Page 214 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

Which is when I realize—oh shoot—it was in the clothes he tore off her. I’m bending over the pile of possibly dirty polyester, searching for my phone and hoping the unbreakable case lives up to its name, when Dottie comes in with a tray bearing five champagne glasses, only four of the drinks are a deep red and the fifth is yellow. Finding the phone, I slip it into my pocket without looking at it.

“Young people in love make my heart happy,” Dottie says, not fussed at all when Nicole and Damien still don’t pull apart. She offers the tray to us, and because it’s Dottie, I take one of the red drinks. Jace does the same.

“It’s not blood, is it?” he asks. “We did have a bet going that vampires might be involved in the ceremony.”

“I’m more worried it might be a cleansing tonic,” I say.

Dottie chuckles as she sets the tray down on the one table in the chapel. “Oh no, nothing like that.” It’s only after Jace and I have clinked glasses and taken a sip—the bubbly drink tastes likecherries, with a hint of something herbal—that she says, “Just a mild aphrodisiac.”

I choke, spitting some of the drink, which ends up on Jace’s shirt. I’m mortified, but he just grins and says, “Good thing it’s black.” Turning toward Dottie, he asks, “What’s in the yellow one?”

She lifts it and then takes a sip. “It’s a taste of sunshine to remind me of the happiness I had with my great love. Now, it’s my honor to help all you young people find the same.”

There’s a surprising sadness to her, though, sharp as lemon. It strikes me that even though she’s past eighty, she’s one of the youngest older people I know, one who’s sure to have a decade or two in front of her. Dottie’s the kind of person who thrives in company, a thought that has me saying, “But life’s all about finding second chances…and third chances and fourth chances, Dottie. You of all people know it’s never too late to try again.”

She swats the air. “Oh, I’m too busy and set in my ways for any of that. It’s a rare man who doesn’t want to change you.”

Hadn’t Nicole said the same? They’re both right, and I find myself thinking of the way Jace stood back and let me face off against that asshole (happy, Nicole?) who tried to hurt Cleo. Of the way he’s never once presumed to tell me what to do or how to feel. Even earlier, in the truck, he didn’t tell me not to be judgmental. He just opened my eyes to a different perspective.

Swallowing, I say, “After Glenn left, I thought I’d be alone. I thought Iwantedto be, but if you’re with the right person, you know yourself better rather than less.”

I feel Jace watching me, and shame washes over me. Oh God, I’ve said too much.

But he wraps an arm around my waist, his touch as bold as the way Nicole and Damien are still making out in the corner of the room, and again I feel emotion clogging my throat, my very being. But it doesn’t feel bad. It feelsgood.

“You don’t need to be alone, Dottie. Not if you don’t want to be.”

She sets down the yellow drink. “Don’t you worry about me, dear. I have a beautiful family and several children to dote on. I’m far from alone.” She glances at Damien and Nicole, smiling approvingly. “I suspect the wedding is over.”

“Yes, we should probably head home,” I say, turning to look up at Jace.

It wasn’t my intention to make it sound like it was our home, but I don’t hate the thought. Maybe I’m being a fool again, but having Jace around for the last few weeks has made me realize what it would be like to have a partner who’s really a partner—one who’s there because he wants to be. One who sees me as a womanandas a person.

“Yes, let’s.”

“But we can’t forget our clothes,” I say.

“This isn’t what you wore here?” Dottie asks, surprised, as if my high school poodle skirt still has a rotation in my closet.

We all shout our goodbyes to Damien and Nicole, who lift their free hands in the air in a wave as we leave the chapel. Goodness, I hope no one else was supposed to get married today. The way those two are going at it back there, I suspect they won’t leave until they’re, ahem, finished. I have a feeling my worry about the velvet drapes was warranted.

It’s not until we’re back in the truck, after having hugged Dottie and agreed to come visit her at the tea shop—given the sadness I saw in her eyes, I definitely will—that I take out my phone to make sure it’s not broken.

There are two missed calls from Dennis, the private investigator I hired to look into Lester Montague.

“Oh!” I exclaim, caught off guard, and Jace looks my way.

“Your phone broken?”

But I’m already lifting it to my ear to listen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

JACE

“Hey, Dennis,” Mary says, casting a quick glance at me before turning to face the windshield. I’m worried it’s Glenn’s parents calling about Aidan, so I stay parked at the curb.

But Mary doesn’t look like she’s on the verge of panic. Instead, her back stiffens and her jaw sets. This is the same look she wore when confronting Cleo’s catnapper. She’s silent for several seconds before she says, “Sorry. I was at a wedding. I take it you found something?”

---