Page 157 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

Aidan is standing next to his mother’s bed with his hands by his sides. “This Mom’s room.”

I stand just inside the threshold and take in the beige walls, the dark wood king-sized headboard, the plain beige comforter and pillows. There’s no artwork on the walls, and only a photo of Aidan on her nightstand next to a thick book and a large bottle of moisturizer with a pump. The room completely lacks personality and warmth.

“Okay,” Mary says behind me, her voice tight. “That’s the tour.”

As if his mom hadn’t spoken, Aidan walks over to the dresser and opens a drawer.

“Aidan,” Mary calls out in a panic.

He pulls out a pair of beige granny panties and holds them up. “Mom doesn’t have dinosaurs on her underwear. See?”

“Oh, dear God,” Mary murmurs, holding her fingers up to her lips.

“I don’t have dinosaurs on mine either,” I say, trying hard not to burst out laughing.

“But she does have some with flowers.” He pulls out a pair with magenta roses. These aren’t quite granny panties, but they were designed to cover quite a bit of skin.

“That’s enough, Aidan,” Mary pleads, trying to push past me, but I spread my feet apart and stand firm.

Aidan riffles through the drawer and pulls out a pair of Spanx, which he holds up in front of him. The high-waisted underwear with a few inches of fabric for her legs covers most of his body. “Mom wears these when she goes out to a party. But she hasn’t worn them for alongtime.”

“No parties to go to?”

“Nope,” he says, putting them back and pulling out another pair, this time bikini-like panties. “She has cartoons on this pair.” They’re pale pink and covered with images of Hello Kitty.

“See?” I say in a lighthearted tone. “Cartoons aren’t just for babies.”

Aidan looks them over, shrugs, then puts them back in the drawer.

“Okay,” Mary says, still trying to get past me. “That’s enough.”

Aidan closes the drawer, only to immediately open another. “She has this cartoon shirt too.”

He pulls out a black tank top with a large eggplant emoji.

To be honest, I’m shocked. This doesn’t seem like Mary on so many levels.

She shoves me to the side and slips past me, snatching the shirt from her son. “That was a joke gift from Aunt Molly. How did you even know it was in my drawer?”

“I saw it when I put the laundry in the basket.”

This portion of the tour is apparently complete, because Aidan heads into her attached bathroom.

I start to follow but pause next to Mary. She’s gripping the shirt so tightly, it looks like she’s about to rip it in two.

“You look good clutching an eggplant,” I tease, gesturing to the shirt in her hand.

Her gaze drops, and she realizes her right hand is squeezing the middle of the image. Panicking, she shoves it back into the drawer. “Molly gave it to me.”

“So you said.”

“I would have thrown it away, but I know she’ll look for it.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” I say with a grin. “Maybe youwantto keep it, Mary.”

Her face is scarlet, and I turn and head into the bathroom to give her a moment.

It’s pristine, of course, with a plain white rug in front of the sink. Nothing on the walls. Fluffy white towels.

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