Page 128 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“Or the rainbow layer,” Roger says.

She tilts her head to the side in consideration. “True.”

I push out a breath. “It doesn’t matter what kind of cake or pie, or what type of musical group shows up at Amanda’s house. She’s never going to forgive me for getting arrested and going to prison.”

My neighbors are silent for several seconds before Mrs. Rosa says quietly, “Forever’s a long time, dear.”

Maybe so, but Amanda can hold a grudge like nobody’s business. Add in the fact that we never got along much before my conviction, and it’s pretty much hopeless.

“Jace got a buddy,” Roger says, then takes the last bite of his meal and pushes the plastic tray to the side, making way for the pie.

Mrs. Rosa is too busy pinning me with a scrutinizing gaze to protest. “You made a friend, Jace?” she asks, like I just came home from my first day at preschool.

“A buddy,” I say. “Through Butterfly Buddies.”

“They finally responded?” she marvels.

My jaw drops. “You knew I applied?”

“Of course,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Roger told me.”

He grimaces, then shrugs.

Maybe I should be annoyed that they’ve clearly been gossiping about me, but it’s not really gossip. They care about me.

Maybe it’s weird that I’m a thirty-five-year-old man and my best friends are an eighty-seven-year-old retiree making do on a tiny social security check, a fifty-something woman who runs an illegal bakery out of her kitchen while living on disability, and a black cat who’s sort of an asshole. But it sure beats being alone.

Mrs. Rosa takes a seat, and I grab another fork and a carton of milk out of my fridge. Roger likes to eat his dessert with milk, while Mrs. Rosa and I prefer coffee—which I already brewed, figuring she’d drop by since I didn’t see her last night. We allsit at the table and dig into the pie as I talk about Aidan. Then, against my better judgment, I tell them about my hot chocolate outing with Mary and her son.

Mrs. Rosa narrows her eyes. “You like this girl.”

I snort. “How can you get away with calling her agirl? You’re barely old enough to be my mother.”

Roger points his fork at me. “And she’d’ve been a young mother at that.”

Mrs. Rosa eyes him like he’s a changeling. Two compliments in one night. I partially wonder if he’s a changeling myself.

“She’s not a girl,” I say with a grunt. “She’s a woman.” All woman.

Her eyes light up.

“You stop that right now,” I say.

“You like her.”

“She’s Aidan’s mother.”

“Youlikeher,” Mrs. Rosa says, her voice rising an octave.

“I don’t want to screw this up,” I say. “Butterfly Buddies only chose me because they’re desperate. Besides, I get the impression Mary doesn’t know about my past, and she’s definitely not the type of woman who can let something like that go. So not only is there no future with Mary O’Shea, but I suspect my time as her son’s buddy will be short-lived too.”

I realize that I need to be the one to tell Mary, and soon. The closer I get to Aidan, the harder it will be to disengage. He might not get attached to me, but I know stability is important to him. Even more so because his life has been so turbulent lately.

“You’re thinking too much,” Mrs. Rosa says, patting my hand. “You’re a lovely boy. She should be lucky to have you.”

I laugh at that. To hear her tell it, I’m a high schooler thinking about asking Mary out to prom. Not an ex-con interested in a lawyer who thrives on control—which has to be driving her crazy, given that her husband has deserted them, herson has special needs, and she’s just movedandchanged her job. Oh, and her son thinks she’s the biggest liar on the planet for letting him believe Santa was real.

Mary O’Shea’s life is not only out of control—it’s a fiery mass plummeting to Earth.

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