Chapter 2

TWO

Ginger

I wasn’t supposed to be the one getting the letter. That’s what I told myself when I found the first one.

It was a cold, rainy day in early September and I’d had one of those mornings where everything seemed to go wrong, the kind of day that makes you question why you even bothered getting out of bed that morning.

I was late opening the bookstore, spilled coffee on my favorite sweater, and locked my keys inside the car. I had to walk back to my apartment to grab the spare and when I got back, that was when I found it.

I almost didn’t see the letter tucked under my windshield wiper at first. I was rushing, trying to get back inside before the rain drenched me any more than it already had, but there it was—a folded piece of paper neatly placed under the wiper, its edges curling slightly from the damp air and drizzle.

I remember frowning, wondering if I had gotten a ticket or something, but then I opened it and saw that it was on stationery. Stark white with a heart with an arrow on it in the bottom left corner.

My first thought when I realized that it was a love note, was that it had been meant for someone else. Wolf Valley was small, but we weren’t immune to mistakes, and I figured someone had left it for the wrong person, that my car was common, and they had put it on the wrong windshield.

The words in the note were simple and kind. There was no name, no signature, just an anonymous message that made my heart race and my palms sweat for reasons I couldn’t quite explain.

But instead of feeling flattered, I felt confused. I almost left a note of my own, telling whoever it was that they had the wrong person. I didn’t get anonymous love letters. That sort of thing happened in romance novels, not real life. And certainly not to me.

Yet, for reasons I still don’t fully understand, I didn’t leave a note. I tucked the letter into my bag, and that was that. A fluke, I told myself. Just some strange, one-off occurrence.

Then came the second letter.

I decided to leave that letter on my car and write my own note, explaining that it was my car and they must have the wrong person.

Then I got the third note, that one addressed to me, and I realized that it wasn’t a mistake. The letters were meant for me. There was no denying it anymore—I had a secret admirer.

It showed up a week later, tucked into the door of the bookstore this time. The stationery and handwriting were the same—careful, deliberate—but the words were different. This one was more personal, like whoever was writing to me knew me a little better now. They complimented me and told me that they used to love the color blue, but after seeing my eyes, it had changed to green.

By the time I read the fourth letter, I was hooked and starting to fall for him. Hard.

It’s funny how quickly your perspective can shift. One moment, I was convinced the letters weren’t meant for me, and the next, I was eagerly waiting for the next one, wondering what my mystery man would say. Every time I got a new one, it felt like a piece of a puzzle falling into place. I was dying to solve it and figure out who my secret admirer was. To tell him that I was obsessed with him too.

But there was a problem.

There was no pattern to the letters. Sometimes they’d show up at the bookstore or the bakery, whichever one of my sister’s businesses I was working at that day. Other times they were slipped under my welcome mat at home, or on my car, and once, even slipped into my mailbox. They came at different times, on different days, with no rhyme or reason. I never knew when the next one would appear, and it was driving me crazy.

I needed to know who he was. I needed to figure out who the man that I was in love with was.

“Maybe it’s the new guy in town,” Cora says, leaning across my little kitchen table, her eyes twinkling with amusement as I tell her about the latest letter. “You know, Huxley? He’s always looking at you.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Huxley isn’t looking at me, Cora. He’s looking at you.”

She laughs, the sound bright and full of mischief. “No, he’s not.”

I don’t bother to correct her. Cora is sure that no one wants her, and I know that if I point out that he can’t take his eyes off her, she’ll just argue with me. Huxley is for sure in love with her, but he’ll have to be the one to convince her of that.

Cora and I have been friends ever since she moved to Wolf Valley a few months after my sisters and I did. We became fast friends and hang out at least once a week. She’s one of the only people here, besides my sisters, who know about the letters.

“I just wish I knew who he was,” I admit, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “It’s been months, Cora. Months of these letters and still no clue.”

“Well,” Cora says thoughtfully, tapping her chin, “there’s got to be some kind of pattern, right? Have you noticed anything? Does he say anything that might give him away?”

