“Sorry, guys,” Tom Delanoy said, stamping his feet just inside the doorway, trying to rid his boots of the thick snowflakes that clung stubbornly to them like packing peanuts. “Looks like we’re stuck here for the duration.”

“The duration?” Diana Lynch asked. “What does that mean?”

Tom shrugged off his damp overcoat and laid it across the bank of seats in front of him. “Until the roads are cleared enough that we can safely drive back to the lodge? Until air traffic control clears the jet to take off? I’m not sure. It’s pretty bad out there.”

There was a collective groan from the group of friends known as the Bob-Whites of the Glen. The last time they had been to Mead’s Mountain (sans Dan Mangan) they had come after a rushed Christmas with their families. They thought they were being smart this time by visiting the Vermont ski lodge before Christmas. They had trickled into Groverville over the past week, in singles and pairs, as they concluded finals at their respective colleges, looking forward to a few days of relaxation and outdoor fun before heading to Sleepyside for a full week of family togetherness over the Christmas and New Year’s holidays. The relaxation and fun had definitely been had. But now they were snowed in at the tiny regional airport with no way to get to Sleepyside and no way to get back to the lodge.

“What about Miss Trask?” Honey Wheeler asked. She was nineteen years old and no longer needed a chaperone, but the kindly woman who had become the Wheelers’ estate manager when Honey had grown too old for a governess was still a dear friend to her.

Tom smiled at Honey. “I’ll call her and let her know I won’t be able to come get her. I’m sure they’ll let her stay another day or so under the circumstances.” Tom and his wife Celia had driven Honey and Miss Trask up to Mead’s Mountain, but Miss Trask had only stayed the one night, keeping Honey company until the other Bob-Whites started to arrive. Tom had driven her on to New Hampshire the next day, where she had spent a quiet week at a resort and spa in the White Mountains.

“Miss Trask will be fine in New Hampshire,” Jim said, throwing an arm around his sister and giving her a reassuring squeeze. “And we’ll be fine because we’re all together. And Mrs. Delanoy will be fine at the lodge,” he added, his emerald eyes twinkling mischievously at Tom. “But I’m not so sure Mr. Delanoy is ever going to live this down. Imagine being separated from your wife on Christmas Eve.”

“Not just his wife,” put in Brian, the oldest of the three Belden Bob-Whites. “His wife and child,” he concluded, emphasizing the Delanoy-to-be with an exaggerated rounding gesture in front of his stomach.

Tom grinned ruefully and ran one hand through his dark, curly hair. “She’s not that pregnant, Dr. Belden. She’s not due until the end of February.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” snickered Brian’s younger brother Mart, as fair as his brother was dark. “Maybe this will make her forget about when you took her hunting on your honeymoon. It’ll give her something different to rag you about.”

Everybody laughed, for tiny Celia Delanoy (or not so tiny, depending on the angle from which you were looking at her), who only barely came up to her husband’s shoulder when she had high heels on, was anything but a shrewish wife. She was sweet and even-tempered and not prone to nagging. And yet there was no question that she ruled the Delanoy household. An iron fist in a velvet glove.

“If Mart’s already starting in on his corny jokes, I’m going back to the lodge, blizzard or no blizzard. Anybody got any snowshoes?” Trixie Belden, Mart’s “almost twin”, on account of being born exactly eleven months after him, dumped an armful of snacks on the nearest empty seat. Dan Mangan, his arms even more full, added his stash to hers.

“One of everything,” he said. “I’m officially out of change. But that ought to hold us over until we can get out of here.”

Trixie snorted. “It’ll hold Mart over. Maybe.”

Mart tried to look offended, but he had already opened one of the bags and was caught red-handed. Literally. “Anybody else want the ketchup chips?”

Honey wrinkled her pretty nose. “No, thank you. They must be an acquired taste.” She picked up an Almond Joy bar and sighed unhappily. “Goodbye, Christmas Eve feast.”

“You know, it could be worse,” Brian said, snagging a bag of pretzels from the chair and leaning back in his seat, crossing his feet at his ankles.

“How could it be?” Mart asked. “We’re snowed in at the airport with no way to get home or back to the lodge. They only food we have is what we can get from the vending machine and that will be wiped clean in no time with the amount of people that are stuck here.”

“This is much better than when we were stuck in the car in a snowstorm right before Christmas,” Brian said.

“That never happened,” Mart argued.

“I don’t remember that,” Trixie said at the same time.

“It did,” Brian countered. “And you don’t remember, Trix, because you were only about two years old.”

“Why were you out in a snowstorm?” Jim asked.

