The Christmas Letters: A Magnolia Bay Romantic Comedy

by Brenna Jacobs

  It wasn’t a suggestion without merit. She still didn’t even know the guy’s actual name. But she’d be lying if she didn’t admit the crazy connection she felt whenever she read his letters. He was funny. And engaging. And they liked the same books and the same food, and he thought her business idea was amazing. That meant something. So what if he was the only person she’d actually told about her idea? She had to start somewhere, and clearly he’d been a smart choice.

  Her phone buzzed with a message from where it lay on the coffee table. She slid the letter she’d been writing onto the floor beside her and grabbed her phone, stretching out full length on her sofa.

  The message was from Lily. Just finished the last bit of online shopping you sent my way. It’s all being shipped to you, but it’s only two-day shipping so you should have it in plenty of time before Friday.

  Perfect! Dahlia responded. She’d been thrilled when Lily had volunteered to handle some of the shopping for the toy drive. She’d been all over Charleston looking for the toys the Santa letter kids had requested, but there were a few things she hadn’t been able to find in person. Lily was an amazing online shopper and had agreed to find some of the “harder to come by” items.

  I even found the Barbie with the curly hair, she texted.

  Dahlia smiled. You are amazing. Send me your receipts and I’ll get Mrs. Greenly to cut you a check. Dahlia hadn’t loved the soliciting donations part of running the toy drive, but she’d managed well enough. It helped that her Dad had made a substantial donation from his law firm. Deacon had done the same, as well as his brother, Emmett.

  Can you still come on Friday night? Dahlia asked Lily.

  We will be there. Should we eat first?

  I’m ordering pizza for everyone, Dahlia typed. Come hungry but bring your own olives. You know I’ll never ruin a pizza for you, no matter how much I love you.

  Even for your very pregnant friend? Lily added half a dozen smiley faces to her text.

  Man, you like to use that baby as a bargaining chip.

  A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

  ONE pizza with olives. But I’m not fighting firefighters off to protect it for you, so you better come early.

  Right. Got it, Lily responded. Are we coming to the actual fire station?

  No—to the warehouse space across the street. But there will be firefighters in abundance. The fire chief promised he would send over volunteers.

  Firemen wrapping Christmas gifts. You may have your work cut out for you. But at least the scenery will be nice.

  Haha. That’s one bonus. Mrs. Greenly has purchased gift bags in abundance. I think they’ll be able to handle it.

  Dahlia closed out her phone and picked up the letter, briefly signing it as C.P., Christmas Pen Pal, before shoving it inside the envelope she’d already addressed. It normally only took three or four days after sending a letter that she’d get one back. She’d be nervous waiting for a response to this one. She’d actually suggested they meet.

  What if he said no?

  Chapter 10

  Connor

  Ben dropped onto the bench in front of the station, a wide grin on his face. “Hey, so you remember when you told me you had the whole weekend off?”

  Connor shot his friend a look. He’d been enjoying a brief moment of peace and the unseasonably warm temperature; he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever reason Ben had for joining him. “I’m not going on another blind date, man. I’ve been a good sport the past two weekends, but enough is enough.”

  “They were not that bad,” Ben said. “The last one wasn’t, at least.”

  That was true. The date hadn’t been horrible. But Connor couldn’t tell his friend the reason he hadn’t wanted to go on a second date was because he was too busy thinking about his pen pal, a woman he’d never even laid eyes on. Ben would laugh until he was blue if Connor admitted such a thing.

  Connor would probably do the same thing if their roles were reversed.

  But Connor couldn’t help it. He felt a connection to the woman—whoever she was—and she took up a lot of his headspace. Her last letter had been short.

  And it had asked if he wanted to meet in person.

  The answer was yes. Unequivocally. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous about saying so.

  “I did sign you up for something,” Ben said, “but it isn’t a date. And the chief thinks it’s a good idea and I already told him you would do it with me.”

  Connor raised his eyebrows. “Something work-related?”

