Page 26 of Secret Santas and Holiday Dances

She went to her desk, resting her painting against the wall behind her, and got to work on her schedule for the week. Sometime today, they’d be hearing from Davina about getting new pieces in—they’d made so much money off her paintings the other night, and David had been over the moon. He wasn’t in yet, but she was determined to show him her work as soon as he arrived. She wasn’t going to chicken out this time. No. She’d go against her nature and show him the minute he walked in the door.

The morning hours flew by with no sign of David but a strangely large amount of people window shopping outside the store and waving at her. No one came in, though. Christmas was Saturday, they were probably just excited, and full of Christmas cheer. So, she returned their enthusiasm with waves and smiles of her own. Maybe she’d bring in a bowl of buttermints and set them on a table by the door with a friendly Merry Christmas sign to try to draw them in.

At nine a.m., she called David. She texted him at ten, and again at eleven, with no answer. She hoped he was okay. The roads had been icy that morning. At noon, he finally made it in. He came in the back door, and she spun in her chair and waved.

“There you are,” she said. “I was worried you’d gone off the road or something.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, and lifted a copy of the Harvest Ranch Times, reading an excerpt—no explanation. “For weeks, many of the good people of Harvest Ranch have been visited by a Secret Santa, who always seemed to know just what they needed.”

Grace froze where she sat, trying not to panic. The Harvest Ranch Times had written several articles about the Secret Santa a week, without getting any closer to figuring her out. This could be nothing.

David walked toward her desk as he read, stopping in front of it. “This Saint of the Nicholas variety has worked hard to ease the burdens of those most in need this Christmas season, but turns out the entire thing has doubled as a ploy to shine a light on Life on Canvas. Grace Montgomery, the marketing expert for Life on Canvas, responsible for getting Davina Charles’s work, along with other popular local artists’ work, for the annual Christmas showcase, hasn’t just unleashed her marketing genius on the town, but also her kindness of heart and spirit.”

Grace sucked in a breath.

“Her mother, Charlotte Scott,” David continued, his voice growing surly, “visiting for Christmas, said this, ‘As soon as I heard about the Secret Santa, I knew it was my baby girl. When I confronted her about it, she admitted everything. It was the perfect way to draw attention to Life on Canvas while also helping her get her name out there, being new in town. She’s clever that way. And maybe her boss will finally give her the raise she deserves. How she affords all this on her measly income is a mystery to me.’”

He slammed the paper down, and there on the front was a picture of her delivering a gift.

Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no! “David, that’s not true, I swear.” She’d never talked to Charlotte about it. She’d barely seen her. Even their forced lunches had been all idle conversation. The few times Charlotte had asked Grace something personal, she’d deflected.

“Which part, the part where you were using the Secret Santa to get attention for the store or the part where I’m the cruel master, paying you a pittance for your marketing mastery?” All those people had been waving at her through the window this morning because she was the Secret Santa.

“Davina called me this morning,” he said, his tone bitter. “She’ll be in tomorrow and wanted to double-check you’d be here to help her.” He slammed the paper down and went to his office, calling over his shoulder. “What would we be without our local celebrity?”

David shut his door behind him, and Grace let out the breath she’d been holding. How could Charlotte have done this! How could she out her and lie about why she was doing it too? Grace wanted to be a part of this town on her own terms—and she’d never wanted people to know that she was the Secret Santa. Not ever. It hadn’t been about her or the Life on Canvas, it’d been about being kind to people who needed a little kindness this time of year, it’d been a way for Grace to show her love for Christ during this most sacred holiday. Anger crashed into her like a wave. Charlotte had no right. No right at all! She grabbed her phone and, with shaky fingers, texted Charlotte.

Grace:

What did you do?

Charlotte:

There’s my little celebrity.

Grace:

I don’t want to be a celebrity.

Charlotte:

Don’t be so melodramatic, dear.

Grace:

Where are you?

Charlotte:

Choco-Latte. Liam was right about their peppermint hot chocolate. It’s divine.

Charlotte:

This is my third time coming here since I arrived. I’m going to have to go on a diet after Christmas.

Grace:

Stay there. I’m coming.

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