The Christmas Visitor 
rated blue star

    “I hate Christmas!” twenty-six-year old Trixie Belden-Frayne declared, flinging herself onto the sofa, folding her arms and assuming an expression her brother, Bobby, at six, would have been proud of.
    “Well, we should probably cancel then,” Honey said calmly, dropping down beside her friend.
    Trixie’s scowl deepened. “You know we can’t do that. Imagine the fuss if I said Jim and I wouldn’t host Christmas lunch, after all.”
    “Oh, that.” Honey waved her hand airily. “I didn’t mean cancel the Christmas lunch. I meant cancel Christmas altogether, seeing that you hate it so much.”
    “Funny,” Trixie sniffed. “Even you Wheelers don’t have that much money.” 
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Honey mused. “We are very rich, you know. I’m sure I could send a memo or issue a decree of some sort.”
    Trixie couldn’t help it. Her lips twitched, her blue eyes twinkled and she guffawed, quite inelegantly. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded, slapping Honey’s arm. “You’re supposed to be my best friend, not comic relief.”
    “I can’t be both?” Honey asked innocently.
    “Not according to the BWG by-laws.” Trixie returned.
    “Must have missed that one,” Honey said. She smiled at her friend and reached for one of Trixie’s sturdy hands. “Your Christmas lunch is going to be a huge success. You and Jim have made a beautiful home here, and we are all going to have a fabulous time.”
    “Can I get that in writing?” Trixie queried brightly.  “Maybe I can mail it to Aunt Alicia.”
    Honey smiled sympathetically. “You know it is fine for her to stay with Brian and me instead of here.”
    “That I couldn’t do to you,” Trixie said. “I love you too much.”
    “We really wouldn’t mind. And for the most part, she does approve of Brian.”
    “See, that remark alone says it all,” Trixie sighed. “How could anyone approve of my paragon eldest brother, ‘for the most part’? Brian rates very highly on any normal person’s approval scale.”
    “You know what I mean. Or though I do happen to agree with you on Brian’s approvability, if that’s a word?”
    “You and Brian have only been married for three months and in your place for seven weeks. I couldn’t do it to you.”
    “Why don’t I pour us some coffee and grab a couple of those muffins moms sent over?” Honey rose from the sofa.
    “Good idea,” Trixie said. “However, the very fact that in order to get refreshments in my house, you have to serve them yourself is probably a sign of disasters to come.”
    “Probably just a sign that I don’t know my place anymore,” Honey quipped and headed for the kitchen.


    “I know I should just stop worrying about it,” Trixie said, blue eyes cloudy, as that evening, she filled her husband’s plate with a generous serve of macaroni and cheese. “But if it weren’t for Dad surprising Moms with a new paint job at the farm and that being delayed, so that it won’t be ready when they get back from the trip, meaning that they and Bobby will be using Mart and Di’s guest rooms, then we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
    Being a good husband, Jim didn’t point out that he already knew this. His Trixie was not normally one to worry and fret, and he hated to see her doubt herself. They had been married for almost eighteen months, but this was their first Christmas in their newly built home at Ten Acres and they both wanted it to be special. As far as Jim was concerned, just waking up next to Trixie each morning made his life special.
    Jim added salad to the plate his wife handed him and smiled at her reassuringly. “It will all be fine,” he insisted. “We’ll be surrounded by our family and friends, all of whom love us and love our home. Aunt Alicia will probably love it too.”
    Trixie shot him a look and he gave a rueful grin and a shrug of his broad shoulders. “Okay, so maybe love is exaggerating a little. But, Trix, she’s not that bad. She seemed to enjoy our wedding well enough and she was fine at Honey’s and Brian’s.”
    “I know that,” Trixie said. “But this is different. This is having her here, as our guest, watching how I run our home, judging all of my shortcomings.”
    “Well, as you have none that I can see, she won’t have much to judge,” Jim observed.
    “Is it a nice delusion you’re having over there?” Trixie smiled lovingly at him.
    “I’ll have you know that my opinion is widely respected,” Jim admonished.  “It’s not nice to criticise your husband and poke fun at him.”
    “Darn.” Trixie forked some mac and cheese and chewed appreciatively, but her blue eyes held their usual sparkle now.  “I knew I should have read all that couple stuff more carefully.”
    “Honestly, Trix, if it’s going to ruin Christmas for you, Mother had already offered to have her at the Manor House. Even Aunt Alicia couldn’t possibly complain about the service there.”
    “Wanna bet?” Trixie shook her curls. “No. Honey offered that, too, but she and Brian have literally just moved into their place and besides, Aunt Alicia is my family and my responsibility.