  “Sort of? It’s just this toy drive thing. The fire chief called over and asked if we could send a couple of volunteers over to help out. The fire station is hosting, and some volunteer organization charity thing is running it. They just need manpower. And it looks good in the community when that manpower comes from civil servants such as ourselves.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight for a few hours, doing prep work, and then tomorrow all day. We have to take the rig with us tomorrow. And dress in uniform. So we can meet and greet with kids, let them look around, answer questions. That sort of thing. We’re the sideshow while they’re waiting to meet with Santa. They’re expecting a pretty big turnout, I guess. The firefighters will be doing the same thing.”

  “We have to compete with the fire trucks? That’s hardly fair.”

  “True, but with our good looks it’ll all balance out.”

  Connor rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. I’m game.”

  And he was game.

  Right up until he and Ben arrived at the fire station a few hours later and saw Dahlia Ravenel standing in front of the building, clipboard in hand.

  Connor shot out a hand, grabbing Ben by the arm. “What is she doing here?”

  “What? Who?”

  Connor ducked behind Ben, even as he realized how fruitless it was to try and hide. They were standing in the middle of a nearly empty parking lot. There was no way Dahlia wouldn’t see him.

  “Her,” Connor said, gesturing toward Dahlia.

  “Wait, is that . . .” Ben started to laugh.

  “Did you know she was going to be here?”

  Ben shook his head. “I swear I didn’t know. It makes sense though. Didn’t you say she volunteers with the Southern Society? That’s who is running the toy drive.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that when you first mentioned it?”

  Ben shrugged. “I didn’t think it mattered. Dude. You’re being weird about this. Relax.”

  Connor ran a hand through his hair. He could be a grown up about this. He could volunteer and help with whatever he was supposed to help with and treat Dahlia civilly and with respect. He’d probably be too busy to even have a real conversation with her.

  A few other people were trickling toward the pavilion behind the fire station so Connor and Ben followed, assuming that’s where their volunteer services would be needed.

  The picnic tables inside the pavilion had been split in half. On one side, piles and piles of boxes sat, overflowing with toys and books and games. The other half of the tables were mostly empty, save stacks of labels, pens, and tape.

  Dahlia had yet to notice Connor was only a few feet behind her. She was busy looking down her clipboard, making checkmarks on what looked like a master list.

  “So we’re wrapping presents?” Connor asked dryly.

  “I knew you’d be thrilled,” Ben said with a smirk.

  At the sound of his voice, Dahlia turned, finally making eye contact. Heat crept up her cheeks in a way that only made her more beautiful.

  Connor glanced away, wishing he hadn’t noticed. Just looking at her made his stomach flip over.

  Squaring her shoulders, Dahlia turned toward them and smiled. “Welcome,” she said, a noticeable coolness in her tone. “You’re here to volunteer?”

  Connor nodded. “Our chief sent us over.”

  Dahlia nodded. ‘That’s great. We’re happy to have you, and we need the help. We’ve got a lo
t to get done before tomorrow.”

  Dahlia’s attention was pulled away when two more people showed up, a couple walking into the pavilion hand in hand. Dahlia beamed when she greeted them, hugging them both. When Dahlia gripped the woman’s hand, she glanced briefly over her shoulder and Connor had the distinct impression that she’d just said something about him. It was unsettling.

  Ben leaned closer. “I can’t believe you could have dated her, and you chose not to. You’re crazy, man.”

  Watching the way she smiled as she interacted with her friends made Connor think he maybe was. But he’d had his reasons. And they were good ones. Especially now that he’d spent some time getting to know his pen pal. A woman who wanted to open a business to make what were typically luxury services available for underserved communities? Who would rather have a job that made her happy than a job that made her money? That was the kind of woman he wanted to be with.

  Connor watched as a worry line formed between Dahlia’s brows. She glanced at her watch, then pulled out her phone, turning on the screen before putting the phone back in her pocket. Something was amiss.

  Connor stepped toward Dahlia. “Is something wrong?”