“It wasn’t by choice,” Brian said. “Dad had gone into the city the previous day for a holiday party hosted by the bank’s parent company. He spent the night and Moms was to pick Dad up at the train station the next day. No one could watch us since they were all busy with their own family events, so we were all bundled in the car for the trip to the station.”

“They only had one car?” Honey asked, pulling her knees up underneath her as she looked at the eldest Belden.

“Dad’s car had gone into the shop.”

“Sorry for interrupting,” Honey said, gesturing for Brian to continue.

“So, we headed for home once Dad arrived. The snowfall was picking up. Moms and Dad were whispering in the front seat about the weather, but I could hear them.” He took a breath. “Suddenly the car swerved and we ended up in a snowbank.”

“Oh, no,” Di said.

“The only sound in the car was the carol ‘White Christmas’ coming from the radio,” Brian said. “It sure was a white Christmas that year.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Jim asked, glancing at each of the Beldens in turn, trying to see if he could spot a scar that might have remained from that incident.

“No, just startled,” Brian said. “We all sat there for a moment taking in what happened. Dad tried to get the car out of the drift, but we were stuck. He didn’t want to walk for help, as there were near white-out conditions and he knew it wouldn’t be safe. Staying together was the better option.”

“That must have been scary,” Di said.

“Moms and Dad climbed in the back seat with us and we huddled together to keep warm until help arrived,” Brian recalled. “When the tow truck got there, we were transported back to the shop so that the car could be looked over for the rest of the trip home. While we were there, the employees offered us some of the food they had prepared to have their own little holiday party. We got to eat roast beef and mashed potatoes. It was so much fun and they were so kind to us.”

“I can’t believe you remember that,” Di said.

“That’s the first Christmas I really remember,” Brian said. “I think that was the first time I got to see thoughtfulness from someone other than the family.”

“That shows the true kindness of strangers,” Honey said. “You always hope there are more people around that have that in their hearts.”

A quietness fell around them as each of the Bob-Whites contemplated the Christmas spirit and how they had both given and received good will at the holidays.

“I think Dan has a story to share,” Diana said tentatively. She and Dan were the quieter members of the group, which often made them more aware of one another and the feelings they often kept suppressed.

Dan offered a lazy half-grin and nodded at the violet-eyed beauty. “I was just remembering my best Christmas. I was eight. It was before Ma got sick. And Dad was still alive, though we didn’t see much of him. He was in the Army, you see, and was stationed overseas most of the time. Neither he nor Ma talked about it a lot and it wasn’t until I was older that I figured out what he did and why we couldn’t live where he was.”

“What did he do?” asked Brian. His sister wasn’t the only curious Belden.

“He was an explosives specialist. Mostly finding and safely defusing landmines and other planted bombs.”

“Your mother must have been sick with worry all the time,” Honey said, her hazel eyes misting over with tears.

“If she was, she never showed it, at least not in front of me,” Dan replied. “But I think Dad knew how worried she was. So he would send letters faithfully. We got one nearly every week, and sometimes two. They always made Ma happy. Except for the one we got before Christmas that year...”

Danny Mangan hurried up the block as fast as he could through the ankle-high snow to the little house on the end that he shared with his Ma. And Dad when he was around. They hadn’t seen him for months and Danny missed him terribly. He stomped up the stairs to the porch, dislodging as much snow from his boots as he could. Then he pushed open the front door and called out, “Ma! I’m home!” He dropped his school books on the floor and sat down beside them so he could tug off his boots. They were secondhand, a dull mud brown. He was going to ask Santa for cooler boots, bright red or yellow, or with a superhero design like Evan and Ethan had. They were twins in his class at school and they had Superman and Spiderman boots in bright red and blue that were the envy of the entire third grade. Sometimes Evan wore Superman and Ethan wore Spiderman. Sometimes they switched. And sometimes they each wore one of each so that they both got to wear Superman and Spiderman, but on opposite feet.

Finally getting the second, more stubborn boot off his foot, Danny went into the living room where his mother was curled up on the couch under a blanket, holding an unopened letter in her hand. She smiled at him. “Letter from Dad. I’ve been waiting for you to get home before I opened it.”

Danny sat on the couch and snuggled under the blanket, leaning against his mother as she opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. She unfolded the single sheet of paper and began to read. “My dearest Sarah and Danny, I’m sorry this letter will be short. My job here is finished and they’ll be moving me on soon. Korea, I think. Everything went well here and the guys I was working with were good men. We also worked with a lot of the locals. The people here are predominantly Muslim—”

“What’s that?” Danny interrupted.

His mother paused in her reading to explain. “It’s a religion. Like we’re Catholic, or your friend Benji is Jewish.”

“Oh.”