I shake my head, pulling the most recent letter from my pocket and handing it to her. She unfolds it carefully, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting as I watch her face for any sign of recognition.

“‘Your smile is like sunshine on a rainy day,’” she reads aloud, her voice softening as she reaches the end. “‘I hope one day I’ll be brave enough to tell you this in person, but until then, I’ll keep admiring you from afar.’”

Cora looks up at me, her eyes wide with excitement. “Ginger, this is so romantic! It’s like you’re living in a freaking romance novel!”

I chuckle, but my heart clenches in my chest. “Yeah, except in romance novels, the guy usually reveals himself by now.”

“Well, maybe he’s shy,” Cora suggests, folding the letter and handing it back to me. “Or maybe he’s waiting for the perfect moment.”

I tuck the letter back into my pocket, biting my lip. “I don’t know, Cora. You don’t think that if he wanted to, he would have said something by now? What if he never reveals himself? What if I’m just stuck here, reading these letters and wondering who he is for the rest of my life?”

Cora taps her fingers against the counter, her expression thoughtful. “Well, who do you think it could be? I mean, someone’s got to be writing these letters. Let’s make a list.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “A list?”

“Yeah! A list of possible suspects,” she says, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

I groan, but I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “Fine, but you’re not going to find anything. I don’t have a clue who it could be.”

Cora pulls out a notepad from her purse and grabs a pen, poised to start writing. “Okay, first up: Huxley.”

I roll my eyes again. “We already covered this. He’s not interested in me.”

“Okay, fine. What about his friend? Kip?”

My heart skips a beat at the mention of his name, and I quickly look away, pretending to rearrange the books on the counter.

Kip. The one person I’d been trying not to think about in connection to these letters.

“Why would you say Kip?” I ask, keeping my voice as casual as possible.

Cora gives me a knowing look. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you blush every time you hear his name?”

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks, and I curse my fair complexion. “I do not.”

“Sure, you don’t,” she says, smirking. “But come on, Ginger. He’s quiet, he keeps to himself, and he’s always hanging around, but never too close. Sounds like secret admirer material to me.”

I bite my lip, trying to ignore the way my heart flutters at the thought of Kip being the one behind the letters. The truth is, I’ve had a crush on Kip for as long as I can remember. Ever since I first saw him, there’s been something about him that’s drawn me in—something quiet, almost mysterious. But I never thought he’d be interested in me. Not really.

“Even if it is Kip,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, “why would he write me letters instead of just talking to me? He knows where I work. He could come in anytime.”

“Shy, remember?” Cora asks and I sigh. “Or maybe he’s scared. Or… I don’t know. I mean, I barely know the guy. He keeps to himself.”

I nod, my heart aching a little at the thought. I don’t know much about Kip’s past, but I’ve heard enough to know that he’s been hurt. The scar on his face is a constant reminder of whatever happened to him, and I can only imagine the toll it’s taken.

But could he really be the one writing me letters? Could Kip, the quiet, reserved guy who barely says more than a few words at a time, really be my secret admirer?

The thought sends a thrill through me, and I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips.

“Okay, maybe it’s Kip,” I admit, glancing at Cora. “Or maybe I just want it to be him. But, how do I find out for sure?”

Cora grins, leaning forward with a gleam in her eye. “Leave him a note. Ask him to meet you. If it’s him, he’ll show up.”

I bite my lip, considering the idea. It’s risky. What if it’s not him? What if I’m wrong, and I end up embarrassing myself? But at the same time, the idea of finally knowing the truth, of finally meeting my secret admirer face-to-face, is too tempting to resist.

“I’ll think about it,” I say.

“You’d better,” Cora says with a wink. I laugh, shaking my head as I grab a few more books from the counter, trying to distract myself from the swirling thoughts in my head. Holiday magic, sure. But real life isn’t a romance novel. Magic doesn’t just happen, not without some effort. And writing a note? Asking Kip—or whoever this mystery man was—to meet me? That felt like a lot more effort than I was ready for.

