A Pen Pal for Christmas (Christmas in Snow Hill #4)

1. Sofia

CHAPTER 1

Sofia

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my knuckles white against the cold plastic. Slowing to a crawl down Main Street, I took in the way Snow Hill glowed in all its Christmas glory. The small, Pennsylvania town looked like it belonged in a snow globe on the shelf of one of its magical shops—not out here in the real world, where things sometimes sucked, and not everyone got their happily ever after.

Then again, wasn't that why I was back here? To snag some Christmas magic of my own?

True, last year's Snow Hill trip had ended with the guy I liked turning out to be a bad guy during an epic snowstorm. But my time in this town had started out well, and there was a happy ending—just not for me and the bad guy.

Which was for the best, of course.

Either way, maybe that meant Snow Hill could make the bad things in life a little more magical, and so here I was.

Every lamppost I passed as I headed toward the town’s famous inn was wrapped in garlands and red bows, and every door on every house had a wreath and lights. It was actually mandatory in Snow Hill that residents decorate their homes for Christmas—in the HOA rules and everything.

I wanted to roll my eyes when I first heard that, but I couldn’t bring myself to ignore the sweetness. How simple and safe must it be in this place for them to mandate decorations?

My lips quirked into a smile before I caught myself, quickly replacing it with a forced frown. I wasn't here to be charmed. I was here because Philadelphia had finally swallowed me whole.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled up in front of the old Victorian with its beautiful wrap-around porch and festive lights. The Snow Hill Inn was an icon, and I couldn’t wait to settle in. But then I realized I had no idea where to park. When I visited last year, I hadn't brought my car. Did they have a parking lot around the back? Was the street parking for guests?

I told myself to chill out as I managed a decent parallel park across the street, and then I lowered my forehead to the steering wheel with a sigh. My car wasn't even off yet, and already I was letting overthinking and anxiety creep in. Would it be like this the whole time?

I hated that part of myself—the way my mind spun scenarios and dissected details until even the simplest things felt overwhelming. Philly had been full of noise and overwhelm, but this? This was supposed to be my escape. Snow Hill wasn’t just a place on a map; it was a chance to breathe again. If I could let go and let myself enjoy it.

By the time I made it to the porch, however, most of my worries were replaced with concentration as I focused on lugging my suitcases up the steps without slipping. I opened the door, immediately greeted by intense warmth that burrowed deep into my bones—and it wasn't just the temperature of the inn, but the wattage of Joan Patterson's smile as the friendly innkeeper rushed forward.

The woman’s round face was stretched so wide it should've cracked right open. "Sofia!" Joan sang.

I grinned as I hefted my suitcases through the door. “Hi!”

Joan barely gave me time to close the door before she wrapped me in a hug, her Christmas-sweater-clad arms squeezing tightly before releasing me with a pat on the shoulder.

The greeting caught me off guard. I wasn’t a stranger to overzealous hugs—thanks to my loud and proud family—but Joan hosted so many visitors at her inn that I’d been afraid the woman wouldn’t even recognize me.

"I'm so glad you made it,” Joan said, grinning at me like I was a lost relative. “Tommy's here—said you'd be rolling in about now."

"Great," I said, anxious to see my baby brother. Well, he'd always be that to me , but he was over six feet tall and a police officer, so he was most definitely not a baby anymore. "Where is he?"

"Right here," Tommy answered, wandering in from the sitting room with a to-go cup from the local cafe. "Got you a peppermint mocha."

I eyed my brother. “Did you poison it?”

“Um, that would be illegal.” He gestured to his police uniform.

“So this is just a nice surprise? No tricks?”

Just as I was about to take the cup, Tommy pulled it out of my reach. "Sorry, what did you say? You don't want it?"

"Gimme, gimme," I said, making grabby hands at the cup.

Tommy surrendered the thoughtful treat, and I brought it to my lips, moaning in delight as it warmed me from the inside out. "Aw, you actually remembered to ask for extra sweetener."

"I listen. Sometimes," he replied. "Anyway, you look good. Better than you sounded on the phone, that's for sure."

I shot him a glare. "Don't start."

"Just saying."

Joan snorted softly, clearly enjoying our exchange as she shuffled back to the front desk. "Let me get our girl checked in. If you can manage to quit bickering long enough, you can bring her bags upstairs for her, Tommy.”

I stuck my tongue out at my brother as Joan turned her back on us to get the old-fashioned brass key off the hook on the wall. He leveled me with a warning look before we both broke out in quiet giggles. This was just what I needed. Time away from the drama back home and time with my brother.

"So, what's your plan?" Joan asked, handing me my key after the check-in process was complete.

I leaned on the desk, wrapping my cold fingers around the warm coffee cup. "I don't have much of a plan right now. I'm thinking I'll stay for at least a month, but who knows? As long as there are no wild snowstorms or creepy stalkers this year, maybe I'll stay longer.”

“What about work?”

My next sip of peppermint mocha scorched my tongue as I inhaled too much of it. “I quit,” I managed through a cough.

Tommy had been texting, but at those words, he fumbled his phone, catching it before it hit the ground. "You did what?"

"I quit my job."

He blinked at me. "I heard that part. I'm asking for more details."

"Then why didn't you ask me to elaborate instead of just?—"

"Fi, out with it. Why did you quit?”

I wasn’t surprised by my brother’s reaction. I’d worked at the same swanky bar since high school, and everyone in my family knew I planned to take it over one day. But, as it turned out, even the best-laid plans could be ruined if one played their cards right.

"They begged me to stay, but it just got... complicated. So, I quit, and now I'm here."