His mother returned to the letter. “The people here are predominantly Muslim, and their women are required to be covered from head to foot. The guys joke and say it’s because they’re so beautiful and exotic that their husbands are afraid the American soldiers will steal them away. But I know none of them could possibly be as beautiful as my Sarah. I’ll write as soon as I can when I get to my next assignment. I love you and miss you both. All my love, Tim.”

She folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope. She looked sad, and Danny knew why.

“Daddy won’t be home for Christmas, will he?” he asked in a small voice.

“It doesn’t sound like it.” She slowly folded the sheet of paper and tucked it back into the envelope. “Well, I’d better see to supper.” She extracted herself from her son and the crocheted blanket and stood, but not before Danny had seen the tears in her eyes.

“Are we still going to the Christmas party at church tonight?”

“If you want to, yes. But you have to finish your homework first.”

“I will,” Danny promised. He wanted to tell Santa what he wanted most for Christmas. And it wasn’t superhero boots.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Danny’s mother asked as they made their way toward their house. The walks had been shoveled, but a light snow was falling again, giving the sidewalks a thin coating of white that sparkled under the soft light of the street lamps.

“Yeah,” Danny replied. He and his mother had decorated cookies with the other families. Ma held a covered paper plate in her hand with the cookies they were bringing home. He held a bag with his Christmas gift from the church inside.

“You don’t sound like you had fun,” his mother said. “Don’t you like your new boots?”

Danny nodded. “They’re really cool. But…”

His mother stopped walking. Danny’s free hand was in hers, so he stopped, too. But he didn’t look up at her.

“But what?” she asked.

Danny shrugged. “I didn’t tell Santa I wanted new boots. How did he know?”

“Santa knows everything,” his mother replied. “You know that.”

Danny looked up at her. His dark eyes were shining, but not from the glow of the street lamps. “But if he gave me the boots, does that mean he won’t give me what I really asked for?”

“What did you ask for?”

Danny’s bottom lip trembled as he answered. “I asked him to bring Daddy home for Christmas.”

His ma sighed. She squatted down in front of Danny and cupped his chin in her hand. “Danny, I told you Daddy wouldn’t be coming home. He’s going to Korea. He would’ve told us if he was coming home.” She smiled at him. “Anyway, we’ll still celebrate Christmas when he does come home. Even if Christmas is in February or April or July.”

Danny smiled tentatively back. His mother’s smile was infectious. “Can we still have a Christmas tree?”

“I don’t see why not, since we have an artificial tree. We can decorate it with valentines or Easter eggs or firecrackers!”

Danny giggled. His mother stood up, took his hand, and they continued on their way home. Danny knew his mother was sad that Daddy wouldn’t be home for Christmas. But she wasn’t letting it show. She was pretending to be happy for him. So Danny decided he would be happy, too. For his ma. One last sigh escaped as he tried to focus on being happy. He thought Santa could do anything. Why couldn’t he send his Daddy home for Christmas?

“What on earth?” His mother’s steps slowed as they neared their house. Danny looked up at her. She didn’t look scared. Or sad. She looked sort of confused and happy all at once. And she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at their front porch.

As Danny turned to look that way, his mother dropped the plate of cookies to the sidewalk, let go of his hand, and began running toward the house. Danny could see somebody standing there, a figure half hidden in the shadows. Just as he figured out who it was and started running too, leaving the new boots behind with the cookies, he heard his mother cry out, “Tim! Oh, Tim!”

His mother was bigger than he was, but she had on high heels and Danny quickly caught up with her, so that when his daddy came down the stairs to meet them, they flung themselves into his arms simultaneously. His mother was crying. Tim kissed her so long, Danny was afraid he may have been forgotten. But then his daddy hugged him for as long as he had kissed his mother. “I missed you both so much,” Tim murmured, gathering them both close to him.

“I asked Santa to bring you home,” Danny babbled excitedly. “And he did!”

“That’s because Santa can do anything,” his father replied, smiling broadly.

“He certainly can,” his mother agreed. “He certainly can.”

Dan looked around at his fellow Bob-Whites. The girls weren’t the only ones with tears in their eyes. He gave a little shrug. “My best Christmas. And we celebrated Christmas whenever my father came home on leave, no matter what time of year it was. We’d decorate the tree with whatever the nearest holiday was, and decorate cookies to match.”

“Christmas is all about miracles,” Tom said. “And being with the people you love.”

“That’s true,” Di said, wiping under her eyes to force the tears to not fall.

“What are you thinking about, Di?” Honey asked, turning to face their raven-haired friend.

“I was thinking about the last Christmas when we were all squeezed into that small apartment,” Di answered, her eyes taking on a far-off look as she was transported back in time. “Momma and Daddy always made sure the holidays were special. Looking back, things were always tight and more times than not Momma and Daddy went without to make sure the five of us had what we needed. If Momma needed shoes but so did the twins, she’d make sure their feet were covered.”

