Page 14 of A Pen Pal for Christmas

I still couldn’t believe I was participating, but over the last week, I’d exchanged letters with my pen pal every single day. They made it so easy with the letters to Santa box at the inn, and I loved that they delivered the letters every night.

That said, I wasthis closeto asking the meddling organizers if we could switch this up and make it an anonymous texting thing. Somehow, daily letters for the past week weren’t enough, and I found myself constantly wanting to trade words with my pen pal.

Somehow, I doubted they’d go along with that considering the ridiculous amount of time they spent running this show.

I grinned at them. "You two did such a good job with it. I love the touch with the pretty envelopes and the different Christmas stamps you use on them. Makes it feel very official, but also really cute.”

"Well, you know us," Joan said with a wink. “We never do anything halfway.”

“We’re very proud of it," Ida added, chuckling as she reached for her phone, tapping away at something.

Ida always seemed to be coordinating some new project or group activity around town. I smiled down at her, wondering what it was this time.

Grace and I made small talk with Joan and Ida for a few more minutes before the call of the coffee was too strong for us to resist. We waved goodbye before making our way to the counter, ordering a peppermint mocha for me and a white chocolate mocha for Grace. Moments later, steaming cups in hand, we found a quiet corner table by the window.

"So," Grace began, settling into her chair, “am I a huge jerk for not signing up for the pen pal thing?”

I frowned at my sister-in-law. “What? Why would that make you a jerk?”

“Um, how about because the woman my husband treats like an honorary grandmother is so proud of it, but I’m blatantly pretending it doesn’t exist?”

“Grace, I say this with love: give yourself a break. Last Christmas, you got anonymous threats via email. No one would want you participating in an anonymous pen pal exchange on the heels of something like that.”

Grace wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want it to bug me after all this time, but it still does.”

“I know,” I said, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “But it hasn’t beenthatlong. It makes sense that it bugs you, but that doesn’t mean you’re not one of the strongest people I know. Shoot, it still bugs me, and I wasn’t even his target.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame you for also being torn up by all of that. I know you were really into him before everything got so horror-movie-like.” Grace squeezed my hand, then released it so she could pick up her mug. “Anyway, how’s your pen pal?”

I beamed automatically. “I think I’m starting to really like him.”

“Like him, like him?”

Chuckling, I shook my head. “No, it’s just that I can tell from his letters he’s really funny and warm. He’s probably some random old guy, but whatever. It’s not like the point of the exchange is matchmaking, right?”

“Um, have you met the organizers?”

Laughing, I stole a glance at Ida and Joan. “I wondered if that was their endgame, but that would bereallyhard to finagle.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” she said, lowering her chin and her voice. “Don’t forget, they chose all of the pairings. I’d be shocked if theydidn’tfactor romance into the equation.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but my gut reaction was to cringe. But then I thought about the last week sending letters back and forth with my pen pal, and maybe it wasn’t all that bad.

Wait, no. Hadn’t we just talked about Grace’s scary experience from last year? This could be a major catfishing moment. Better not get ahead of myself, no matter how many times I’d literally laughed out loud while reading my mystery man’s words.

I cringed again. He wasn’tmymystery man. Just a man, who’s identity happened to be a mystery.

Grace must have been able to see the conflict all over my face, because she waved a hand. “Don’t overthink it. I could be totally off-base about the matchmaking thing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How are you liking The Hearthstone?"

“Nice subject change,” I said wryly, pausing to take a sip of my mocha. “It’s going well, though. It’s different from Philly, but in a good way. Slower pace, fewer… complications."

Grace raised an eyebrow, her expression equal parts curious and skeptical. "Complications, huh? Is it story time?”

Before I could respond, the bell over the door jingled, drawing my eye. At first, I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. But then, almost like a fog clearing, the man before me came into focus.

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