Tommy opened his mouth to say more, but Joan beat him to it. "You know, the Hearthstone is looking for a part-time bartender for the holiday season. I know it's not nearly as fancy as the place you worked at in Philly, but the people are great, and the holiday spirit will make it fun."

I shrugged. "It would give me something to do while I'm here… other than hole up in my room reading. That's a plus, right, Tom?"

Tommy grunted, then shook his head. He gave me a look that promised this conversation wasn't over, and I sighed dramatically in response.

"Oh, and before I forget..." Joan reached behind the desk and pulled out a small flyer. "The town's doing a secret pen pal exchange this year. You write letters to someone—anonymously, of course—and they write back. Ida and I will be taking care of the deliveries, so you'll just put your letters in this box here."

Tommy and I turned to where Joan had pointed, and I smiled as I took in the red mailbox that was clearly a repurposed decoration for letters to Santa.

"That's adorable," I said, taking the flyer. There was a QR code on it, as well as instructions for how to sign up. I glanced back up at Joan. "Lemme guess, Abby is helping with the QR code stuff?"

Joan grinned. "That girl knows more about technology than I'll ever hope to, and she's only eleven. I can't imagine what your future children will be able to do with computers once they're my age."

I swallowed hard. My future children weren't something I was in a position to think about at the moment. At one point, it'd been a foregone conclusion that Dane and I would have a handful of kids by the time I was in my mid-thirties. Now, here I was, nearing that age with no kids in sight. No Dane, either. Which was, of course, a good thing. And by choice.

I opened my mouth to decline the offer to participate in the letter exchange, but then Tommy let out a loud snort as he read the paper over my shoulder.

"What?" I asked, glaring up at him.

"You don't need a pen pal. I think you've had enough letter-writing experience to last a lifetime, don't you?"

The air shifted, and I froze. Tommy's tone was teasing, but the sharpness of the words—and their implications, whether intentional or not—cut deep.

"Tommy," I muttered, low in warning.

"What?" he grinned, but then it softened when he studied me more closely. "Okay, I'm sorry. Bad joke."

I inhaled slowly, forcing my voice to sound steadier than I felt. "Maybe writing letters for something fun will erase the memory of all that." I waved the flyer at Joan. "I'll sign up as soon as I get unpacked."

I wasn’t entirely sure why I said yes. Maybe it was because Joan’s excitement was infectious, or maybe it was because the idea of anonymous letters felt safe. No expectations, no history. Just words on a page. And after everything that had happened, I could use a fresh start—even if it was just with a stranger on the other end of a pen.

Joan beamed at me, and Tommy grabbed my suitcases, hefting them easily up the wide staircase. “Is one of these suitcases just books?” he asked over his shoulder, feigning strain.

My lips twitched as I thanked Joan before following my brother up the stairs. “Maybe. Books are essential.”

“You could’ve just asked Santa for a Kindle, you know.”

“Blasphemy,” I deadpanned.

Tommy chuckled as he led the way to a door near the end of the hall. Pulling the brass key from the pocket of my hoodie, I unlocked it and stepped inside.

The room was just as I remembered it from last year: warm, cozy, and charmingly outdated. The quilted bedspread looked handmade, its soft reds and greens giving it a holiday feel without being overbearing. Antique furniture—a tall dresser, a vanity, and an old rocking chair in the corner—added to the room’s rustic charm. I walked to the window and pushed back the lace curtain, revealing a view of the snowy streets below.

“Same room as last year,” I said quietly, almost to myself. “No getting trapped in here during a scary snowstorm this time, I hope.”

“Yeah, let’s hope not.”

“Or a stalker,” I added. “Not that he was stalking me, of course.”

Tommy winced as he set my suitcases on the bench at the end of the bed.

“Sorry, that was insensitive,” I said, eyeing him. “How are you and Grace doing after all that?”

He shrugged, his eyes shuttering. “She’s strong. I still wanna punch something every time I think about it. I hate that I didn’t see it coming. Even let my sister date him.”

At this—and his pointed look—I had to chuckle. “Right, right. Because you’re so good at controlling who I date?”

“I’ll always want to protect you, Fi. Whether you like it or not.”

Emotion clogged my throat, and I tried to crack another smile. “I sure know how to pick ’em, huh?”

I meant it as a joke, but it fell flat.

Thankfully, Tommy didn’t leave me hanging, chuckling darkly. “You’re a magnet for trouble. Always have been.”

He wasn’t wrong. But this time, it would be different. This time, I’d left trouble behind, and I wasn’t about to let it catch up to me again.

“You would know, as the guy who spends his days arresting half the trouble in town.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” he replied with a wink.

“Modest as ever.”

Tommy ruffled my hair playfully on his way to the door. “I’ll leave you to unpack. Dinner later?”

“Yes, please.”

“Cool. Holler if you need anything.”

I nodded. “Thanks, Tommy.”

Alone at last, I sat on the edge of the bed, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. As I looked around my home for the next month, my gaze lingered on the dresser and the lamp glowing softly on top of it. I stared, but I wasn’t really seeing anything. My mind was back in Philadelphia, remembering the drama I’d left behind—the lies, the mess, the regrets that still clung to me like smoke.

It sullied the festive room, and I didn’t like it.

Pushing to my feet, I walked back to the window. Snowflakes drifted lazily in the air, and the ones that didn’t disappear landed softly on the streets below. They melted immediately, though, and I wondered if the snow would start sticking soon or if the streets would stay sludgy for the remainder of my trip. The snow was pretty as it fell, but it sure did make a mess when it hit the ground.

Like me and my life right now—caught somewhere between fragile beauty and a muddy, slushy reality.

Merry Christmas.