“That’s what moms do,” Jim said. “They’ll put their children’s needs before their own time and time again.”

The rest of the Bob-Whites and Tom nodded in agreement, knowing they had seen that in their own lives.

“I didn’t know how tight things were until this one Christmas,” Di said.

Eleven-year-old Diana Lynch hurried along the snow-covered sidewalk, anxious to get home and share the news with her mother. Just before Thanksgiving there had been auditions for solos for the school’s holiday show. Now that it was December, the list had been posted and she had been given a prominent singing role when they sang “Angels We Have Heard on High.”

She was so excited to be selected. Eight members of the student body had been chosen and the teacher who was taking on the directing role for the show wanted the eight of them to wear white robes with matching wings and a gold cord wrapped around their waists as a belt. They each had to bring $20.00 to cover the cost of the costume.

Entering the house, she quickly slipped out of her boots and hung her coat on the hook by the door. Her excitement vanished when she passed the kitchen table and saw several bills on the placemat with “Past Due” stamped in red on the envelopes.

“How was your day, Di?” her mother called out from the living room.

Di moved through the small kitchen toward the sound of her young siblings playing. She took in the four of them on the floor with their mother, toys scattered about.

Di set her backpack on the couch so she could greet the little ones as they made their way toward her.

“It was good, Momma,” Di answered.

“Do you have a lot of homework?”

“Some,” Di said, sitting down beside her mother. “I can do it later when the twins are getting their baths if you need to go do something.”

“I just want to get dinner started,” her mother said, “if you could keep them entertained for a little bit.”

Di smiled. “I can do that.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Her mother kissed the side of her head before getting to her feet and disappearing into the kitchen.

Di turned her head to watch her brothers play with the blocks. The girls had Di’s old dolls in their hands. As she sat there, she gazed about the small apartment, taking in the decorations that had been added to mark the season. A small tree stood in the corner with a string of colored lights and a silver garland. An angel in white was perched on the highest branch. On the wall next to the tree were seven red stockings with white cuffs. Their names were stitched in silver.

Come Christmas morning there would be a lot of presents under the tree for the five children in the Lynch household and possibly only one or two for her parents from each other. Having seen the envelopes, she knew she couldn’t ask for money for a costume when bills were due. While it would have been nice to stand out in the production singing a solo, she couldn’t take money away from the others when there were more important things to use it for.

The next afternoon when classes were dismissed, Di made her way to the auditorium with a heavy heart, but she had thought through her decision. She didn’t like it, but family came first.

She made her way toward the stage where the others who had been selected to perform the song were already warming up for practice.

“Mr. Marshall?” Di asked, stepping up beside the piano.

“You’re just in time to rehearse, Di,” Mr. Marshall said happily. “We can run the song a couple of times before the late bus needs to leave.”

“I need to talk to you, Mr. Marshall.”

“We can do it after we rehearse,” Mr. Marshall said, ushering her up on stage.

Di let out a sigh as she was surrounded by the others and they ran the song. Mr. Marshall disappeared when they finished without talking to her.

As each day ticked away, getting closer and closer to the show, Di knew everyone was going to be angry with her for not speaking up sooner. She was going to be so out of place on stage when the others were in white robes and she was wearing her regular clothes.

Knowing she had been planning to back out of the performance, she had never told her family about having the solo.

It was finally the night of the show and Di paced backstage as the minutes dwindled. She saw Mr. Marshall and knew she had to tell him before they went on.

“Mr. Marshall, I don’t have a robe,” Di finally got out.

He stopped in front of her. “What? All the robes are hanging on the rack.”

“There isn’t one for me,” Di said. “I never brought the money in.” She looked at the floor. “We don’t have the money for it.” She lifted her tear-filled eyes to meet her teacher’s gaze. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Marshall. I should’ve tried harder to tell you. If I had, you could’ve found someone else to do the solo because they would’ve had the money for the costume.”

“It’s all right, Diana,” Mr. Marshall said, grabbing some tissues from the nearby table and handing them to her. “I didn’t ask you about the money for the costume because yours was all set.”

“How could it be all set?” Di asked, shocked. “No one ever got my measurements.”

“All I know is that your robe is with the others,” he said. “You just need to get ready to shine.”

Di stood there in disbelief. “Are you sure you don’t know how this happened?”

“This is the season of miracles,” Mr. Marshall said. “I think we should just accept that you are the recipient of a special gift so that you can take your place on stage and steal the show.”

“I will, Mr. Marshall. I won’t let you down.”

“I know.” He smiled at her. “Now, go get ready.”

“When I got to the robes, mine was right there with the others,” Di said.

“Did you ever find out how your robe got there or who took care of it for you?” Honey asked.