  She offered him a tight smile. “Nothing for you to worry about. We’ll get started in just a few minutes.”

  When Dahlia’s phone rang seconds later, her face sagged in visible relief. “Thank you,” she muttered under her breath. She answered the call, stepping to the side and leaving Connor with the friends Dahlia had just greeted staring him down like he was mystery meat in an elementary school cafeteria.

  “Deacon Calhoun,” the man finally said, extending his hand.

  Connor shook his hand, making eye contact. The man seemed friendly enough, just curious. “Connor McKay.” He looked between them. “Are you friends of Dahlia’s?”

  “She’s my best friend,” the woman said. “And my cousin.”

  “The one having the baby,” Connor said, almost without thinking. He remembered Dahlia had mentioned her when they’d been talking before her rescue.

  “Lily,” the woman said, finally offering him her hand. “And the one who knows how amazing Dahlia is.” She smirked. “You missed out. Big time.”

  Connor winced, unsure how else to respond.

  Dahlia rejoined the small group they’d inadvertently formed, saving him the trouble. “That was Mrs. Greenly. She was supposed to have everything delivered by this afternoon, but she got held up in Columbia today. She’s still an hour away.”

  “Can we wait an hour?” Lily asked. “Maybe we eat first?”

  Connor’s stomach rumbled. He’d be on board with eating first.

  Dahlia ran a hand over her face. “I really wanted to get started earlier rather than later. I have no idea how long this is actually going to take, and I don’t want to keep volunteers out all night, and . . .” She sighed.

  “Hey. We can make this work,” Lily said. “Tell me what you need. We’re here for you.”

  Dahlia nodded, gratitude evident in her smile. “I know. Let me just think for a minute.” She looked across the pavilion where her army of volunteers milled around, waiting for direction.

  “Mrs. Greenly says all the wrapping stuff is in her garage. What if I just drive over to her place and get it? There’s enough here that you guys could start wrapping the smaller stuff.”

  “Totally,” Lily said. “We can handle it. Want me to head things up while you’re gone?”

  “Yes. That would work,” Dahlia said. “Except I can’t take my car because it’s full of the presents that you need to be wrapping.” The group followed her gaze to her sleek SUV, the back hatch open, mounds of presents visible inside. “They’re organized and everything. Moving them isn’t worth it.”

  “Connor has his car here,” Ben said, joining the conversation. Where had he been all this time? “He could drive you.”

  Dahlia looked at him, her brow furrowed.

  “He’s got a truck with a covered bed. There’s plenty of room for whatever it is you need to pick up.”

  “It doesn’t make sense for you to leave though, since you’re the one in charge,” Connor said. “What if I just went to pick up whatever it is you need?” He glanced at his friend. “Or I could take Ben with me. We’re happy to help.”

  Dahlia nodded, her eyes hopeful. “Yes—no.” Her shoulders dropped. “I can’t ask Mrs. Greenly to give her garage code to someone she’s never met. She’s weird about stuff like this. She’ll give it to me, but I don’t think she’ll give it to anyone else.” Dahlia pressed a hand to her forehead.

  “What about Trish?” Lily asked. “Isn’t she supposed to be helping tonight? Could she go get them?”

  “She’s supposed to be. But she’s with her mom.” Dahlia shook her head. “I’ll just go. We’re wasting time talking about it.” She looked to Connor, a question in her eyes. “Can you drive me?”

  Connor ignored Ben’s smirk as he pulled out his keys. “Sure.”

  “And can we pick up the pizza on our way back?” she asked.

  Connor nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Dahlia gave Lily a few instructions about gifts and wrapping paper and which ones to start on first and then turned to face Connor. “Ready to go?”

  Connor nodded silently, leading the way to his truck, a little dumbstruck that he was suddenly spending time alone with Dahlia Ravenel. At least he’d cleaned out his truck earlier in the week. He unlocked the doors as they approached, his taillights blinking in response.

