Page 285 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

He hadn’t opened the drawer to see them. He was basing that assumption on memory. Unless Maisie had used the remaining packages since he’d last been there. The jealousy that raced through his blood at that thought caught him off guard. He wasn’t usually the jealous type.

He paused in the doorway, bracing himself for the flood of memories. If Iris hadn’t been behind him, he might have given himself a moment, but she had to be wondering how he knew Maisie’s dogs and why he seemed so familiar with her house. He didn’t want her to realize he’d spent some quality time in her bedroom.

And quality time it had been.

Maisie glanced around the room in dismay. “Sorry. I guess I hadn’t considered this part. Maybe we should reschedule. It’s not supposed to rain or anything, so the boxes should be fine outside.”

Iris rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dumb. We’ll just strip your bed, stack your clothes on the closet floor, and grab a bag for the stuff in the nightstand drawers.” She walked over to the nightstand closest to the hallway door. “Do you want me to get started on that one?”

“No!” Maisie and Jack cried out at once.

Iris’s eyes narrowed as she glanced between them. “Okay…”

Shit.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “How about I go down and move the living room furniture around to make room for this stuff? Then I can unbox the new stuff out on the lawn.”

“Yeah,” Maisie said. “Good idea.”

As he headed down the stairs, he heard Iris ask Maisie, “What’s the big deal? Do you have sex toys in there? I’ve seen a vibrator, you know.”

Jack didnotwant to think about how she could have seen sex toys. They’d likely belonged to Genevieve. Or maybe a friend. He wasn’t sure which to hope for.

It didn’t take him very long to move the living room furniture, and he used a pocketknife he kept in the glove compartment of his car to start unboxing the new stuff. Mary—or more likely, Molly—had good taste. The pieces were real wood, not the MDF stuff a lot of newer furniture was constructed from, and the finish fit with the farm-style look that was so popular.

He’d unboxed the headboard and dresser and started on one of the nightstands when Iris appeared in the doorway, the dogs at her feet.

“Maisie says she’s ready to bring stuff down.”

“Okay.” He pocketed his knife and followed her upstairs, prepared for strange looks or a minor interrogation from his sister. Instead, she bounded up the stairs with more energy than she’d shown since moving to Asheville.

They started with the bed—the mattress and box spring, then the metal bed frame and headboard. After they got it down the stairs, Maisie headed to the front door to see what had been in the boxes, but Iris stopped her.

“No! It’s like a makeover. We have to do a big reveal.”

An amused grin lit up Maisie’s face. “Are you in cahoots with my sisters?”

“No,” Iris said. “I’ve just always thought that would be fun.”

Jack tucked that thought away. Iris hadn’t wanted to decorate her room in the Buchanan house, but maybe Adalia could help him and they could do a big reveal.

Or Maisie.

Iris was becoming attached to her, much more so than Adalia, so maybe that would be better. Or maybe he was just looking for an excuse to justify spending time with her.

“Okay, then,” Maisie said. “I won’t look, but I’m not sure you’ll be able to help Jack get it all upstairs.”

Iris propped her hands on her hips. “I’m stronger than I look.”

Maisie laughed. “We’ll see about that.”

The dresser was harder to get down than the bed. It was a two-person job, and Maisie insisted on being the other person, saying Iris had her work cut out for her with the new furniture. They managed to get it down without crushing Jack (who held the bottom end) or putting a dent in the wall. They had gotten one of the nightstands down when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Iris shouted from the bedroom, which she’d been casing like an interior decorator. She raced down the stairs.

“I have to pay for it,” Maisie insisted, but Jack had already gotten out his wallet, and he handed Iris cash as she brushed past him. They’d perfected that dance over many years of takeout.

“You can get it next time,” Jack said, trying not to dwell on the possibility of a next time. “Let’s get the other nightstand.”

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