Di shook her head. “I never tried to figure it out. I took Mr. Marshall’s advice and just accepted the gesture. The kindness that I was shown has always made me want to pass it along.”

“Well, it would be a kindness to me, Ms. Lynch, if you’d pass me that bag of Skittles,” Tom joked, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

Everybody laughed, and Diana held up the bag of candy. “I will, on the condition that you tell us about your favorite Christmas.”

Tom nodded and held his hands out. Diana tossed him the bag. He ripped open a corner and poured out a few pieces of the fruit-flavored candy, thoughtfully chewing them while he contemplated a story to share. “The Christmas I was eight, I was just starting to clue into the fact that Santa wasn’t real.”

“What!?” Mart gasped, looking horrified. Brian rolled his eyes, but Diana giggled and nudged Mart in the ribs as he dropped his face to his hands, feigning devastation at Tom’s revelation.

Tom shook his head and chuckled. “I was the youngest in my family, with three older sisters and my brother Phil, who is about eighteen months older than me. My older sisters all pretended to believe, for my sake, and I think they might’ve beaten up Phil if he hadn’t played along. But, yeah, I still believed. I was a naïve little kid. Maybe not as naïve as Mart…” And everybody laughed. “So, I decided I needed to prove whether or not Santa was real, and I wrote him a letter asking him for something big. Something I hadn’t told anybody else about. I took it to the post office myself, bought a stamp, and mailed it. And then I waited.”

“What did you ask for?” Trixie asked curiously.

Tom took a sip of his soda and then continued on more thoughtfully. “There were five of us Delanoy kids. Mom didn’t work outside the home and Dad was a mechanic. Getting us all through college was going to be difficult. My oldest sister Meg wanted to go to a good university so she could get into law school later, but was afraid she’d end up in the community college because of money issues. She had applied for a number of scholarships, but the only one she had gotten probably would’ve covered her text books and not much else. So I asked Santa for … money.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if Santa would do that or not, but I explained to him that Meg needed the money for college and if there was anything he could do to make that happen then I didn’t even need any presents myself.”

“If only you’d been born a few years later, you could’ve been a Bob-White,” Brian commented with a smile. “That was very selfless of you.”

Tom smiled sheepishly. “I’m not sure how selfless it was, since I was basically trying to force Santa’s hand.”

“So what happened?” asked Dan.

“Well, Christmas came and went and there was no sack of cash with Meg’s name on it under the tree.” He shrugged. “I suppose I already knew Santa wasn’t real—sorry, Mart—so I was upset but not devastated. It was otherwise a good Christmas. And on New Year’s our friends from the next street over came to our house to celebrate. They had kids about the same ages as us Delanoy kids and we’d been friends for years. We always spent New Year’s Eve at one house or the other, stayed up all night, fixed a big breakfast the next morning. It was a blast.”

Trixie’s blue eyes gleamed with interest and amusement. “And your point is...?”

Tom winked. “Never could pull one over on you, Miss Belden. So, our friends came over and they had mail for Meg. It had accidentally been delivered to their house, because even though we were on different streets, we had the same house number, and their last name was Delaine. It happened from time to time; in fact, it’s how we became friends in the first place.”

“What was it?” Honey asked, smiling as if she already knew. “What was the mail Meg got?”

“A full four-year scholarship to her first choice college.”

“See!” Mart crowed. “Santa is real!”

Tom nodded. “When I told Meg about the letter I’d sent to Santa, she said something I’ve never forgotten. She said Santa was real as long I believed in him, as long I believed in magic. And I plan on teaching my kids that very thing.” He grinned. “That is, as long as Celia forgives me for leaving her alone at the lodge on Christmas Eve.”

“I’m certain Celia will forgive you,” Honey said. “It’s not like we have control of the weather.”

“I know,” Tom said. “But to be snuggled up with your loved one on Christmas Eve just makes the holiday perfect.”

“I know what you mean,” Mart said, scooting closer to Diana and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“Stop rubbing it in,” Dan said. “Just tell us what your favorite Christmas was, Mart.”

“Ahh, yes,” Mart said leaning back in the plastic chair as much as possible. “Settle in, kin folk, as I tell you a tale from yesteryear about my favorite Christmas.”

“Who wants to bet that this memory has to deal with food?” Jim asked with a grin.

“Every story he tells deals with food,” Brian said. “That’s always forefront on his mind.”

“Maybe this one doesn’t,” Mart protested.

“Everyone who thinks this story has to deal with food, raise your hand,” Dan said.

Eight hands went in the air and Mart gasped, “Di! How could you? Two votes?”

“I’m sorry, but we know you a little too well and your affinity for flavors cannot be questioned,” Di answered with a loving grin.

