Page 223 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“That’s a good idea,” she says, her eyes soft. “But what about inviting him to dinner?”

My breath catches.

“It’s just…I hate the idea of Roger being alone,” she says. “Do you think he’d be open to coming over?” Her smile widens. “Half of Asheville will already be there. I know there’s space for one more.”

Her sister Maisie is hosting dinner for all of the O’Shea sisters and their partners, plus her husband Jack’s family. Dottiewill be there too, apparently, which means both Mary and I will steer clear of any red food. Mary’s worried it’ll be too much for Aidan, and honestly, I am too, but he’s adamant about going, and Maisie promised that she and Jack have a plan for making sure a good time is had by all.

One of Roger’s defining characteristics is that he loves to talk. He’s just run out of people to talk to, other than me and Mrs. Rosa.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yeah. I think he’d really like that.”

Her fingers squeeze mine. “Good. It’s settled.” Then she sobers. “Have you decided how to approach Amanda?”

Dennis has gathered even more evidence of Lester’s crimes, both against Hagan Construction and others. Mary was right—this really is bigger than me and my family. It’s too big to sit on, and Mary and I have made an appointment to present the information to the state attorney general after Christmas. Given her role, Amanda’s sure to get caught in the crossfire.

“I’ve been thinking about going to see her. To warn her.”

Mary’s lips purse. “There might be another way to handle this,” she says carefully.

“I’m listening.”

“Sydney is a small town, and Dennis says your parents were highly respected. How worried will she be about her reputation?”

It takes a moment for her words to sink in. “Uh.” I sit up straighter. “Very. She was embarrassed when I went to prison.” I draw in a breath, seeing everything in a new light. “Or at least that’s what she claimed.”

My mind is racing now, dread rising as I try to make sense of my sister’s actions all those years ago. “Do you have any proof she was part of my arrest or sentencing?” Our relationshiphas been adversarial since Dad’s death, but would she really do something like that?

“No. Just that she fed him information.”

I think about it some more, relieved that I can’t make it square. “I don’t think she liked that I was sent to prison. I doubt she would have helped make it happen.”

“At least knowingly,” Mary says. She looks me in the eyes. “Do you think you can repair your relationship with her?”

“It would be hard, but I’d be willing to try for Ben’s sake,” I say. “I doubt she’d say the same.”

“That’s what I thought.” She folds her hands on the table. “My plan is foryouto tell her what you have on her and Lester. If she still insists on keeping you out of Ben’s life, then it’s time to play hardball. You can insinuate that Lester’s not the only one who’s going to have his secrets made public, but you might feel less chatty if she lets you have visitation with Ben.”

I stare at her in surprise, then grin. “I think you just suggested blackmail, Mary O’Shea.”

“Technically, it’s extortion,” she says with a wicked gleam in her eyes, “so that’s why you need to let her be the one to make the offer. And we’ll draw up a contract to hold her to it.”

My heart is heavy over Amanda’s betrayal, but I’m not all that surprised. She’s always been an opportunist. Which is exactly why I suspect she’ll go for the deal. But I can’t let myself get too excited about Ben just yet. I don’t think I can deal with any more disappointment on that front.

The waiter passes our table, and I motion for him to bring the check. “You’re turning into a bad girl,” I tease as the waiter hurries off.

She leans closer, her eyes dancing. “What can I say? You’ve been averybad influence.”

Weeks ago, she wouldn’t have been laughing like this. She would have been scandalized. My cock springs to life.

“How about I take you home and try to corrupt you even more after Aidan goes to bed?”

She laughs. “Maybe I can extort you into helping me wrap the last of my Christmas gifts first.”

My gaze drops to the V-neck of her dress—the one she barely wore to Nicole’s wedding—showing the barest hint of cleavage.

“I think I’d rather unwrap your dress,” I murmur.

She blushes, but she doesn’t look like she wants to crawl under the table. I consider that a win.

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