Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

S cott stepped onto his front porch, the crisp New Year's Eve morning air nipping at his face. The sun had barely crested the horizon, painting the sky in delicate strokes of pink and gold. He'd always been an early riser, but today felt different. Today was charged with possibility and an undercurrent of anticipation for the evening ahead.

His gaze landed on something unexpected. A small tin box sat near his front door, with what looked like papers tucked beneath it. Curious, he crouched down to investigate. The familiar scent of chocolate wafted up as he lifted the box, and underneath, he found a folded letter and a child's drawing, its bright colors stark against the weathered wood of his porch.

His heart quickened as he recognized Megan's neat handwriting on the envelope.

Inside, he set everything on his kitchen table, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows and catching the grain of the wood he'd crafted himself. The coffee maker gurgled in the background as he carefully unfolded the letter, smoothing its creases with slightly trembling fingers.

Dear Scott,

I've written this letter a dozen times in my head, but somehow putting the words on paper makes everything feel more real. More frightening, maybe, but also more honest.

These past few months on Palmar Island have changed me in ways I never expected. When I first arrived, I was just looking for a safe harbor. A place where Ruby and I could catch our breath after losing Danny. I didn't expect to find a community. I didn't expect to find you.

Scott's breath caught as he read on, Megan's words painting a picture of their shared moments. She wrote of quiet conversations over coffee, Ruby's delight at Santa's Village and the way he'd made them both feel seen and valued.

You've given Ruby something precious. A sense of magic and wonder that I worried she might have lost after Danny died. When she talks about "Santa Scott," her whole face lights up. You've become such an important part of her world, and that terrifies me almost as much as it warms my heart.

He reached for his coffee, taking a slow sip as he processed her words. The mug was warm against his palms, grounding him as he continued reading.

I've been offered a job in San Diego. It's everything I should want—financial security, a chance to practice law again, a fresh start. But every time I think about accepting it, something holds me back. Something that feels a lot like belonging. A lot like hope.

The truth is, Scott, you've awakened feelings in me that I thought were buried with Danny. When you smile at me across the Santa's Village crowds, or when you take time to listen to Ruby's endless stories about Mr. Bear's adventures, my heart does this thing, this unexpected flutter that reminds me I'm still alive, still capable of feeling something new.

Scott set the letter down for a moment, running a hand through his hair as emotion threatened to overwhelm him. He'd hoped, of course. Dreamed, even. But seeing Megan's feelings laid bare on paper made everything suddenly, breathtakingly real.

He picked up Ruby's drawing next, a smile tugging at his lips. She'd drawn him in his Santa suit, complete with a red hat and rosy cheeks, driving a sleigh that seemed to be filled with hearts. Cupid pranced in front, adorned with what appeared to be silver bells and a very red nose.

The coffee grew cold as Scott read the letter again, then a third time, each reading revealing new layers of meaning, new glimpses into Megan's heart.

I don't know what the future holds. The practical choice would be San Diego, with its promises of security and stability. But when I imagine leaving Palmar Island—leaving you—something inside me rebels against all that practicality.

I'm not asking for anything. I'm not even sure what I could offer, given how broken and uncertain everything still feels. But I needed you to know that you matter to us. That whatever happens, you've given Ruby and me a gift we never expected to find here—a sense of home.

Thank you for being you, Scott. For your kindness, your patience, and the way you make both of us feel like we belong somewhere again.

-Megan

Scott reached for his phone, his heart racing as he dialed Megan's number. It rang several times before going to voicemail. His mind spun with questions. When had she dropped this off? Why hadn't she stayed?

He typed out a quick text: When did you drop these off? Why didn't you come in?

The response came faster than he expected, but its brevity sent a chill through him: You were busy.

Scott froze, his coffee mug halfway to his lips. Busy? Last night, the only person who'd been here was?—

"Oh, no," he muttered, realization dawning. Kara had stopped by on her way through town, their conversation running late as they caught up. She'd been animated, laughing, touching his arm as she told him about her kids' latest adventures.

To someone looking through the window, especially someone as uncertain as Megan, it might have looked... intimate.

His fingers flew across the phone's screen: That was my sister, Kara. Please call me so we can talk.

Minutes ticked by with no response. The message remained unread, and Scott's frustration mounted. How could such a simple misunderstanding threaten everything?

He stood abruptly, pacing the length of his kitchen. The letter sat on the table, its pages slightly curled at the edges, Ruby's drawing beside it like a splash of hope in the morning light. He couldn't let this slip away. Not when Megan had finally opened up about her feelings. Not when there was still a chance.

Scott picked up his phone again, this time pulling up his recent calls. "Hey, James, sorry to call you today. I was hoping for some good news about that proposal.”