“We need some help here,” Trixie joked. “Di is starting to sound like him. We need to bring her back to the side of simplicity.”

“Stop teasing my love,” Mart said, pulling Di close as he tried to scowl angrily at his almost twin.

“All right,” Honey said. “Let’s give Mart the benefit of the doubt and see what he has in mind for his favorite.”

“Thank you, m’lady,” Mart said. “And this story is a favorite because of what occurred.” He glanced at the others sitting patiently with his gaze resting finally on Trixie. “Back when we were in school—I believe it was the second grade for me and first grade for Trixie—we were working on a holiday decoration in class that we would take home to display.”

“No!” Trixie cried out, her face turning beet red knowing which story Mart was about to share.

“This definitely doesn’t involve food,” Brian chuckled.

“Please, Mart. Don’t tell this,” Trixie begged.

“Sorry, my almost twin, but this is my favorite.”

“I hope you get coal in your stocking,” Trixie said through gritted teeth as she stood. She turned from the group and started to walk away but didn’t get more than three steps in before her hand was grabbed and she was settled onto something soft. She looked up to see she was sitting on Jim’s lap, her back to the others.

“It can’t be that bad,” Jim said, wrapping his arms around her.

“It’s mortifying,” Trixie whispered, ducking her head under Jim’s chin and hiding her face in his chest.

“As I was saying,” Mart said, raising his voice so everyone could hear. “We’ve all done those crafts when we were in school where we made something for each and every holiday. Well, for that year, we made wreaths out of our handprints. It was a lot of tracing and cutting with green paper, but in the end, it was really nice and Moms hung it on the refrigerator, like she did with everything we created. Well, someone was a bit upset that they were only cutting out stockings and wanted to make a wreath as well,” Mart snickered. “It had been quiet in the house and Moms suddenly noticed that one of her progeny was missing. She went searching and then we heard a yell.”

Brian started laughing.

“What happened?” Dan asked.

“Trixie had decided to make a wreath of her own,” Mart stated and then paused with dramatic effect. “Using all of Moms’ jewelry, including several earrings that belonged to Grandma Belden and Grandma Johnson.”

“Moms was upset that the jewelry was used and that Trixie had touched it without permission, but it looked really good,” Brian added.

“From that day on, Moms prohibited all of us from touching her jewelry box and had a lock placed on it,” Mart said. “Some of the more priceless items were moved to the bank where Dad was able to keep them from crafty hands.”

“That sounds like a sweet project,” Di said. “I could easily see the different necklaces, bracelets and earrings coming together in such a unique way.”

“It definitely sparkled,” Mart chuckled. “Especially with the glitter she added to it.”

“Oh, Trix,” Honey said.

“Mart better only have coal under the tree for this,” Trixie grumbled.

“You have to have something special to share regarding Mart and the holiday,” Jim suggested.

“I have been the epitome of a well-behaved young man at all times,” Mart said with a tone of superiority. “I have never done anything along the lines of what my fanatical sister has accomplished in all her years.”

Trixie lifted her head and looked at him. “Oh, really?”

“I am a gentleman through and through,” Mart said.

Trixie turned in her seat to face her brother, an evil grin slowly spreading across her face.

“This has to be good,” Dan said laughed.

“She has nothing,” Mart protested.

“It was Christmas break and Sleepyside had been socked with several feet of snow leading up to the holiday,” Trixie began, her eyes never leaving her brother’s face. “There was so much that Dad had three-foot-high piles all along each side of the driveway. A lot of the snow blew down from the Manor House and ended up in our yard. Every day of our break we spent outside, sledding down one of the drifts into the driveway, building snowmen, having snowball fights, and even building a fort.”

“You said you would never tell anyone about that,” Mart said, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Trixie’s smile grew. “It now makes you rethink telling that story about me when I told you not to.”

“Fine,” Mart said crossing his arms over his chest.

“What was so special about the fort?” Dan asked, his gaze darting between the two siblings to find out what was so secretive about it.

“We all worked really hard on it and Dad made sure that there was enough space inside for all three of us, even though some people thought others shouldn’t be allowed in there,” Trixie recalled. “Dad made sure that if it was built on the Belden property, any Belden could use it.”

“It must have been a big fort,” Jim concluded.

“It was giant,” Trixie said. “But as the sun began to set, we needed to head in for dinner, which consisted of leftovers from Christmas. Moms had let us be outside longer than she had planned because we were having so much fun. We went inside and removed our snowsuits and were given some hot chocolate with dinner to help warm us up. But it slipped past all of us that someone had not come in when we were called for dinner.”

All eyes spun to Mart who had leaned back in his chair and was staring at the ceiling, a slight pink filling his cheeks.

