Page 23 of Secret Santas and Holiday Dances

Liam had pestered her all week until she’d finally agreed to come, and earlier today, when she’d told him he wasn’t coming, he’d asked her to ditch her plans. Maybe he really wanted her there. It hadn’t felt like he’d wanted her around all week, and she could admit that hurt her pride more than a little. Not just because he’d given so much time to Charlotte but because they were friends.

She swallowed her chocolate and licked her lips, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand just in case. Real classy, Grace.

Grace had spent the next hour agonizing over what to do, finally deciding she’d pop in real quick after remembering what Walt had told her all those years ago when he’d left for the last time. “Sometimes being in the shadows is easier than stepping into the light, but that doesn’t mean you belong there, pumpkin.” He’d always called her “pumpkin.”

She’d thought about his sage piece of wisdom many times since then, but it was only now, with Charlotte in town, that Grace thought she got why he’d told her that.

She’d step out of the shadows tonight, just for a quick trip. She wasn’t prepared for more than that. Literally. She didn’t have a dress to wear, but she could wear her best Sunday dress and say she decided to drop in on her way to see Spence. That way, she could at least see for herself.

But now that she stood staring at Emma’s front door, the thought of what was beyond terrified her. What if he was with her mother? Of course he would be. Grace had firsthand knowledge of her mother’s behavior when she set her sights on someone—and she’d set her sights on Liam. There was no doubt in her mind of that fact.

And the very idea of it made Grace straighten her spine and lift her chin. She’d step into the light for Liam, just to see. And if Liam wanted Charlotte back, Grace would accept that and move on . . . somehow, but she had to know. So she’d come.

She opened the door and a whoosh of warm air enveloped her as she stepped inside and shivered off the cold, rubbing her arms to warm herself. She glanced around the foyer, and at all the people milling about, and smiled. Looked like Emma had gone all out. Her cousins weren’t kidding about Emma’s party being on another level. Off to one side of the foyer was a grouping of three Christmas trees of varying heights, decorated in red, hunter green, and gold. The banisters were wrapped in holy and lights, poinsettias sat on bases of different heights and were scattered around everywhere, and on the far side of the room, on a table by the wall, sat an ornate wood nativity. Servers marched around through the foyer and down halls on either side of the stairs, handing out drinks and hors-d’oeuvre.

As she was taking in the general splendor, a man moved toward her through the crowd with a determined gait—Liam. Behind him, Charlotte stared open-mouthed as he walked away from her. He squeezed past a couple heading down a hall, past several groups of people standing and chatting, and finally came to a stop a few feet in front of her. He smiled, and her heart drummed against her chest at the speed of hummingbird wings.

“I thought you had plans tonight,” he said.

“I do,” she signaled over her shoulder with her thumb. “I felt bad that I changed my plans on you last minute, and thought I’d stop by before I head out.”

“So, you’re still going?” His smile faltered.

She nodded. “He’s expecting me.”

He made eye contact. “He’s a lucky man.”

Heat rushed over her face, and she stared at the marble floor and the reflection she saw it. Wow, this floor was way too reflective!

Charlotte came up alongside Liam, resting a hand on his arm. “Grace, darling, you made it.” She looked Grace over. “Don’t you have a gown?”

Grace bit her tongue. No, she didn’t have a gown. Did normal, working-class people just have gowns in their closets, just in case? “I’m not staying,Mother. I have a date.” Oh, now it was a date? She was certainly digging herself a big hole. Well, as long as she was digging it, she might as well make herself comfortable. “This is my date outfit, not my party outfit.”

Charlotte stepped over and took Grace’s shoulders in her hands, and looked her up and down. Grace always hated it when Charlotte did that. It made her feel like a bug under a microscope. “In that case, you look fantastic.”

Still felt kind of like an insult. “Thanks.”

The music slowed to an end, and another song started—a Christmas waltz. Liam glanced down the hall in the ballroom’s direction, then back to her. “If you’re leaving soon, I better take my opportunity to dance with you now.” He held out a hand to her.

She stared at it, and then him, waiting for the punchline. But he never cracked a smile, only held her gaze intently. Slowly, she reached out and placed her hand in his, then he led her down the hall to the ballroom, onto the floor, and into his arms. He gripped her right hand with his left and brought it to his chest, then placed her left hand on his shoulder, and his hand on her shoulder blade, directly below her arm, bringing her in close. So close, she could feel his heart beating against her chest and his warm breath against her neck.

He pulled her close, and she breathed in the spicy smell of him. She’d never been this close to him before and doubted she ever would again. It felt so surreal, like she was watching it happen from a distance.

Many other couples were dancing, but Grace couldn’t help but notice how many people were staring at her and Liam. Lots of people. She wanted to hide. From the side of the dance floor, Millie Douglas, one of the town’s gossips, smirked, then leaned over to two women at her side and said something. The women burst out laughing, and Grace wanted to die—step back into the shadows and never leave. Maybe she did belong there. Maybe Walt didn’t have any clue what he’d been saying.

Liam’s hand pushed harder against her back. “I’ve missed you this week.”

She pulled back to look him in the face. “What?”

“I know you’ve been busy, what with getting things ready for Davina, and your mother being in town, and being Santa’s little helper, but hopefully everything will settle soon,” he said. “I don’t know what to do with myself at noon if I’m not having lunch with you.”

He was the one who bailed on lunch this week, not her. “We asked you to come.”

He breathed deep. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’d invite Mrs. Lindgren to lunch if you thought it’d make her happy and she’s a truly unlikable person. I wanted to give you time with your mom; I know you don’t see her often. The last thing you needed was me intruding.”

She clenched her jaw. His words had stung. More than she could’ve guessed. “You think I make decisions based on what will make other people happy and not myself. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yep.”