Still, the idea buzzes in the back of my mind, refusing to let go.

“Are you helping out with the festival?” She asks me and I sigh.

“No, my car was making a weird sound last night and wouldn’t start. I was going to try to take a look before I bring it over to the mechanics.”

“You know how to fix cars?” She asks and I shake my head.

“Nope, no clue, but I want to at least try before I pay for someone else to do it. What if it’s an easy fix?”

“Alright, let’s go. I’ll try to help.”

She pulls her phone out as we head outside to where my old car is sitting.

“Uh, try to start it now?” She asks, already googling car starter issues.

I climb behind the wheel and send up a silent prayer as I stick the key in the ignition and turn.

“What the—” I mumble as my car starts right up.

“Sounds fine to me,” Cora says, poking her head into the driver’s side door.

“Yeah, that’s so weird. It wouldn’t start yesterday, and I tried a bunch. This car is so old that before I moved here, I was bringing it in for work like at least once a month. Ever since, though, it’s been running great.”

“Maybe you should sell it or trade it in before it breaks for good,” she suggests.

“It was my mom's,” I whisper, and she nods, her eyes softening.

I turn the car off and climb out, locking the door behind me.

“I need to check in with Saffron,” I tell her, and she nods, following me over to the bookstore and inside.

We both try to warm up a bit as I look around for my sister.

“We should talk about the holiday festival,” Cora says, straightening up from the counter.

“Yeah, did you come up with any new ideas?” I ask her.

“Not really,” she admits with a sigh.

“What are you two scheming about now?” My sister, Saffron, asks as she sweeps into the bookstore, her arms full of decorations.

Saffron owns the bookstore and I cover for her whenever she needs it. I do the same for my other sisters, Olive and Maple at their businesses. I’m the youngest of us and the only one who has no idea what she wants to do with her life.

As soon as we moved here, Olive, the oldest, opened her own bakery. She’s always loved to cook so it made sense. Maple opened up her own adult toy store here in town and Saffron quickly followed with the bookstore. I was last, and so far, I’ve just been happy to help them out and hang out in town.

“Just trying to figure out who Ginger’s secret admirer is,” Cora says with a mischievous grin.

“Oh, please.” Saffron rolls her eyes as she sets down a box of garlands. “That’s easy. It’s Kip.”

I nearly drop the stack of books I’m holding, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. “Why does everyone think it’s Kip?”

“Because it’s obvious,” Saffron says with a shrug, as if it’s the most natural conclusion in the world. “He’s been into you since the day he moved here, but he’s too shy to make a move. The letters? Classic move from someone who’s too nervous to talk to you in person.”

I gape at her, feeling a blush creep up my neck. “That’s ridiculous. If Kip liked me, he would’ve said something by now.”

Saffron arches an eyebrow, giving me a look that’s somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “Ginger, he’s practically in here every day. Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious that he always finds a reason to hang around?”

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die on my lips. I can’t deny that Kip is always around, always hovering in the background but never quite stepping into the spotlight. He’s quiet, yes, but there’s something else, something deeper. Maybe I’ve been too wrapped up in the mystery of the letters to see what’s been right in front of me all along.

“Maybe he just likes reading,” I argue, and Saffron snorts.

“ I love reading, and even I’m not reading a book a day like he is. He’s always buying books. Since you started helping out here more, he’s become my best customer, and when I talked to Olive, she said the same thing. He’s even asked what pastries you worked on, and he only buys those whenever you help out at the bakery.”

Cora snickers, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “See? Even Saffron agrees. It’s Kip.”

I huff, crossing my arms. “I still think it could be someone else.”

“Like who?” Saffron asks, tilting her head. “Name one other person who’s shown even a fraction of the interest in you that Kip has.”

I frown, feeling cornered. “I don’t know. Maybe it is Kip. But what if it’s not?”

“Then you’ll never know unless you ask,” Cora chimes in. “Come on, Ginger. What have you got to lose?”