“It took a moment to realize how quiet the table was before Moms and Dad hurried out of the house calling for Mart,” Trixie continued. “They were scouring the farm trying to figure out where he had gone, as he had been protesting coming back in for dinner and wanted to spend more time outside. They finally found him sitting in the fort with a piece of ham in one hand and turkey in the other.” A twinkle filled Trixie’s eyes. “When he saw them, he asked if he should eat the ham or the turkey first.”

“I can’t believe you swiped food and went to eat in your fort,” Dan laughed.

“Moms said we had to be hungry from playing, but I wasn’t done playing and I figured I could eat and play at the same time,” Mart argued. “I’ve always been good at multi-tasking.”

“Moms always made a habit during the winter that any snacks she had prepared for us were put far enough away from the door to make certain Mart would actually get in the house and out of his clothes before he could snag some,” Brian said, chuckling.

“I could’ve stayed in that fort for even longer,” Mart said. “It was built perfectly and you really didn’t feel the cold. We never were able to build another one like that.”

Honey smiled wistfully. “That’s what I always wanted growing up.”

“What? A snow fort?” Brian teased, bumping his shoulder against hers.

“No, a real family Christmas. Until Jim came along, I never had any brothers or sisters to play with, or even bicker with.”

Jim laughed. Abandoning Trixie, he moved to the seat next to his full-blooded adopted sister and put an arm around her. “If you want me to pick more fights with you, sis, I’ll be happy to do so.”

“Uh-oh,” Trixie said. “Now you’ve done it, Honey.”

“So, your favorite Christmas memory is from recently then?” Dan asked. “We’ve had all these little kid memories so far.”

“Well…” Honey hedged. “I’m sort of embarrassed to say what’s been on my mind.”

“Come on, Honey,” Tom urged. “If Mart and Trixie can lay their silly stories out for all of us to hear, you can too. It can’t be worse than theirs, right?”

Trixie fondly punched Tom in the arm, but added, “He’s right, Honey. Tell us your favorite Christmas.”

“The thing is…” Honey bit her lip for a moment, then blurted, “It wasn’t my favorite Christmas at all! It was an awful Christmas! And I know how ridiculous that sounds, because Jim and Dan had Christmases without their parents, and Di’s family was so poor…”

Trixie interrupted, “And the Beldens had Mart.”

Everybody laughed, even Honey, which dispelled the awkwardness of the moment.

“Go ahead,” Trixie said, “Tell us your story, anyway, Honey.”

“Well, it was that first Christmas we were here in Sleepyside. Only, instead of Christmas at home, we were all in Arizona.”

Diana looked hurt. “That was your worst Christmas ever?”

“Oh, no,” Honey assured her quickly. “It was so much fun on your uncle’s ranch. Between working and having fun and solving mysteries, I didn’t have time to get homesick or think about the fact that I was missing Christmas with Mother and Daddy. And they promised we’d have a family Christmas when we got back.”

“And we did,” Jim said, looking puzzled as he tried to remember what had been so awful about the Wheeler Christmas. “Mom and Dad had the house decorated in a sort of southwest Christmas theme. Santa had a burro instead of a reindeer, there were a couple of small potted cacti decorated like regular Christmas pine trees with lights and ornaments and a star on top. They even had Cook prepare things like tacos and enchiladas for our Christmas dinner.”

“And it was dreadful!” Honey burst out.

“Yeah, it sounds pretty awful,” Mart said with a roll of his eyes and an exaggerated shake of his empty potato chip bag.

“Hey, now, don’t pick on Honey,” Brian said sternly, though there was a twinkle of mischief in his dark eyes. “Remember that Christmas I accidentally ripped the dust jacket off my book while I was tearing off the wrapping? Worst Christmas ever.” He shook his head forlornly.

Honey smacked him on the leg. “Don’t tease.”

Trixie chuckled. “You wanted brothers and sisters to bicker with, right? Well, you’ve got six of us now. Suck it up, buttercup.”

Honey laughed, too, and shook her head. “Looking back, I know it wasn’t really that bad. I’ve had far worse Christmases. The worst ones were when I was alone. I stayed at boarding school or I only had my governess or other household staff to celebrate with because Mother and Daddy were traveling over the holidays. I really wanted a traditional Christmas with my traditional family. Turkey and mashed potatoes and that awful canned cranberry jelly. I wanted Jim and I to decorate the tree with strings of popcorn while Mother played Christmas carols on the piano and Daddy snuck little gifts into our stockings.” She sighed. “And there was nothing wrong with the southwest Christmas they planned for us. It just wasn’t … Christmas.”

Jim gave her a squeeze. “You never let on. We all thought you enjoyed it.”

