Page 138 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“Nope. It’s the main.” Tina shrugs with awhatcha gonna doface. “Tiny cakes come out next.” She frowns as she looks down at the table. “This was supposed to come with tea. I’ll go get it for you.”

She starts to walk away, and I call after her, “And some water?”

She lifts a hand in acknowledgement.

“So,” I say, knowing I’ll be starving as soon as I walk out the door. “We just pick them up and eat them? There aren’t any other plates. Or silverware.”

“Jace,” Mary says, guilt washing over her face. “I’m so sorry. I heard they were serving lunch. I had no idea…”

“Hey, it’s an experience,” I say with a sly grin. “What do you say we try them at the same time.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Which one do you want to start with first?”

“Calm,” she says instantly.

I laugh and pick up one of the calm squares, lifting it to eye level. Mary does the same, and I bump my sandwich into hers. “To new experiences.”

Something flickers in her eyes, and then she smiles. “To new experiences.”

We both stuff the squares into our mouths at the same time, and I’m amazed by the flavors bursting on my tongue. The look on Mary’s face says she’s experiencing the same thing.

“That was not what I was expecting,” I say once I’ve swallowed. “I could eat like ten more of those.”

“And that might equal one sandwich,” she says with a small smile. “But you’re right. Itwasgood.”

“Which one should we try next?” I ask.

She lifts one from the plate labeled luck to her nose and makes a face, then sets it back down. “I’m not so sure about this one.”

“You have to try it. They’re so small it’s barely a bite,” I tease.

Tina arrives with an honest-to-God teapot and two mismatched china teacups. It’s like Mary and I are in nineteenth-century England.

“Um, do you have any mugs?” I ask in a hopeful tone.

A playful grin lights up Tina’s face. “No. You’ll have to put your pinky out like the rest of us.”

Mary hides an irrepressible grin behind her hand, and it strikes me that she’s letting her guard down. Given what I still need to tell her, I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing.

Tina sets a teacup in front of each of us, giving me the one with pink roses while Mary gets a more generic blue pattern. “You have to drink everything in your cup so one of us can read the leaves. Dottie wasveryspecific about that.” She looks over her shoulder, then leans closer and whispers, “Just don’t let Josie do it. Her readings are famously dark.”

“You’re kidding,” Mary says. “Don’t people get fortune readings looking for good news?”

“You’d think, right? She’s actually developing a bit of a following for it. People come in specifically to hear the bad things she has to say.”

Hence the squealing earlier.

A couple of tables away, two preschoolers begin throwing crystals on the floor while their mothers continue a conversationabout where to take the best Pilates class. The next crystal that’s thrown hits a customer a table over.

The wounded woman turns around, rubbing the back of her head. When she sees the mothers are still deep in conversation, she snaps, “Excuse me.”

The kid chucks another crystal and bonks the woman again, this time on the forehead.

Now livid, the woman jumps up out of her chair and taps the shoulder of the mother closest to her, a woman with a long blond ponytail. “Excuse me!”

The blond-ponytail woman looks up at her with scorn. “Did you really justtapme?”

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