in there on Friday night.

Was she a guest here, too?

She paused at the bottom of the stairs, her dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders. The dim light cast soft shadows across her face, and when her eyes met mine, there was an unmistakable flicker of recognition there. She must recognize me, too, and my chest tightened as a hesitant smile curved her lips.

She wrapped her arms around her middle as she stepped into the room. "Mind if I join you?"

I gestured to the empty armchair across from me. "Please do."

She nodded her thanks, that faint smile still in place as she lowered herself into the chair.

"I'm Hudson, by the way.” I extended my hand across the gap between our chairs.

She shook it, and I fought not to react to the simple handshake. It was just a handshake for crying out loud. And yet, it lit me up in a way that made it hard to focus on the next words out of her mouth.

"Ah, you’re Ida's Hudson, then? That makes sense."

I narrowed my eyes. "What makes sense?"

"She loves to brag about you. She did it a lot last year when I was in town, and I haven't seen her yet this year, but Tommy mentioned her Marine nephew was back. And you look like a Marine."

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