Page 295 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“I still think you should tell Georgie.”

He was silent for a second, then said, “I’ll think about it. But I know she has this hope he’ll come and be a real dad for once. And I really, really don’t want to crush that.”

“Oh, River, that hope is already dead.” Because she knew a thing or two about hopes like that—the kind that were dead in the water. Harboring them only made a person bitter and lonely.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Thanks, Maisie. How’s the bachelor party planning going?”

“If you think I’m going to tell you anything now, just because you sound all forlorn, you have another think coming. But look, I need to run. Jack and Iris and I are doing a Christmas photo shoot for the shelter.”

“Huh,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “I have fond memories in that Santa coat.”

“Yeah, you tell that to Jack,” she muttered. “He refused to put it on. Speaking of which, I’ve got to go check on them.”

A crash sounded from the other room, and she blurted out, “Gotta go. Bye!” and hung up.

Stuffing her phone in her pocket, she darted to the door and opened it. But she didn’t need to check out the playroom to see what had happened—Ruby was darting through the hallway with the old Santa jacket gripped in her jaws like it was a chew toy, and Jack was racing after her, the fluffy white throw from thechair wrapped around his muscular shoulders in an attempt to hide his chest that only brought more attention to it.

Iris stood in the doorway of the playroom, a smile twitching on her lips as she watched him go.

“Did you get a good shot?” Maisie asked as she ran by.

“Perfect,” Iris called after her, iPhone gripped in her hand.

Dustin had gotten in on the action up front, and he and Jack were trying to corral Ruby between them. The Santa jacket had lost several tufts of fake fur now, and it looked like what it was—a ratty old bit of red cloth.

When had it become so moth-eaten?

By the time she reached them, Jack had already pacified Ruby, and he was crouched on the ground hugging her, his perfect arms wrapped around her. Maisie motioned urgently to Iris, who still held her phone.

Then Beatrice’s new protégé—really, had she needed to shareallof the financial info?—crept up on him like a nature photographer approaching a lion in the wild and got several shots of Jack comforting Ruby. And Maisie knew that whatever photos Iris had gotten before, these were better. This was the Jack she’d been so enchanted by the night of Dottie’s party.

He looked up, and he must have noticed the expression in her eyes, because she saw an answering gleam in his before he turned his attention back to his sister.

“Oh, come on. I don’t need my own paparazzi.” But she could tell he was pleased with Iris’s mood—almost giddy—and the quickness with which she was moved to laughter.

Whatever funk Iris had been in was lifting. She’d made good on her offer to help Maisie find bedding for her newly redesigned bedroom, although she’d laughed off the design suggestions Maisie had made in return, calling them too old-fashioned, to which Maisie had replied that she’d spent her life in a house decorated by two boomers. Dustin, who’d stopped trying to helpand was watching everything as avidly as if it were a Lifetime movie, snapped to it and said, “Here, let me get Ruby back to her kennel and get the next dog.”

Jack got up, Ruby’s collar in hand, and passed her over to Dustin.

Dustin’s gaze shot to the Santa coat, which Ruby had dropped to the floor. “Was thattheSanta coat?”

“Yup,” Maisie said, trying not to feel a pang. It really was a mess. Now it was covered in dog slobber, plus the missing patches of white fluff made it look like it had mange.

“Huh. I think I forgot to clean it last year after my Danish fell apart on it. Maybe Ruby smelled the cheese. They say hound dogs have a good enough sense of smell to detect a scent from ten miles away.”

Jack gave her a sharp-eyed look as if to say,I told you so, and suddenly she was laughing so hard she doubled over with it. Then Jack started laughing too, his eyes sparkling.

“You guys are nuts,” Iris said, but she snapped a picture of them on her phone anyway.

Dustin started whistling “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” and headed off to get Ruby squared away. But there was no missing his smile either.

“Do you want me to throw that away?” Iris asked, nodding toward the ruined coat.

It itched in Maisie’s throat to say no, toshoutit, but the response wasn’t rational, and she remembered the freedom she’d felt after letting go of a few other things. The casserole dish. The old furniture she’d had in her room since she’d picked it out at sixteen with her mother. A box of old kitchen things she’d quietly donated to a women’s shelter last week.

Part of her felt guilty for feeling good about those things, but she’d told Molly about it, and her sister had said,They’re justthings, Maisie. Mom would have told you that. People don’t live in things. They live in us.

“Yeah,” she said through a throat suddenly clogged with emotion. “Yeah, you can throw it away.”

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