    “Hey!” Jim protested. “We’re all one family now, aren’t we? And your aunt is just as much Brian’s aunt as she is yours, even if you don’t agree with the first part of my statement, though I know you do, because the BWGs were always family, even before the weddings, and…” Jim trailed off. “I have had way too much exposure to my sister.” 
    Trixie laughed. “We all have, thank goodness. And of course, you’re right, we are all one family. Honey said the same thing earlier today. Though, to be fair, she didn’t ramble as much as you just did.”
    “Cute.”
    “I should be used to this by now. Moms and Dad have had this conversation so many times over the years that sometimes we forget whose side of the family she’s actually from.”
 Jim leaned across the table to tug on his curl. “So, whatever happens, we’re in this together, right?”
    “Right,” Trixie agreed, and the two turned their attention to their delicious dinner.


    Jim’s dream school was still some way from being a reality, though construction had begun, all of the plans were completed.  Some items had been acquired and were currently being stored on what would become the stables. In the meantime, Jim was teaching at a nearby high school in White Plains, having already completed a two-year stint in the Bronx, working with disadvantaged and troubled teens. Throughout the first year of their marriage, Trixie and Jim had lived in an apartment on the outskirts of Westchester County, enabling both of them to commute to their respective jobs with relative ease. 
    When it came to building a home, Jim had resisted offers of help from his parents, insisting he and Trixie needed to pay for it themselves. The result was a simple yet charming frame farmhouse, painted a soft gray with yellow trim, with two stories, wide porches and a lovely outlook.  Once construction had been completed and the bathrooms and kitchen fitted, all of the Bob-Whites had rolled up their sleeves and painted and decorated, leaving the young couple with a comfortable, welcoming space.
    After dinner and the dishes, the two took their coffee and freshly baked cake into the den where a fire burned brightly.
    “I figured I’d get the lights up on the weekend,” Jim said. “Mart’s offered to come round and give me a hand.
    “And Dan offered to bring a tree,” Trixie said. “It’s a little earlier than usual but I feel an over whelming desire to be prepared.” 
    “Everyone will pitch in, Trixie. It’ll be fine.”
    “I know. Honey said she was giving us part of our Christmas present early. Apparently, she has some things to finish off the guest room, which is good, I guess, cause we were using it for storage.” She didn’t add that they already had a perfectly adequate guest room, but it was near their own and the idea of having Alicia that close didn’t bear thinking about.  The fact that this guest room was on the ground floor made it ideal. “It would be nice if it was Alicia-critical proof,” she added, “but I did tell her that she doesn’t have to help, Honey, I mean. But you know what she’s like.”
    “Do I!” Jim’s green eyes twinkled. “I learned that lesson when we first working on the plans for the school.”
    Trixie laughed, “Right. I wish I had a picture of your face that night.”    
    Jim nodded and smiled as he remembered a rare show of temper from his sister.


    “I just can’t seem to make them understand,” Jim said, accepting another beer from Brian and taking a seat next to his wife on the sofa.
“What exactly do you want them to understand?” Honey asked, turning from where she was clearing the dining table and facing her brother.
Jim frowned. “Well, that I want to do this myself, of course.”
    “Naturally,” Honey said. “It would be ridiculous to expect that anyone else could contribute, wouldn’t it?”
    Trixie squirmed next to her husband and studiously avoided looking at either him or her best friend.
    “Sorry?” Jim sounded puzzled.
    “Are you?” Honey demanded. “You are just being so darned selfish!” 
    “Selfish!” Jim echoed, his expression now a blend of surprise and irritation.
    “Yes, selfish,” Honey confirmed. “In one way or another everyone is going to contribute to the school once it’s up and running. Even though Brian is now working at the hospital, he’s going to help design the infirmary and run first aid sessions for the students, Mart is already working on the landscaping and garden layout, Diana has promised to help with drama and art workshops, outside of regular classes, Dan’s going to supervise campouts and do some part-time counselling and Trixie….” Honey’s gaze shifted to her best friend and Jim followed suit.
    Trixie looked up and managed a weak smile. “I won’t really be doing much,” she said.
    “You will be like the den mother meets cookie baker meets law enforcement specialist meets…“ Honey trailed off.
    “I doubt I’ll be all those things,” Trixie said. “And even if I am, I probably won’t be that good at it.”
    “You’ll be great,” Jim said promptly. “You all will be and I’m so grateful for the help and if Dad wants to come and talk to the students about business, I’d love to have him.”
    “But not his money or Mother’s,” Honey’s anger seemed to have abated somewhat and she now looked sad, disappointed and irritated.