I sigh, glancing between my sister and my best friend. They both look at me with such confidence, as if it’s already decided—Kip is the one, and all I have to do is ask him to meet me. But the truth is, I’m scared. Scared of being wrong, scared of getting my hopes up, scared of getting hurt. Scared of what it means if Kip really is the one behind the letters.

“I’ll think about it,” I mutter, though I can tell by the way they’re grinning that they don’t believe me for a second.

“Don’t think too long,” Saffron says, grabbing the decorations again. “I’m going to start decorating for Christmas. Unless… you want to do it.”

She gives me a teasing smirk. It’s well-known in my family that I love Christmas. There’s just something about that time of year that makes me happy. I’ve had my apartment decorated for weeks, and my tree has been up since the middle of November.

“You know I want to,” I grumble, snatching the box of decorations out of her hands.

I hear her and Cora laugh as I head over to the front windows and get to work. I smile as I go, and my mind drifts back to Kip.

I wonder if he’ll be at the holiday festival next week. He hasn’t really gone to any of the other town events, but maybe this time will be different.

Cora and I have volunteered to help set up, and I need to finish up here quickly so that we can head over to town hall to get to work.

Cora joins me at the front windows and we have the display set up in no time. I step back to admire our work and she bumps her shoulder against mine.

“We should go, or we’ll be late,” she points out, and I nod.

We both bundle up and wave goodbye to Saffron as we head out. It’s a quiet, cold evening as we head down to the town square. The smell of pine and cinnamon hangs in the air, and a few snowflakes are starting to fall, lightly dusting the streets of Wolf Valley. It’s the kind of picturesque setting that you’d find on the cover of a Christmas card, and under normal circumstances, I’d be soaking it all in.

But tonight, my mind is elsewhere.

“Where do you want us?” Cora calls to the organizer.

“Start on the lights, please!” She calls back, and we nod and get to work.

As we start stringing up lights and hanging garlands, I catch myself glancing around, half-expecting to see Kip lurking nearby. He’s always been good at blending in, disappearing into the background, but now I wonder if I’ve been blind to his presence this whole time.

“It’s really coming along, huh?” Cora asks, and I blink, looking around at the town square and all of our hard work.

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

“Hey,” Cora says, nudging me with her elbow. “You okay? You’ve been quiet since we left the bookstore.”

I shrug, trying to play it off. “Just thinking.”

“About Kip?” she asks, her tone teasing but not unkind.

I sigh, shaking my head. “About the letters. About everything. What if... what if I’m wrong, Cora? What if it’s not him? I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

Cora’s expression softens, and she tugs me over to the side, away from the others. “Ginger, you’re not going to make a fool of yourself. Whoever this guy is, he clearly cares about you. He’s been writing you letters for months. And if it is Kip... well, you’d be lucky to have him. He seems like a good guy.”

I bite my lip, feeling the weight of her words. “I know he is. I just... I don’t know if I’m ready.”

Cora gives me a small, understanding smile. “You don’t have to be ready right this second. But don’t close yourself off, okay? You deserve to be happy, Ginger.”

I nod, though my heart is still heavy with uncertainty. Cora’s right, of course. Whoever this mystery man is, he’s taken the time to get to know me, to write to me, to admire me from a distance. Maybe it’s time I let myself open up to the possibility that someone—whether it’s Kip or not—actually wants me.

By the time we finish decorating the square, I’m exhausted. I touch the most recent letter in my coat pocket, the paper crinkling against the fabric as I head toward my car. My sisters are meeting me later tonight for dinner, but for now, I just need a moment to clear my head.

The streets are quiet as I drive through town, my thoughts swirling like the snowflakes outside. When I finally pull into the driveway of Olive’s house, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the evening ahead.

I’m not sure what tomorrow will bring, or if I’ll ever find out who’s been writing me these letters. But there’s one thing I do know.

I’m falling for him.

And if it’s Kip... well, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad after all.