Chapter 17
Susan balanced a cardboard box against her hip and knocked on the weathered front door of a small bungalow. Through the frost-etched window, she glimpsed movement inside. Children’s voices rose in excitement, followed by a mother’s gentle shushing.
The door opened to reveal a tired woman in her mid-thirties, her hair pulled back in a hasty ponytail. Recognition flickered across her face, followed by surprise.
“Susan?” The woman’s hand flew to her throat. “I didn’t realize—I mean, Pastor John said someone would drop off a parcel, but I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I’ve been helping Pastor John for a few months now, Talia.” She extended the container with both hands. “This is for you from the Secret Santa program. There’s roasted turkey, vegetables, fresh bread, and some treats for your children.”
Talia’s eyes glistened as she accepted the offering. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means. With Jerry’s layoff last month and the medical bills piling up...” Her voice fractured.
“No explanations needed,” Susan said gently. Two small faces appeared behind their mother’s legs, eyes wide with curiosity. Susan crouched down to their level. “I heard there might be some cookie lovers in this house.”
The children’s squeals of delight brought more tears to Talia’s eyes. Susan said goodbye and left before she cried, too. She’d met Talia a few days after arriving in Sapphire Bay. The young mom juggled two part-time jobs with raising her adorable children.
Pastor John was helping the family with budgeting advice, but there was only so much planning you could do when your income had been halved. The food parcels from the church were helping to supplement the food Talia and Jerry could afford.
As she walked toward her truck, Susan thought about the food parcels she’d delivered to families in need. Witnessing the raw gratitude of people accepting help during a difficult time was truly humbling.
She climbed back into her truck. Lynda was waiting with her clipboard balanced on her lap.
“That makes nine deliveries,” Lynda said, checking off another address. “Just three more families on our route.”
Susan pulled away from the curb, navigating the snow-dusted streets toward the next address.
The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across Sapphire Bay.
Christmas decorations were appearing on every street.
Susan smiled as they drove past a property with multicolored lights, an inflatable snowman, and a twinkling star sitting above the mailbox.
“How’s Paul doing?” Lynda asked after a few blocks of comfortable silence.
Susan’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
She’d been expecting this question since they’d started their deliveries an hour ago.
“He’s in Missoula at a celebration of Michelle’s life.
They’re having it at the church where she married her second husband.
” Susan turned onto Pine Avenue, slowing as she searched for the house numbers.
“Paul called me this morning to say he’ll be back tomorrow evening. ”
Lynda studied her friend’s profile. “Are you doing okay?”
Susan pulled to a stop outside a modest duplex. “I keep thinking about everything Paul’s dealing with. He has a lot of regrets about his marriage, and he’s feeling guilty about his daughter’s death.”
“At least he doesn’t have to process all of that on his own,” Lynda pointed out. “He has you, and he has friends who care about him.”
“I know.” Susan turned off the ignition and reached for the next food parcel from the back seat. “It’s just hard watching someone you care about hurt and knowing there’s nothing you can do to fix it.”
Lynda’s expression softened with understanding. “Sometimes, being there for someone is enough. You’re doing that.”
They delivered parcels to the duplex and the next house—a single father with three teenagers. He’d tried to maintain his composure, but he couldn’t hide his relief at receiving help.
As they drove toward their last delivery, Lynda pulled a bundle of silk flowers out of her tote bag. Burgundy roses, cream-colored peonies, and sprigs of artificial evergreen spilled across her lap.
“I found these at a craft store in Polson,” she announced, holding up a realistic rose. “I’m going to use them somewhere in my wedding. Matt nearly had a heart attack when I showed him the florist’s quote for the flowers.”
Susan glanced sideways at the flowers. “They’re beautiful.”
“That’s what I thought, too.” Lynda arranged the blooms on her lap. “Isabel’s coming over tomorrow to help me wire everything together.”
“How’s Matt handling all the wedding planning?”
Lynda let out a long breath. “He’s stressed. Time is slipping by faster than we thought.”
Susan knew the long hours Matt and Lynda worked at the Paws of Hope Animal Shelter. Organizing a wedding on top of what they were already doing would make anyone stressed. “It’s just as well you’ve got Kathleen, Isabel, and me to help.”
“That’s what I keep telling Matt,” Lynda said with a frown. “But he keeps counting down the days and worrying that we’ll run out of time to create a special day.” Lynda turned to Susan. “You’ll never guess what happened the other day.”
Susan glanced at her friend. “From the smile on your face, it can’t be something bad.”
Lynda shook her head. “If we weren’t so busy, it would have been funny.
Pastor John twisted Matt’s arm into playing Santa Claus for the Christmas parade.
