Page 13 of First Kissmas

I saw a pretty craftsman-style lamp in one of the shop windows yesterday. It made me wonder about your work, what you’re creating up there on your mountain. I bet your workshop is full of beautiful, one-of-a-kind things.

You don’t need to write back. I know you value your solitude, and the last thing I want is to intrude on that. I just wanted you to know that I’m okay, that I’m building something here. And that I’m grateful. For everything.

Take care of yourself,

Courtney

p.s. The sunrise really is stunning here. I wish you could see it.

Dear Courtney,

Your letter made my day. Hell, my whole week. I won’t deny that I’ve been thinking about you. Every time I drive past the inn in Mudsbury, I remember finding you out in the snow.

I’ve been debating whether to write back. The last thing I want is to distract you when you’re working so hard to build your new life. But I need you to know you’re not intruding. Not at all.

Good to hear you’re settling in. Don’t be too hard on yourself about the mistakes at work. We all make them. Trust me onthat. Abby sounds like good people. Trust her laugh. Sometimes the best way to learn is to make every mistake possible.

Funny you mentioned seeing a lamp in a shop window. I’ve been working on a commission for a coastal-themed piece. Found myself wondering if it would fit in your apartment. I’ve been doing that a lot lately—seeing things and thinking about how you’d react to them.

Christmas was quiet, like always. I made my stew. Took my walk. Found myself looking at the tracks in the snow, remembering how your footprints looked that night you came to get me out of my truck.

I’m glad the decorations brighten up your apartment. I probably spent too long picking them out, but I wanted them to be right. Wanted you to have something that felt like yours.

Currently, I have three commissioned pieces in progress. One’s giving me trouble—can’t get the light to fall exactly how I want. It keeps me up at night sometimes, trying to solve it. But that’s normal. Part of the process.

Take care of yourself, Courtney. Don’t feel like you have to keep me updated. But if you want to, know that I’ll always read your letters.

–Ryder

Dear Ryder,

Thanks so much for writing back. Your letter meant more to me than I can say. Sometimes I wonder if I’m foolish for missingsomeone I only knew for such a short time, but then I remember how you said you think of me too, and I feel less foolish about it.

The apartment is starting to feel more like home. I found a secondhand armchair at a local thrift store—it’s a bit worn, but it fits perfectly in the corner by the window. I also got a small bookshelf from a yard sale. The owner even delivered it for free when she found out I was new in town. People here are like that—surprisingly kind to strangers.

Even my apartment manager has warmed up to me. He fixed my squeaky bathroom door the other day and ended up telling me all about his granddaughter. It’s nice, these little connections. Though I have to admit, some evenings feel a little too quiet. But I guess that’s probably natural when you’re starting over.

I worked New Year’s Eve at the diner. It was actually fun—everyone who came in was in such a good mood. And I only mixed up two orders the whole night! (See? I’m improving.) At midnight, all the fishing boats in the harbor blew their horns. The sound carried all the way up to Main Street. I stepped outside to listen, and in that moment, watching all these strangers hugging and laughing, I made my New Year’s resolution. This year, I’m going to start taking steps toward making my wildest dreams come true.

I think about your workshop often, wondering what you’re creating up there. Did you solve the problem with that troublesome commission? The one where the light wasn’t falling right? If you ever have a delivery near Fairhope, I hope you’ll let me know. I’d love to see you again.

Write back if you’d like. (Is it obvious that I hope you will?)

Yours,

Courtney

p.s. I found an old camera at the thrift store. I’m surprised at how much I enjoy photography—maybe it’ll turn into a real hobby. Since I can’t show you Fairhope’s stunning sunrises in person, I’m enclosing a photo of one.

Dear Courtney,

Your sunrise photo is propped on my workbench now. It’s gorgeous. Keep taking pictures—there’s something special about finding a new way to see the world around you.

It’s really good to hear that the town is treating you well. Those small kindnesses from strangers can mean everything when you’re starting over. Just remember to trust your instincts about people. You’ve got good ones.

It made me smile, hearing about your resolution about your wildest dreams. By that, do you mean the traveling you talked about? Or saving up for your own house someday? I remember you talking about those things that night at the inn.

I solved that lighting problem, by the way. Had to completely rebuild the base, but now it works. I’ve got a commission coming up in March for a restaurant out toward the coast. It’s not exactly close to Fairhope, but I thought about what you said. About seeing each other again. I think about it more than I probably should.