Honey smiled sadly at him. “I didn’t want to spoil our first Christmas together. But when we went to bed I cried a little in my room. I guess I had been looking forward to that Christmas so much that it was a bit of a letdown when it finally came around. Mother and Daddy came by to say goodnight, but I tucked under the covers and pretended I was already asleep. We didn’t even leave out cookies and milk for Santa.”

“We were a little old for that, don’t you think?”

“Never!” Mart said adamantly.

“Anyway, that’s the Christmas I’m remembering right now,” Honey finished. “Which leaves you, Jim. Tell us about your favorite Christmas.”

Jim shook his head. “Well, now I don’t want to.”

“Why not?” Diana asked.

“Because it was that Christmas,” he replied with a broad grin. Honey dropped her face into her hands and groaned exaggeratedly. Jim laughed and patted her on the back. “I had spent the last few Christmases with only Jonesy and, frankly, it doesn’t get much worse than that—taco dinners and torn dust jackets aside. So that Christmas I got to spend with all of my friends, and all of my family. At least all the family I knew about at the time. Gosh, I sure hope we get out of here soon. I’m really looking forward to spending time with Hans and Juliana and Lukas.”

“This will be his first Christmas,” Honey said, cheering up at the prospect of visiting with Jim’s cousin and her husband and six-month-old son. “Oh, a baby’s first Christmas is so magical. I’m so glad they’ll be spending it with us this year.”

“Enjoying that will have to wait as we’re still snowed in,” came a familiar voice.

They all turned to see Margery Trask slowly making her way toward them.

“You’re here!” Honey exclaimed, relieved that her former governess was safe.

“I am,” she said as she limped toward the group.

“You’re hurt!” Tom exclaimed, scrambling to his feet with Brian and Jim.

Margery accepted the arms of Tom and Jim before settling into one of the plastic chairs with a sigh of relief.

“What happened?” Honey asked, her eyes full of worry as Brian knelt in front of her and carefully started untying the laces on her left boot.

“The cab that picked me up at the spa got stuck nearby after slipping on some black ice,” Margery explained. “The driver called for assistance, but since neither of us were hurt and emergency personnel had been dispatched to a motor vehicle accident, we were going to have to wait.”

“It’s freezing out there,” Di said as Margery shivered slightly.

“Here,” Jim said, pulling his green sweater over his head and handing it to her. “This is the best we can do for now. Hopefully restaurant staff will be arriving soon and we can get you some coffee to help you warm up.”

“Thank you, Jim,” Margery said, sliding the sweater on before wrapping herself in her jacket again. “We were close enough that I knew I could make it in here, but even though the crews are out there trying to keep the walkways clear, it’s still slick and I slipped.”

“Ummm? Ms. Trask?” Di began.

“Yes?” she asked, turning to look at the raven-haired young woman.

“What is that?” Di asked, pointing toward the older woman’s feet where Brian had finally removed both boots and was gently checking her left ankle for injury.

The rest of the Bob-Whites and Tom looked to see Ms. Trask had a pair of fuzzy watermelon socks on her feet.

“Those are socks,” she said matter-of-factly.

“You have a pair of watermelon socks?” Dan asked, shocked.

“I didn’t until this week,” Margery said with a smile.

“I think you just have a sprain,” Brian said. “It’s probably best to keep it elevated and maybe get some ice on it. There are no bruises, just a little swelling.”

“I can live with just a sprain,” Margery said.

“So, how did you get those socks?” Trixie asked. “They look really soft and warm.”

“They are,” Margery said as the others took seats around her. “The resort and spa was a great place to relax. There were plenty of activities if you wanted to participate, like sleigh rides through the snow, horseback riding, caroling by the fire, games. You name it, they had the activity there. They also had a Secret Santa event where the guests, if they chose to participate, bought some fun items and placed them under the large Christmas tree in the dining room. They were just small things like holiday soaps, ornaments, even fuzzy socks.” She lifted her feet up so they could get a better look at the socks that were mostly pink with little spots of black to represent seeds and an almost lime green at the top.

“Everyone who participated was given a number and numbers had been placed on all the gifts under the tree. We received the gift that matched our number and I was the lucky recipient of these socks. I was grateful to get them because with how cold it is outside, these provided the extra warmth.”

“I think the socks helped protect you from a worse injury,” Brian said.

“I’m grateful for that,” Margery said. “And while it was nice to get away to the resort and spa, it’s nice being back with all of you. There’s something special about being together with those who mean a lot to you at Christmas.” She looked around at all of them. “This is probably not how you pictured the holiday.”

Trixie looked at the others and instead of seeing anger or unhappiness, they were all smiling because Margery Trask was right. This was what Christmas was all about.

“Merry Christmas!” Trixie said.

“Merry Christmas!” the others chorused.