  “Thanks for this,” Dahlia said as she climbed into the passenger side. “I tried to think of everything, but Mrs. Greenly was supposed to drop off the wrapping paper and gift bags earlier today, and her daughter, Trish, was supposed to bring the pizza. I had no reason to assume they wouldn’t be here. I didn’t think of a contingency plan.”

  “It’s no problem,” Connor said. “I’m happy to help.”

  An uncomfortable silence settled between them. “They live just over the bridge in Mount Pleasant. It shouldn’t take us long to get there.”

  Connor nodded, heading his truck toward the Ravenel bridge. He glanced at Dahlia, suddenly curious. “Are you related?”

  She glanced at him, confusion clouding her expression.

  “The bridge,” Connor explained.

  “Oh. Only distantly. We’re not going to the same family reunions, anyway.”

  Dahlia didn’t offer any additional information, so Connor didn’t ask. He supposed they could ride all the way to Mount Pleasant in silence, but just because he hadn’t been interested in dating Dahlia didn’t mean he wanted to be rude.

  “So how have you been?” he asked. It had been almost a month since he’d run into her on the beach.

  She shrugged. “Just busy. You know, driving my fancy car, walking aimlessly around my mansion. It’s difficult being so rich.”

  Connor had to give her props for her delivery. He’d never heard such biting sarcasm delivered with so much poise.

  “You aren’t going to let me off the hook, are you?”

  She shot him a sideways glance. “You misjudged me, Connor. I can’t pretend like it didn’t sting.” She motioned up ahead as they neared the end of the bridge. “Turn right at the next light.”

  “So how did you get involved with the toy drive?” Connor asked, hoping she’d allow the change of subject.

  “This is actually the first year we’ve had one. We do this thing where we answer letters kids write to Santa every year. But this year, I thought, why not do more? That question turned into a toy drive where we’re providing the actual gifts kids have asked for in their letters, big or small.”

  Connor stilled, suddenly itching to ask who all was involved with the Santa letter project. Could Dahlia possibly know who had been writing him letters?

  “I thought the fire station did the Santa letter thing.”

  “They collect them,” Dahlia explained. “Then give them to the Southern Society and we answer them.”

 
Connor nodded, ignoring the uncomfortable tug in his gut. That meant whoever his pen pal was, she was a part of the Southern Society. It had been enough to disqualify Dahlia. That, and her ridiculously expensive car.

  He didn’t know what kind of car his pen pal drove. And suddenly he didn’t want to know.

  But no—his pen pal was different. Her letters were so grounded, so real.

  The fact that Dahlia likely did know who was writing him letters was a disquieting thought. Was there a way to ask without bringing himself into it? He dismissed the possibility as quickly as it had occurred to him. He couldn’t ask Dahlia about another woman. Not after the way their relationship had started.

  He thought back to that day, to the way they’d talked so easily through the stall door. There had definitely been a spark.

  “We as in you?” Connor asked hesitantly.

  “I guess over the years, responding to the letters has become this chore no one really wants because you’re just handwriting this form letter over and over again. But I’m the new girl who didn’t want to plan a gala or work a charity auction or solicit donations.” She shrugged. “So I got the Santa letters.”

  Connor’s heart nearly pounded out of his chest.

  Did that mean what he thought it meant?

  That Dahlia was the one writing the letters? Did that mean she was the one that wrote his letter?

  Could he have been wrong about Dahlia? Could she be the woman writing such funny, engaging, heartfelt letters?

  He couldn’t know for sure, not unless he asked her.

  “Right here,” Dahlia said, pointing out a road on the left. “And then it’s the second driveway on the right.”

  Connor slowed and turned his truck onto the winding drive, listening as Dahlia called Mrs. Greenly to get the garage code they needed to retrieve all the gift-wrapping supplies.

  When they reached the house, he tried not to gape. It was gorgeous. Enormous. Finely finished and looking very much like it belonged in some magazine, in a spread on Southern, plantation-style estates.

  “Wow,” he said followed by a low whistle. “This is some house.”

  “She says everything is in that third garage bay,” Dahlia said. “Want to back up to it?”