Page 212 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

As I change, feeling very regretful about the whole not-wearing-a-bra thing, I ask, “Are you sure about this, Nicole? You’re only twenty-five. You don’t need to hurry into anything.”

She’s just a little younger than I was the year I got engaged to Glenn.

He asked me at a family dinner with his parents. We were in a fancy restaurant, and the ring was embedded in the frosting on top of my cupcake. It wasn’t the kind of proposal I would have chosen, because (a) I don’t like public scenes, and (b) I absolutely don’t like mixing food items with nonfood items. Heknew that too, or at least he’d had ample opportunities to learn it. But Tom and Ruth were there, beaming at us, my own parents gone forever, and part of me was so desperate to make them happy—to have a family again, one that wouldn’t be taken away from me. Later that night, though, after Glenn was asleep, I went to the bathroom and cried for an hour.

I don’t want Nicole to have any regrets.

She swivels around before I’ve fully gotten the blouse on, and I squeal. “Nicole!”

“What,” she says, smiling, “you’re the one who’s trying to talk me out of my wedding five minutes before it’s supposed to start.” This smile isn’t fierce, though—it’s almost fond.

“I’m not!” I say, horrified. “I just want you to be sure, because sometimes a person can get carried away by something and then they find themselves backed into a corner, and they can’t find a way out…” I’m all the more mortified when my voice gets choked up.

“You did stumble your way out, Mary,” she said, her tone almost kind. “It may have taken you ten years, but you did. You’re finding things you like, even if I’m pretty sure you found them all in a catalog for rich, old white ladies, and you’re ridingtwomagic wands. You came to a wedding without knowing where it would be until thirty minutes before the ceremony, and you didn’t even bring a present. I will absolutely continue to give you crap, but you’re doing okay.” Then she laughs. “And you certainly don’t need to worry about me. Damien knows who I am, and he’s the only man who’s never once tried to change me.” She flashes her teeth. “He knows better.”

I expect he does.

I nod, glancing at our ridiculous outfits in the mirror. There’s something almost charming about them, though, about this place that is so far from my comfort zone. “I had to ask. Also, I did bring a present, but I forgot it in the car.”

She snorts. “At least that’s something. Now, before we head out there, has Pencil Dick been bothering you again?”

“Yes,” I say, making a face. I’ve been trying not to dwell on that, and honestly, in the flurry of Jace and I getting here, I almost forgot. “He said he’d back off until after Christmas, but he called me just before Jace arrived.”

“Did you talk to him?” she asks sharply.

“Of course not, but he left a voice message.”

She holds out her hand, and without hesitation I give her my phone. A few clicks later, she presses it to her ear. I know what she’s listening to: “I’d like to see you, Mary. As soon as possible. I’m going to be visiting my parents for a week over Christmas, and I don’t want to miss the opportunity to meet in person. Please call me back as soon as you can.”

“He didn’t once mention Aidan,” I say, because that’s what bothers me most about the message. I’m not surprised he pushed boundaries—he always does, because he thinks he deserves what he wants—but he didn’t even mention the son he’s supposedly eager to see.

“Don’t worry about him.” She waves her hand dismissively, the phone loosely gripped in her fingers. I’m worried my phone will go flying, but instead she tucks it into one of her skirt pockets. Another fierce smile. “No pictures.”

“What?” I ask in horror. “How are you going to remember everything?”

She lifts her eyebrows. “I have a brain in my head, don’t I? Besides, they take one the moment the ceremony is over, like those photos you get at a theme park when you’re on a roller coaster.”

Goodness. I don’t like the sound of that.

“Dottie?”I exclaim. “When did you start doing weddings?”

The last thing I expected to see when I walked into the chapel covered in velvet—velvet chairs, velvet-draped walls, and velvet-draped velvet—was Dottie Hendrickson, wearing a pink crystal necklace so heavy-looking I’m surprised her shoulders aren’t drooping. She, at least, was allowed to choose her own outfit, or I assume as much since I doubt Nicole would have picked out a dress bedecked with smiling cupcakes.

She immediately pulls me into a tight hug, commenting on how my poodle skirt looks just like the one I had in high school, a revelation that fills me with dismay—I had one of these in high school?

“You know I do weddings, dear,” she says with a smile. “I officiated your sister’s wedding. I only fill in here from time to time. Poor Donnall ate one too many cleansing cakes at the shop, and I’m sorry to say he’s stuck on the toilet. But he’ll wake up tomorrow feelingdeeplyrefreshed, and what kismet that I was called in to officiate for your friend!” She gives Nicole a fond smile, as if she doesn’t notice the antagonism on her face, her nose piercing, or the way her toe is tapping the floor in impatience. Her gaze moves along to Damien, who is absurdly handsome but looks a bit intimidating, in all honesty, and then stops on Jace. Dressed all in black, he looks…well, let’s just say I know what I’ll be thinking about the next time I pull out my magic wand.

As if Dottie can hear my thoughts—and I have a split-second fear that maybe she can, as she’s always had an uncanny sense about people—she says, “I’m so glad to see you two young people are still enjoying each other’s company.” Then, sweeping hergaze across us all again, she says, “I feel so many happy hearts tonight. My crystals are pulsing with it.”

She makes no comment about our outfits, but then again, she probably doesn’t see anything peculiar about dressing up in ’50s clothes for a wedding at a bar. That’s Dottie for you.

“Can we get on with it?” Nicole asks.

“Oh, yes,” Dottie says, beaming. “You’re probably eager to get to the wedding night. Two young people like you must have a lot of stamina.”

“Dottie!” I sputter.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Damien says, giving Nicole a look that suggests he wants to devour her. I glance at Jace and see the corners of his mouth twitching. At least he’s not repulsed, or if he is, he’s also amused.

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