Wishing he could adjust his ski cap so that he was sure that it covered all of his face, he gripped the box and continued to walk, keeping an eye out. Would she be here?
She seemed to have some of the same channels that he did, or maybe they were different but just as good. He wasn’t sure, but he knew that meeting her was not completely out of the question. It’s why he had chosen this time—that was the time he had met her before, and she seemed to work the same time he did.
Still, there was no sign of her as he walked to the back porch and set his box down.
He was just about to straighten and go when his eyes caught on something white that stuck out from underneath the rug.
And that’s when he realized there was a box on the other side of the porch with the same type of supplies—wrapping paper, bows and ribbons, name tags, anything a family might need to wrap presents up for their children.
He almost stood and laughed, but he remembered the need to be cautious.
And what was that white thing?
Should he just leave it? It might be for the Roberts family. But who kept a piece of paper under their back doormat?
Figuring that if it wasn’t actually his, he could return it, he grabbed the paper, shoved it up his sleeve, and hurried off, looking in all directions, not just to make sure that he wasn’t caught but also to see if the other Secret Saint was around. Had she waited on him? Would she want to talk?
Was the note from her?
He had to admit that’s what he was hoping.
He didn’t take the note out of his sleeve until he had made it home, parked his truck behind the shed on the tree farm, and got in the ATV that he used to drive from his mother’s house to the farm.
It was back roads, and thankfully the ATV had a heater in the cab.
It also did not have a dome light, but he couldn’t wait another minute to read the letter, so while he was waiting for the engine to warm, he grabbed his phone, flipped the flashlight on, and pulled the piece of paperout of his sleeve.
He had to laugh at himself a little, because he was going to be crushed if it wasn’t from the other Secret Saint. He had really gotten his hopes up.
Anticipation swirled in his stomach as he opened the folded sheet.
In very neat, printed handwriting, there was a simple sentence.
Meet me at the gazebo tomorrow night at midnight. – SS
“Wow.” Roland stared at the paper, reading the short message over again and letting it filter into his brain. She wanted to meet?
Did he want to do that? Would he?
He blinked and then stared off into space for a bit. Was this wise? Was someone just trying to unmask him? Or maybe they were trying to set him up for some kind of nefarious reason.
But he knew the other Secret Saint had been there—her box sat there on the porch. So…this could actually be real.
And what was the worst that could happen if it wasn’t an actual Secret Saint, but just someone trying to set him up for something? What was the worst that could happen? He’d just lose the anonymity that he really loved.
But he wasn’t doing anything wrong. It wasn’t like someone was going to take him to prison or catch him at anything.
Tucking it in his pocket and putting the ATV in gear, he decided he would go home and sleep on it. Maybe he’d even run it by Judd if he saw him the next day. Although, it was going to be a busy day because the fire company in Whisker Hollow had run out of Christmas trees and thought they could sell another tractor-trailer load before Christmas, so starting at 6 AM, he was going to be cutting and wrapping Christmas trees in order to load them when the truck got there around noon.
Since it was just him, it was probably going to take all day, and there would be the occasional private shopper who stopped at the Christmas tree farm to buy their tree.
The closer they got to Christmas, the more shoppers who showed up randomly during the day. Of course, weekends were always the busiest.
Still, he had a full day in front of him, and he had a pretty big decision to make.
He had a little bit of trouble getting to sleep once he finally got in bed. Who was this mystery Secret Saint? Was it someone he knew? Was it an older woman? Was it someone his own age?
He had to admit that he hoped it was someone close to his age, because he felt…something when he was working with her. An attraction, a pull, a desire to know more about her, other than just blatant curiosity, which was to be expected, considering the anonymity of both of their identities.
