Page 145 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“Now, about that tree,” Maisie says, contemplating the bare branches. “We need to do something about that.”

I sigh. “I’m waiting until he’s ready.”

She’s already suspicious about Jace, so I don’t want to tell her about the wholeI’m not decorating it without my buddyfiasco. Still, I can’t help but wonder if Christmas is ruined for Aidan forever, and if I took that away from him too.

She shoots me a worried look. “Just like you’re waiting to tell him about Glenn?”

“Exactly,” I say shortly. Both of my sisters think I need to tell Aidan that Glenn’s not coming back. Ever. But he’ll want to know why, and I can’t tell him that his father doesn’t want him. I just can’t. Not yet, anyway. I’d prefer that he blame me for sending Glenn away.

And there’s still a chance that he’ll change his mind, if there’s any truth to what Glenn’s parents, Tom and Ruth, have told me. Not about me—oh God no, I’d never take him back—but about being a part of Aidan’s life, however distant. I want that for Aidan, even if I hate the thought of ever sending him to stay with someone who’s been so careless with his feelings.

The rest of the evening goes relatively smoothly, and Aidan’s eyes widen with wonder when it turns out dinnerismac and cheese just the way he likes it.

“How did you know?” he marvels, as if I’m a wizard. I can’t help but think of Tea of Fortune, of Dottie’s “readings.” I suspectshe was right about Jace, about the sadness and grief in his past, but her reading for me was nothing but wishful thinking.

Glenn wanted me because he saw me as a suitable wife. No man would want me forme.

But Aidan’s still gaping at me in amazement, waiting for an answer.

“A woman can’t give away all her secrets,” I reason.

Before my sisters and Cal leave, I ask Cal about spending tomorrow afternoon with Aidan, but he says he has to oversee the installation of a kitchen island at one of his flip houses. Molly rolls her eyes.

“He’s been spendingwaytoo much time at that house.”

“You’re jealous of a house?” he asks, nudging her. His eyes are dancing, and the warmth in them steals my breath. Yes, it’s obvious Cal might as well be Uncle Cal. He’s not going anywhere.

“You bet,” she says, grabbing him around the waist and tickling him. “I’m jealous of any woman who commands your time.”

He kisses her, and even though it’s just a quick kiss, I feel a nip of envy. Because I never had that kind of easy affection with Glenn. There’s a part of me—maybe all of me—thatdoeswant to be loved, and by a man who makes me feel like a woman.

It turns out that both of my sisters are busy tomorrow afternoon too, so Aidan will have to attend his usual after-school program, which he doesn’t have any more enthusiasm for than he does for school itself. It feels like another defeat, heaped onto what is already a mountain of it.

Still, they agree to keep their phones on, should Aidan need anything, since I won’t be able to have mine with me in court.

There’s one saving grace: Aidan doesn’t mention Jace again, not for the rest of the night or even the next morning during our daily struggle to get him ready for school. (He never wants to go, both because school is hard for him and because transitionsaren’t easy). I notice that his ankylosaurus painting, the one he made for Jace, is still carefully tucked inside his bag, but I don’t say anything. I know better than to think his silence means he doesn’t care, but I also don’t want to shake our fragile peace.

When I arrive at court that afternoon, there really is a clerk waiting to take our electronic devices. She collects them in a woven basket, the kind of thing you’d expect to see in a manger scene holding the baby Jesus. It amuses me to see that one of the phones is pink and bedazzled and another has a sticker from a brewery. You can tell a lot about a person by their phone.

My gaze drops to my phone. It’s black, without any identifying features, nestled into a gray case. Clean. Safe. Boring.

As I hand it over, I’m beset by the wild urge to go online and find a sticker for it, or maybe a case with some personality. Something.

“Where’re you going to put them?” I ask, suddenly fearful that they’ll end up in the trash can.

“Oh. We have a special locked cabinet in the bathroom,” she says, her tone very serious. “The judge doesn’t like to bring negative energy into the courtroom.”

I’d rather not leave my phone locked up in someone’s dirty bathroom, but it’s obvious I have no choice. I’ll just have to disinfect it later.

The judge has an enormous cloud of curly salt-and-pepper hair and wears a perfume that’s heavy on the patchouli. Something tells me that she is a regular customer of Tea of Fortune.

Someone should warn her about the cleansing sandwiches, but it won’t be me.

The hearing goes on for longer than it should, and I start darting anxious looks at the clock as three rolls around, then three thirty. Court is finally adjourned at four thirty, leaving me with plenty of time to get Aidan.

Better yet, everything went in our favor. The judge hasn’t made any decisions yet, but I think we’ll win.

The clerk from earlier comes back with the basket of phones, having retrieved it from the bathroom of questionable cleanliness, and she proceeds to hand them back to the line of waiting people. The opposing attorney somewhat shamefacedly claims the pink one, and the brewery one goes to an elderly woman. There are a few of us left, and the clerk has to actually turn on the lock screens of the last few because they look so much alike. I’m the only one who kept the factory setting, but I don’t have time to explore my feelings about that because suddenly the ground under my feet has turned to quicksand.

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