Page 2 of Secret Santas and Holiday Dances

Grace leaned against the roof of her car and joined in the laughter.

“Did you hear her when she saw it?” Jessie asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Grace nodded. That was always her favorite part. Witnessing the joy.

“Totally worth the fear of almost getting caught.” Jessie stood. “How many times have you almost been caught?”

“Never,” Grace said.

Jessie shoved her shoulder. “Liar.”

“Okay, maybe once,” she pointed over her shoulder with her thumb, “but I didn’t freeze in a spotlight and wait to be caught.” She opened her car door and got in, then reached across to the passenger door and unlocked it for Jessie.

“I was trying to blend in.” Jessie buckled her seatbelt.

“With what? The night?” Grace pulled away from the curb and headed home.

Jessie giggled. “Exactly.” She pulled her beanie off her shoulder-length chestnut locks and ran her fingers through her hair. Grace didn’t look like any of her cousins. The twins, Allie and Jo, were both redheads like Grace’s mom and both her aunts. Jessie had dark brown hair, her younger sisters had beautiful light brown hair, and Jessie’s older sister, Caroline, was blond like Grace, but she had a much prettier blond than Grace’s dull dishwater. Sometimes Grace even thought it looked gray. Not gray as in going gray, but like a natural grayish blond. She hated it. And her cousins were all much taller than her five-foot four-inch frame. They were stately. Grace was tiny.

“One of these days, Grace,” Jessie said, “you’re going to have to tell me what motivated you to do this.”

Grace shot a side glance at her cousin as a memory from the distant past ran through her mind of the first time she’d ever done a Secret Santa. She’d been five. A wave of nostalgia hit her right in the feels. “I just thought it’d be nice,” she said, trying not to sound choked up.

Jessie smirked at her and shook her head. “Right. There’s clearly not more to that story.” She didn’t push though, and Grace was glad.

How did you explain to a cousin that you’d only known in person for eight months, five of late, and three from when you were a child, that you loved Secret Santa because your first step dad had done it with you? How could you explain that your best Christmas memories happened with a stepdad you hadn’t seen since you were eight? That every Christmas after he’d left had been emotionally or literally alone?

Her cousins knew about Grace’s mother, Charlotte—the self-made pariah of the Hale family—the same family her Aunt Clara and Aunt Sophie came from, and her closest cousins. Charlotte had gotten pregnant at seventeen, had married at eighteen, divorced three years later after running away to New York with her husband and three-year-old daughter, only to have had her husband abandon her there. They knew about her mother’s three other marriages. They also knew Charlotte hated Harvest Ranch and everything it stood for. She’d barely spoken to her family in over twenty years, though they’d reached out to her on multiple occasions, which Grace had only found out about on her first of two summers to Harvest Ranch as a kid. They knew all that, but they knew little about what Grace’s life had been.

Grace was at home in Harvest Ranch. She had family, friends, and was happy. And that was all they ever need know.

Chapter 2

Liam Nichols pulled up in front of the old rambler with the red front door at ten-thirty on the dot. His business partner, friend, and brother-in-law, Ryan Brown, was already there. He sat in his beat-up old Ford pickup truck, staring at a copy of today’s Harvest Ranch Times, and taking it very seriously if the furrow in his dark brow was any indication.

Liam chuckled and hopped out of his truck, a black 2017 Toyota Tacoma he’d purchased his second year in Philadelphia where he’d worked as a corporate attorney. He almost felt weird driving it now, his current position in Collins and Brown Law Firm paying a fraction of what he’d made then. Especially since half their work was pro bono.

If it weren’t for the festivals the town held every year, they’d be reaching to make ends meet. The festivals were when they made the big bucks and half of their annual income—or at least that had been the case this year. The city hired them to take care of them legally before the influx of tourists—especially for the fall festival.

The rest of the year, they covered cases dealing with housing, family, consumer, and disability, and a good chunk of those were pro bono. He’d taken a major cut in pay when he’d come home, and he hadn’t regretted it for a moment.

He meandered up to Ryan’s truck and waited by his icy window, staring at him. Ryan didn’t budge and kept reading the paper. Must be something good going on. Liam rapped his knuckles against the glass and Ryan lurched forward, crumbling the paper in his hands where he grasped it.

“Don’t do that,” Ryan glared.

Liam held up his hands, palms up. “What? I’ve been standing her for a couple of minutes.”

Ryan smoothed out the edges of the paper, folded it, and set it aside. He grabbed his cowboy hat and hopped out of the cab.

“Anything good in the paper today?” Liam asked as they made their way up to the door.

“They Gregsons got a Secret Santa gift yesterday,” Ryan said. “They left their house yesterday at seven am and found three winter coats—all the right sizes, just sitting out their door.”

Ah. The Secret Santa. The paper had reported on him every day this week. So far, six recipients had come forward. Liam shook his head. “The charm of small-town news.” They stopped on the creaky front porch.

“Hey, it’s not every day this kind of thing happens,” Ryan said. “Better than hearing about all the robberies and murderings going on in Philly.” He rang the doorbell.

Liam chuckled. “Can’t argue with that.”

---