    Jim leaned forward. “We all believe in being independent, Sis. We always have.”
    “Lots of schools are funded. Most, in fact.”
    “I get that. I really do. But this is different.”
    “Why?” Honey asked. “Dad, Mother, me, we all want to contribute. We’re your family, or we’re supposed to be.”
    “Of course you’re my family, and I love you.”
    “Just not enough to put your pride aside.” Honey sank down onto a nearby chair. Brian, who’d remained standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living areas, crossed the room and dropped down beside his girlfriend, slipping an arm around her shoulders.
    “Honey,” Jim said. “I don’t get it. We’ve always done things ourselves.”
    “Not everything,” Honey countered. “Our parents took us on vacations and paid for our education and….”
    “But those are things parents do pay for,” Jim said. 
    “And helping orphaned or disadvantaged kids isn’t something they should help pay for?”
    “Well, this is my dream,” Jim protested.
    “And parents can’t help you realise that dream? They so want to do something to help.  They don’t want to take over or pay for whole damn thing. They just want to be a part of it.”
    “I appreciate that. I really do.” Jim ran his hand through his thick red hair. “But I know that you understand why I don’t want this school to just be another Wheeler International Project. I want—need—it to be something I do.”
    “You’re pretty much devoting your life to it. I think that makes it very clear.” Honey took a deep breath. “They don’t want to take over; they just want to help. I want to help, damn it.”
    “You?” Jim regarded her with surprise. “You’re always there for me. I know I can count on you.”
    “Oh, honestly.” Honey shook her head. “I should have known I was wasting my time. You’re too stubborn to change your mind. I just hoped….”
    “I’m not that stubborn,” Jim protested and glared when both Trixie and Brian stifled snorts.
    “Sorry,” Honey said finally. “I know it sounds as if I’m criticizing you and I don’t mean it that way, exactly. It’s just that our parents rarely ask me for my help and….”
    “Mother and Dad specifically asked you to talk to me?”
    “Yes,” Honey admitted. “But I only did it because I agree with them. The school is an enormous undertaking and anything that means it will open sooner is a good thing.”
    “Okay, so that I agree with, too.” Jim took a deep breath of his own. “Did they have something in particular in mind?”
    “Yes,” Honey responded promptly. “They thought they could work on the residential wing.”
    “Work how?”
    “Whatever you needed.” Honey leaned towards her brother. “They could be a part of the actual construction, or,” she added hastily, seeing his jaw tighten, “they could organize the design, furnishing, decorating, etc.”
    “Furniture and decorating?” Jim repeated slowly.
    “With your approval, of course.”
    “You couldn’t just have started with that?” Jim’s green eyes narrowed suspiciously.
    “You weren’t being very receptive full-stop,” Honey pointed out. “But does this mean you’ll consider it?”
    Jim was silent for a moment, the he turned to Trixie. “What do you think?”
    “I think they are your parents and they contribute to a lot of great causes. And this is definitely a great cause.” Trixie moved closer to him and brushed his cheek with a kiss.
    “And you?” Jim shot his best friend an inquiring look. “You’re not exactly renowned for your dependency.”
    Brian dipped his head in acknowledgement. “True enough, but I might point out to you that the hospital where I ply my trade recently accepted a very generous donation from your folks.”
    “That is a little different,” Jim said. “It’s a hospital.”
    “Yes,” Brian conceded. “But at first, because it’s my area, I was reluctant to say yes. I thought it looked like nepotism.”
    “And then…?” Jim asked.
    “And then my registrar, the other residents and the board chair all talked to me and I realised that I was letting my idea of independence interfere with better medical facilities for our patients. That’s nuts. I don’t care what people say if I can be a more effective doctor.”
    Jim took a moment to respond. “Fine,” he said with a smile. “I surrender. The Wheelers made me a part of their family a long time ago. And families stick together.”
    “And eat together, too,” Trixie said happily. “I have some raspberry ripple ice cream in the freezer. Let’s celebrate.”


    “Honey was right, though,” Jim said. “The plans mother has come up for the residence are terrific, and not what I expected.”
    Trixie laughed. “What did you expect? Satin, velvet and gold-plated taps? Your mother has excellent taste.”
    “Yes, she does,” Jim agreed. “But I was worried that her initial thoughts might not be in keeping with my ideas. I figured she might want individual rooms and Egyptian cotton, you know.”
    Trixie shook her head. “You didn’t give her enough credit.”
    “I know that now,” Jim said, and Trixie knew he was thinking of the planned, well-laid out rooms with their two sets of bunk beds, practical bureaus and army foot lockers for each student. “And to be honest, I’ve really enjoyed working with her and talking to her about things. It’s been great.” 
