Page 137 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“Butterfly Buddies,” I say apologetically. “They give us information about the child we’re matched with so we know what’s going on in their life.” I grimace. “I’m sorry. That was way out of line.”

Her lips flatten, and she studies the rock again. “No. Glenn walking out wasn’t nearly as earth-shattering for me as losing my parents. It was as if someone had finally opened the door of a house that had been locked for years, and fresh air swept in. I could breathe again.” Surprise fills her eyes. “I’ve never admitted that to anyone before.”

I give her a half smile.

“It feels wrong to be glad about it,” she says. “Aidan doesn’t understand why Glenn left, and I can’t find it in me to tell him his father didn’t want him anymore.” Her voice breaks, and tears fill her eyes. “Glenn didn’t say it in so many words, but heconsiders him defective now. And having a defective child isn’t good for his image.”

Her words stoke my anger at her worthless ex, but I take slow breaths to rein it in. “He’s better off without him, but I understand your predicament. Aidan’s a smart kid. He’ll see it for what it is—abandonment.”

She gasps, as if caught off guard, and then shakes her head woefully. “Sorry. I know that’s what he did, but it’s such a brutal word.”

“Agreed. What he didwasbrutal.” My voice softens. “I thought you would be a fan of the truth.”

A derisive chuckle escapes her lips. “I used to think so too. Lately…” She shrugs, but it looks more like an act of defeat than indifference. “Is it lying if you do it to yourself?”

I feel her opening to me, unfurling like a flower, and God, I don’t want to do anything to interrupt this or to fuck it up. But this isn’t why I asked to see her. The deeper we get into conversation, the harder it will be to tell her about my past.

I’m about to launch into my rehearsed speech when a woman appears next to our table holding a tray of plates. It’s a different waitress from the one who was standing by Mary’s table when I arrived. Her nametag reads Josie.

“I have your lunch,” she says. “You must be very special, because Dottie doesn’t do this for just anyone.”

“Well,” I said in a serious tone, “Dottiehasknown Mary since she was captain of the debate team.”

Josie narrows her gaze on Mary. “You don’t look old enough to have gone to school with Dottie.”

Mary starts to respond. From the horrified look on her face, she’s probably about to tell Josie she’s not that old, but I interrupt and say, just as seriously, “It’s amazing what Botox can do these days.”

Josie studies me for a few seconds before giving Mary a weighing look. Apparently satisfied, she nods and starts to unload three small plates of tiny sandwiches from her tray. The plates are handmade with words painted on the edges in fancy scrollwork.

“This is a lot likeAlice in Wonderland,” Josie says. “Only none of them will make you grow taller or shorter.” In all seriousness, she adds, “But Dottie says she’s working on that.”

Mary gives me anis this woman for real?look, and I suppress a laugh.

“Well,I, for one, am glad to hear that,” I say.

Josie looks me up and down, examining me with a serious expression. “Yes, I guess you’re tall enough.”

A young woman walks through the door at the front of the teahouse and stops in her tracks, her three friends ramming into her back as she shouts, “Oh, my God! It’sJosie!”

Her friends start to squeal with excitement.

“Sorry,” Josie says. “Gotta go.” She heads toward the woman and her friends, who shriek even louder, carrying on like Josie’s some kind of celebrity.

“What the hell wasthat?” I ask, turning around to watch the server lead them to an empty table.

“Forgetthat,” Mary says, her gaze on the spread of food on the table. “What isthis?”

Each of the plates contains four one-inch-by-one-inch sandwiches. The offerings on the first plate look like they consist of cream cheese and avocado on white bread. The note says “calm.”

Another plate has tiny sandwiches that smell like fish with a note that says “luck.”

But it’s the sandwiches on the third plate that catch my attention, if only because both the bread and the filling are bright red. The note reads “cleansing.”

The waitress I saw with Mary earlier walks past, and Mary flags her down. “Tina!”

Tina walks over, her gaze lingering on me long enough to fully assess me before she turns her attention to Mary. “Aww…Dottie gave you her special.”

“Is this the appetizer course?” Mary asks, sounding dismayed.

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