Page 2 of A Pen Pal for Christmas

Joan snorted softly, clearly enjoying our exchange as she shuffled back to the front desk. "Let me get our girl checked in. If you can manage to quit bickering long enough, you can bring her bags upstairs for her, Tommy.”

I stuck my tongue out at my brother as Joan turned her back on us to get the old-fashioned brass key off the hook on the wall. He leveled me with a warning look before we both broke out in quiet giggles. This was just what I needed. Time away from the drama back home and time with my brother.

"So, what's your plan?" Joan asked, handing me my key after the check-in process was complete.

I leaned on the desk, wrapping my cold fingers around the warm coffee cup. "I don't have much of a plan right now. I'm thinking I'll stay for at least a month, but who knows? As long as there are no wild snowstorms or creepy stalkers this year, maybe I'll stay longer.”

“What about work?”

My next sip of peppermint mocha scorched my tongue as I inhaled too much of it. “I quit,” I managed through a cough.

Tommy had been texting, but at those words, he fumbled his phone, catching it before it hit the ground. "You did what?"

"I quit my job."

He blinked at me. "I heard that part. I'm asking for more details."

"Then why didn't you ask me to elaborate instead of just?—"

"Fi, out with it. Why did you quit?”

I wasn’t surprised by my brother’s reaction. I’d worked at the same swanky bar since high school, and everyone in my family knew I planned to take it over one day. But, as it turned out, even the best-laid plans could be ruined if one played their cards right.

"They begged me to stay, but it just got... complicated. So, I quit, and now I'm here."

Tommy opened his mouth to say more, but Joan beat him to it. "You know, the Hearthstone is looking for a part-time bartender for the holiday season. I know it's not nearly as fancy as the place you worked at in Philly, but the people are great, and the holiday spirit will make it fun."

I shrugged. "It would give me something to do while I'm here… other than hole up in my room reading. That's a plus, right, Tom?"

Tommy grunted, then shook his head. He gave me a look that promised this conversation wasn't over, and I sighed dramatically in response.

"Oh, and before I forget..." Joan reached behind the desk and pulled out a small flyer. "The town's doing a secret pen pal exchange this year. You write letters to someone—anonymously, of course—and they write back. Ida and I will be taking care of the deliveries, so you'll just put your letters in this box here."

Tommy and I turned to where Joan had pointed, and I smiled as I took in the red mailbox that was clearly a repurposed decoration for letters to Santa.

"That's adorable," I said, taking the flyer. There was a QR code on it, as well as instructions for how to sign up. I glanced back up at Joan. "Lemme guess, Abby is helping with the QR code stuff?"

Joan grinned. "That girl knows more about technology than I'll ever hope to, and she's only eleven. I can't imagine what your future children will be able to do with computers once they're my age."

I swallowed hard. My future children weren't something I was in a position to think about at the moment. At one point, it'd been a foregone conclusion that Dane and I would have a handful of kids by the time I was in my mid-thirties. Now, hereI was, nearing that age with no kids in sight. No Dane, either. Which was, of course, a good thing. And by choice.

I opened my mouth to decline the offer to participate in the letter exchange, but then Tommy let out a loud snort as he read the paper over my shoulder.

"What?" I asked, glaring up at him.

"You don't need a pen pal. I think you've had enough letter-writing experience to last a lifetime, don't you?"

The air shifted, and I froze. Tommy's tone was teasing, but the sharpness of the words—and their implications, whether intentional or not—cut deep.

"Tommy," I muttered, low in warning.

"What?" he grinned, but then it softened when he studied me more closely. "Okay, I'm sorry. Bad joke."

I inhaled slowly, forcing my voice to sound steadier than I felt. "Maybe writing letters for something fun will erase the memory of all that." I waved the flyer at Joan. "I'll sign up as soon as I get unpacked."

I wasn’t entirely sure why I said yes. Maybe it was because Joan’s excitement was infectious, or maybe it was because the idea of anonymous letters felt safe. No expectations, no history. Just words on a page. And after everything that had happened, I could use a fresh start—even if it was just with a stranger on the other end of a pen.

Joan beamed at me, and Tommy grabbed my suitcases, hefting them easily up the wide staircase. “Is one of these suitcases just books?” he asked over his shoulder, feigning strain.

---