” Lynda laughed despite herself. “Matt tried every excuse imaginable—he’s too tall, too skinny, and he even said he’s terrible with children—but Pastor John wouldn’t budge. ”
Susan grinned. “Matt will make a wonderful Santa.”
“He’s terrified,” Lynda said with a grin. He keeps practicing his ‘Ho, ho, ho’ in the shower. It sounds more like a strangled walrus than Father Christmas.”
The mental image made Susan laugh. It was a genuine, belly-deep laugh that felt like medicine after delivering the food parcels. Lynda joined in, and for several minutes they giggled together like schoolgirls.
When their laughter subsided, Lynda slid the artificial flowers back into her bag and consulted her clipboard. “We’re not far from the Torres family’s house.”
Susan nodded. Maria Torres was a student in her cooking class. Maria’s husband had lost his position at the mill a few months ago. When Susan realized how difficult it was for them to pay their bills, she’d put forward Maria’s name for the Santa’s Secret Helpers program.
As they made their way along Pinedale Place, Susan thought about the food parcel they’d prepared for the Torres family. There were extra portions of everything. Enough to last several days if stretched properly.
The Torres house sat at the end of a cul-de-sac. It only took Maria a minute or two to open the door after Susan had knocked.
“Susan and Lynda! This is a nice surprise.” Maria’s attempt at cheerfulness didn’t quite mask her embarrassment. “What brings you here?”
“A Secret Santa delivery,” Susan said matter-of-factly, handing over the large cardboard box. “There’s enough for your whole family.”
Maria’s lips trembled. “You didn’t have to do this. There are other people who need help more than we do. We’re managing fine.”
“Everyone needs help sometimes,” Lynda said firmly but kindly. “That’s what community means.”
Maria nodded, unable to speak. She accepted the box with both hands and whispered a hoarse thank you.
Susan forced a smile, hoping to lessen Maria’s embarrassment. “I sent your spaghetti Bolognaise recipe to everyone in the cooking class. Julie made it last night and raved about it.”
“I thought they’d like it. It’s a family favorite,” Maria said. “I’ll hunt through my other recipes and bring the best ones in next week.”
Lynda nodded. “That sounds great. See you on Thursday.”
When Susan and Lynda returned to the truck, Lynda said, “I know what you should do. Bring Paul with you for the next round of food deliveries.”
Susan opened the driver’s door and started the truck. “He’s really busy. I don’t know whether he’ll have enough time.”
Lynda clicked her seatbelt into place. “If he’s struggling with what Michelle told him, he needs to see this side of Sapphire Bay. When people are having a difficult time, showing up with a hot meal or a box of groceries means the world to them.”
Susan thought about what Lynda had suggested. She was right. Sometimes, Susan didn’t know who benefited the most from the donations. It felt good to give something back to the people who needed it the most. And even more when you knew how much of a difference it made in their lives.
“I’ll ask him when he gets back from Missoula,” Susan promised. “He might be able to come with me on a Sunday when the restaurant’s closed.”
The winter sun had begun its descent behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of rose gold and lavender.
Susan drove through the quiet streets of Sapphire Bay, thinking about Paul grieving three hours away, about Lynda’s stress-filled wedding preparations, about Matt’s upcoming debut as Santa Claus.
But mostly, she thought about the families they’d visited who were trying to survive until their circumstances improved.
This was community. Not the polished version presented at charity galas or fundraising dinners, but the messy, honest, beautiful reality of people caring for each other in practical ways.
Paul understood this through his restaurant.
He fed people, created gathering spaces, and employed locals who needed work.
Bringing him with her on one of their deliveries would make him realize how much good he was doing in the community.
Susan stopped in front of Lynda’s clinic. Matt’s truck sat waiting in the parking area. Through the window, she could see him inside, probably reviewing charts or organizing supplies for tomorrow’s appointments.
“Thank you for coming with me today,” Susan said.
Lynda squeezed her arm. “I enjoyed every moment.” She grabbed her bag of artificial flowers and her clipboard. “Now go home, pour yourself a hot drink, and text that man of yours. Tell him you miss him and you have an idea for when he returns.”
“He’s not my man—”
“Yet,” Lynda finished with a knowing smile. “Give it time.”
She climbed out of the truck and waved as she walked toward the clinic entrance.
Matt appeared in the doorway, his face lighting up at the sight of Lynda.
He held the door open for her, placed a gentle hand on her lower back, and Susan watched them disappear inside together.
Against all odds, they’d found each other and were building something real.
She sat in her truck for another moment, then pulled out her phone and began typing.
Hi. Hope today wasn’t too difficult. Thinking about you. When you get back, I have something I’d like to ask you. Nothing serious—just an idea. Drive safely. —S
She hit send and drove home. Hopefully, Paul would say yes. And just maybe, it would help him see how much he’d changed in the last twenty years.