Page 218 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“Exactly,” I insist. “It’s all out there in the papers, and shestillhad me investigated.”

“But why?” Mrs. Rosa presses.

“Who knows,” I say, pouring water into the bottle. “I guess to see if my background checked out.”

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense,” she argues. “She found your arrest record the day you told her about your past, and ifRogermanaged to find articles about Lester, I’m certain she could do the same. So why hire an investigator? The records wouldn’t lie, would they?”

“No,” I say distractedly, “I don’t see how they could, unless someone with expert tech skills hacked the system and changed them.”

“Couldn’t you hire someone on craigslist to do that?” Roger asks.

“Of course not,” Mrs. Rosa says in a know-it-all tone. “That sounds more like a job you’d post on Indeed.”

What the hell are they going on about?

“Who, other than me, would hire someone to change the official record? I’m the only one who’d have a reason to, and I don’t have that kind of money.” I hold up my hand, anticipating more questions about a possible hack job. “But I wouldn’t do it regardless. I’ve got no reason to hide my past.”

“But people still discriminate against you,” Mrs. Rosa says, her eyes soft with compassion.

“I committed a crime,” I say matter-of-factly. “There’s no hiding from that. I own up to what I did.”

Mrs. Rosa starts to say something, then stops, then starts again, “So what was she looking for?”

I draw in a deep breath, hold it in my lungs for two seconds, then release it. “She said she did it to help. She claims the investigator found something that could convince my sister to let me back into Ben’s life.”

“And that upset you?” she asks. “That she was trying to help you spend time with your nephew?”

“She sounds like an outright bitch,” Roger mumbles.

I suspect he’s being sarcastic, but the need to defend Mary fills my chest. “Don’t say that,” I say without heat. “She’s not a bitch.”

Mrs. Rosa leans forward. “Then what exactly has you so upset, Jace?”

I rest my hand on the kitchen counter and wrap my fingers around the edge. “As stupid as it seems, I feel…”

“Violated,” she finishes quietly.

That descriptor makes more sense for women and children who have been abused, not a six-foot-three man with sixteen-inch biceps, yet it seems to fit. And the thought is unsettling.

“What if she was genuinely trying to help you get Ben back into your life?” Mrs. Rosa asks.

“She spentmoney, Mrs. Rosa, and it couldn’t have been cheap. Hundreds of dollars, if not more. Why would she spend that much money to help me? She must’ve wanted to verify my story too. There’s no way that didn’t figure into it.”

Mrs. Rosa and Roger exchange a long look, and a weird, almost panicky feeling steals over me. It’s obvious they don’t agree with my assessment of the situation. Did I fuck up?

Mary was adamant that this had nothing to do with distrust, but I’m so used to being the person who gets side-eye looks. So accustomed to being accused.

“I know you’re a proud man,” Mrs. Rosa says softly, “but what if it was a Christmas gift? What if, instead of buying you a bottle of Old Spice cologne, she was trying to get you something more meaningful? Something she knows you want more than anything in the world?”

I know she’s referring to Ben, but it dawns on me that he isn’t the only person I want in my life. That panicky feeling tightens around me. “My sister’s not going to change her mind.”

“But Mary doesn’t know that.” She gets up and walks over to me. “Your Mary’s a doer.”

“What?”

“She sees things that need to be done, and she gets to work. Look at how she took charge of the search for Cleo. She wants to fix things for you and Ben. So she went about it the only way she knows how.”

“By having me investigated?”

---