Page 40 of A Pen Pal for Christmas

My brows shot up. “How could you possibly know that?”

Holly leaned back in her chair, folding her arms smugly. “Because Joan gets chatty when she has a little spiked eggnog. And I’m very persuasive.”

Grace sat up straighter. “What exactly did she say?”

“She admitted—” Holly paused for effect, grinning as we all leaned in. “That she and Ida were actively matchmaking Sofia with her pen pal. It was something we all figured, I know, but she looked so proud of herself as she told me how good of a match they’d set up. She also mentioned that Ida was the one who’d picked the guy.”

The words hit me like a jolt of electricity. My stomach twisted, a mix of excitement and disbelief swirling in my chest. Ida was the one who’d picked the guy? Did that mean?—

No. It couldn’t.

My mind raced as Grace leaned forward. “It has to be Hudson,” she announced.

The room felt too warm, like the heat from the fireplace was pressing in on me. Hudson? My pen pal? It didn’t add up. My pen pal’s letters were light, playful, and hopeful—so different from how Hudson carried so much brooding, protective intensity in every glance and every word. Could he really be both? How was that possible?

I blinked, my heart pounding. “But…”

Grace grabbed my hand. “Think about it. It makes perfect sense.”

“Does it?” I asked, my voice coming out more breathless than I’d intended. “Because I’m not seeing it. They’re very… different.”

“How so?” Robin asked.

I tilted my head from side to side as I thought it over. “My pen pal is… light. Funny. You guys know all about that since apparently I’ve mentioned it before.”

They laughed, and Grace winked. “Sure have.”

“But Hudson is… darker. Not in a bad way… He’s got more of a dark humor, I guess. Every time we’ve interacted, it’s been kind of emotional. On my part, mostly, because he seems to always be there when there’s some Dane drama going on. But even before that, our first real conversation felt deep on both sides, in a way that my pen pal letters never are.”

There was a beat of silence as my friends processed this, but the more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that Hudson couldn’t be my pen pal. There was nothing wrong with his intensity or depth, but it was so different than what I read in the letters that no part of me could meld them into the same person.

Unless, of course, he was completely full of it either in real life or in his letters. And if so, which side of his personality was real? The whole thing made me feel a little sick.

“Maybe you should test it,” Robin suggested. “Say something in your next letter that would make it obvious if it’s Hudson.”

“Like what?” I asked.

Grace tilted her head, thinking. “Mention a story that Ida’s told you and see if he reacts. Really, you could probably just mention Ida in general. Tommy said she raised him, so it’d be weird for him to not respond to something about her, right?”

“Unless he was actively trying not to reveal himself, which I’m pretty sure everyone is doing, right?” Robin countered.

Holly grinned, adjusting the sleeves of her Christmas pajamas. “Or just ask him if he’s Hudson. Easy peasy.”

I rolled my eyes, but my mind was already racing, piecing together how I could phrase a question that wouldn’t seem too obvious—or too desperate.

Before I could say anything, Holly’s phone buzzed on the table, signaling that she had a text. She glanced at the screen and frowned. “Speaking of Joan… she’s got more news about that guy Dane was arguing with the other night.”

“What did she say?” Grace asked, her tone wary.

My whole body had gone stiff at the abrupt change in topic. When I’d first heard about Dane arguing with someone outside the grocery store, I hadn’t known what to think. I wasn’t sure I even wanted more details.

“Apparently, someone overheard the guy telling Dane, ‘there’s nothing you can do about it,’” Holly said, air-quoting the words. “But nobody knows what ‘it’ is.”

A chill ran through me. What could Dane be mixed up in this time? And who was this stranger, coming to Snow Hill to deliver cryptic messages?

The room fell quiet for a moment, the festive atmosphere dimming just slightly. I picked up a gumdrop, rolling it between my fingers as unease settled over me. Dane’s presence in town was bad enough, but the idea that he was dragging someone else into his mess made my stomach turn.

Later that night,the warmth of the girls’ night lingered as I made the short walk back to the inn. I’d wound up having fun after the topic of conversation veered away from Dane. Thank goodness. I would’ve hated it if he’d managed to ruin a good girls’ night.

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