Page 36 of Secret Santas and Holiday Dances

“No surprise there,” Charlotte said.

Grace gritted her teeth. She could do this. She could stand up for herself. “If you didn’t want people to think you were a liar, you shouldn’t have lied.”

Davina popped out of her chair. “I’m going to go grab a hot chocolate.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at Grace and folded her arms over her chest as Davina scurried out of the gallery. Once Davina was gone, she made a sweeping gesture toward the door. “Was that necessary?”

She heard Walt’s voice in her head. Step out of the shadows, Grace. You don’t belong there. She stood tall. “You told people I was the Secret Santa.”

“You are,” Charlotte said.

“You sold them a photo of me.”

“It was a good photo.”

Grace put her hands on her hips. “You turned my Christmas holiday gesture into a dirty marketing scheme, and implied that I complained to you about my wages here.”

Charlotte lifted her chin. “So, I exaggerated a little. You, being the Secret Santa, is a brilliant marketing strategy. And anyone can tell by looking at you, your clothes, and general state of I-shop-at-thrift-stores appearance that you’re not being paid enough. I was just trying to help.”

“You almost got me fired and now half the town thinks I was just trying to get attention.” She pointed out the windows behind Charlotte.

“Oh, please.” Charlotte brushed her hair back. “David would never fire you. He’s not an idiot. And who cares what these small-town country bumpkins think, anyway? Now, can we please move on from this, or do you have more things you want to whine about?”

Grace lowered her voice and spoke clearly, emphasizing each word. “You kissed Liam.”

Charlotte clenched her teeth. “I did. And I don’t feel bad about it. He’s an amazing man.” She let that settle, and Grace considered walking out and getting a hot chocolate herself. “But you should know, he didn’t kiss me back. And when he saw you, all he could think about was getting to you. I’m loathed to admit it, but I believe he’s in love with you.”

“What?” Grace barely choked the word out. Charlotte couldn’t mean that. Liam didn’t . . . he couldn’t . . . He could have Charlotte, for crying out loud. He’d never pick her over her mother. Would he? Then she thought of the buttermints on her doorstep yesterday morning, of the basket of art supplies. She thought of how he’d chased her down and demanded to speak to her. She thought of the last week of him keeping Charlotte entertained so she could deliver her Secret Santa gifts, of all the lunches they’d had together since she’d moved here at the beginning of August, of the way he’d held her while they danced at Emma’s party, and how excited he was to go deliver gifts with her, and she thought of last Saturday and that moment when he’d almost kissed her. Because he had. Now she knew it was true. He had almost kissed her. “He loves me.”

Warmth rushed through her, from the top of her head down to her toes and back again. He loved her.

Charlotte turned her nose up. “No accounting for taste, I suppose. Not that it would’ve worked out between me and him, anyway. I think he loves this town and a simple life. He has no ambition at all, and I can’t live here. Not again.”

“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” Grace said. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Carter called me yesterday,” Charlotte said, fiddling with her gloves. “He wants to give our marriage another try. I’m leaving almost immediately. He bought me tickets to Rome for Christmas. I’ve always wanted to go to Rome for Christmas.”

For the first time in her life, Grace felt pity for Charlotte. “Mom—”

Charlotte glanced up, her gaze hardening. “Now, let’s not get all mushy. I’m not mother material. You’re glad I’m leaving, and we both know it. So don’t go and start calling me mom.” She shuddered. “Besides, despite my best efforts to make you worldly, this is the life you chose. Harvest Ranch. Where did I go wrong?” She looked heavenward.

“You don’t have to go back to Frank,” Grace said.

Charlotte grinned. “I never do anything I don’t want to do, Grace. If you learn anything from me, let that be it.” With that, she turned and headed to the door, glancing over her shoulder one last time. “Did I ever tell you why I named you Grace?”

Grace shook her head.

“You were such a calm baby. Serene, happy, easy to please. To my mind, you were grace personified. You still are.” Charlotte pushed out the door, leaving Grace stunned.

Grace went to her desk chair and sat. Had that just happened?

She stared at Liam’s basket for who knew how long, stared until her eyes almost blurred, then she noticed the edge of what looked like an envelope sticking out from the side. She hadn’t seen it earlier. She gripped the paper and pulled it out. On the front of the heavy card stock envelope, her name had been written in fancy scroll. She opened it, pulling out an invitation, and another piece of paper fluttered to the ground.

She read the invitation as she picked up the fly-away paper. It was to Liam’s family’s Christmas party on Friday. He’d already invited her. Ten times. But never with an actual invite. She moved the stray paper forward and saw Liam’s clean script and stopped breathing.

Dearest Grace,

I’ve taken you for granted. I see that now, and I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention. After leaving Philadelphia, I was too scared to move on, too worried I’d be hurt again, and because of that, I put you at arm’s length, when what I should’ve done is pulled you into my arms and never let go. Maybe it’s too late, I don’t know. I hope not. Either way, I hope you’ll accept this invitation to the Nichols’ Family Christmas Party because, to me, you are family.

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