As he outlined his new plan, Scott's determination grew. He wouldn't let a misunderstanding destroy what they'd built. Megan deserved to know the truth—about Kara, about his feelings, about everything.

The morning sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across his kitchen floor. Scott looked at Ruby's drawing once more, at the hearts floating around his cartoonish figure, and made a promise to himself. By the time the New Year dawned, Megan would know exactly where she belonged.

Right here, on Palmar Island. With him.

The morning sun had climbed higher by the time Scott pulled up to Mary's Diner, the familiar bell chiming as he stepped inside. The aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods wrapped around him like a warm embrace, but his mind was already racing ahead to the evening's plans.

"There's my favorite Santa," Mary called from behind the counter, already reaching beneath the glass display case. "One peanut butter pie, made fresh this morning. Extra creamy, just the way Megan likes it."

Scott's surprise must have shown on his face because Mary laughed, her eyes twinkling. "Oh please, I've seen the way you two look at each other. This pie isn't just dessert. It's part of something bigger, isn't it?"

"If everything goes right," Scott admitted, carefully taking the boxed pie. "Thanks, Mary. For everything."

"Just make sure to invite me to the wedding," she called after him, her laughter following him out the door.

The drive to Miss Doris's seemed shorter than usual, his thoughts consumed with everything that needed to fall into place. The old Victorian came into view, its weathered charm somehow perfect for the woman who'd become the heart of their small community.

Miss Doris opened the door before he could knock, as if she'd been waiting for him. "Come in, dear," she said, ushering him inside. "The basket's all ready."

Scott followed her through to the kitchen, where an oversized wicker picnic basket sat on the table. Miss Doris had lined it with a red and white checkered cloth that stirred memories of summer picnics and simpler times.

"Now," she said, opening the basket to reveal several carefully wrapped packages, "I've included my cranberry scones—Megan's favorite—and some of those butter cookies Ruby can't resist. And this—" She produced a bottle of sparkling cider with a flourish, "—is for toasting new beginnings."

"Miss Doris, you didn't have to?—"

She waved off his protests. "Of course I did. That girl needs reminding that sometimes the best choices aren't the most practical ones." She pressed the basket into his hands, her expression growing serious. "Go remind her why this place—and you—are worth staying for. Good luck, dear."

Scott's throat tightened with emotion. "Thank you," he managed, the words feeling inadequate for everything Miss Doris had done.

Back in his workshop, Scott surveyed his workspace with renewed purpose. Sawdust motes danced in the streams of sunlight as he gathered the finishing touches for his plan. The jewelry box he'd crafted for Megan sat on his workbench, its surface smooth as silk beneath his fingers. He'd spent hours on the intricate star pattern carved into its lid, each point representing a wish, a hope, a possibility.

Beside it lay Ruby's treasure box, smaller but no less detailed. He'd carved tiny reindeer prancing around its edges, with Cupid leading the way. The lid featured a heart surrounded by snowflakes, and inside, he'd lined it with soft velvet perfect for keeping special treasures safe.

Moving to his truck, Scott began transforming the bed into something magical. Strings of fairy lights wound through the rails, their delicate bulbs promising to cast a gentle glow once darkness fell. He arranged thick blankets and cushions, creating a cozy nest that would keep them warm against the evening chill.

The picnic basket found its place of honor, surrounded by additional supplies he'd gathered: a large thermos of hot cocoa, sparklers for celebration, and a few extra blankets just in case. Each item was chosen with care, each detail considered.

As Scott worked, his mind wandered to Megan's letter, to the vulnerability in her words. She'd opened her heart to him, only to have a simple misunderstanding threaten to derail everything. He wouldn't let that happen. Not tonight.

Finally, he stepped back to survey his work. The truck bed looked like something from a fairy tale, the kind of setting where magic might actually happen. The gifts were wrapped and tucked safely away, the food was packed, and everything was ready.

Scott leaned against the truck, his heart racing with anticipation and nerves. The quiet street stretched before him, peaceful in the late afternoon light. He would pick up Megan and Ruby, and everything would change.

"This is it," he murmured, running his hand along the truck's familiar surface. "I have one chance to show her how much she means to me."

The weight of his hopes settled around him like a mantle as he climbed into the driver's seat. The engine rumbled to life, its steady purr matching the rhythm of his determination. As he pulled away from the curb, Scott allowed himself one last glance in the rearview mirror at his workshop—the place where he'd crafted not just gifts, but dreams.

Tonight would be perfect. It had to be. Because sometimes, the most important moments in life came down to a single evening, a single choice, a single chance to prove that love was worth staying for.