    “So I should just accept whatever help Honey turns up with for our guest room?”
    “Yes”, Jim slipped an arm around his wife. “In the spirit of Christmas, that is exactly what you should do.”
The following morning after a delicious Jim-cooked breakfast, Trixie headed down to the basement to go through the boxes of Christmas decorations. The previous Christmas had been their first as a couple and she had enjoyed buying lights and tree ornaments to go with those her mother had insisted on giving her. A smile curved her mouth as she lifted out the gorgeous handmade pieces her mother had created; photographs of family members and BWGs, edged in crocheted wool, perfect for hanging on the tree and a reminder of how lucky she was.
 Trixie loved her life. She really did. She was married to Jim, whom she adored, was a real-life detective, alongside Honey, had a home that was both individual and reminded her of Crabapple farm, and her closest friends and family were all living their dream lives, more or less, nearby.
    Sure, there had been challenges along the way: fights between the couples, whose sustained relationships had defied the odds, stumbles and disappointments along their education and career paths, and health scares for both Madeleine Wheeler and Mr.Maypenny, but they were all still here, still living a version of the lives they’d planned as teenagers.
     “Yoo-hoo!”
    Trixie’s smile widened as she recognized Honey’s voice calling from the kitchen. “I’m down here,” she yelled.
    A moment later, Honey appeared on the basement stairs.
    “Didn’t anyone ever teach you that ‘yoo-hoo’ is an unladylike way to come a calling?” Trixie demanded.
    “Oh, pooh!” Honey scoffed and descended the last few stairs.
    “Even less ladylike,” Trixie observed with a grin.
    “True,” Honey admitted. “It must be the company I keep.”
    “Nice.” Trixie got to her feet and rubbed at the dust on her jeans. “How come it’s so dusty down here? She complained. “This house is almost new. It shouldn’t have had time to gather dust.”
    “Dust,” Honey mused, not bothering to point out that a lot of dust could accumulate in the nine months Trixie and Jim had been living at Ten Acres, “appears to be your lot in life.”
    “All too true. Mine is a hard road.” Trixie blinked her blue eyes innocently.
    Honey snorted inelegantly.  “Poor you! My heart bleeds.”
    Trixie eyes her friend balefully. “You know, you are nowhere near as sweet as people think you are. Jim and I were just talking about the way you bullied him into accepting help on the house.”
    Honey shrugged and her brow wrinkled. “That was actually very hard for me.”
    “Calling your very own full-flooded adopted brother names?” Trixie’s lips twitched.
    Her best friend shuddered. “That was awful, but tough love was called for and tough love I delivered.” 
“Yes, you did.” Trixie reached for one of the boxes and nodded to another. “Can you grab that? I’ve worked up an appetite down here and there is still leftover cake in our refrigerator.”
    “Okay,” Honey agreed, picking up the box and following her friend back up the stairs.
    The two were soon seated at the Frayne’s kitchen table, sipping coffee and eating slices of apple walnut cake.
    “This is good,” Honey said happily. “Breakfast was hours ago.”
    “Freak.” Trixie shook her sandy curls. “It’s the weekend. Why get up at the crack of dawn?”
    Honey shrugged. “I’m used to it and Brian’s on early shift, so we got to eat breakfast together. I actually like being up early in the mornings.”
    “You wouldn’t like it so much if you’d had my childhood. Dragged out of bed to feed chickens and get Bobby ready for school and….”Trixie trailed off, catching sight of her best-friend’s expression.  “That works a whole lot better when I say it to someone who wasn’t actually around for any of my childhood,” she concluded, cutting another piece of cake.
    “I imagine it does.” Honey’s hazel eyes twinkled. 
    “That’s the trouble with old friends,” Trixie admitted. “Still, what’s a girl to do?”
    “Well you could get yourself a set of new friends.”
    “Too much work to break them in,” Trixie deadpanned and Honey laughed.
    “I suppose those bags over there contain your guest room paraphernalia?” Trixie nodded towards the pile of bulging carry bags by the back door.
    “Technically, it’s your guest room paraphernalia,” Honey corrected, “but yes, they do.”
    “Come on,” Trixie said, getting to her feet. “We might as well get it over with.”
    Honey’s lips twitched. “Poor Trixie. The things you have to put up with.”
    “I’m a saint,” Trixie returned. “You are very lucky to have me as a friend.”
    “And don’t I know it.”


    While the two young women put the guest room together, Jim and Mart climbed ladders and strung row after row of Christmas lights around the farmhouse. Dan arrived with a spectacular tree and with help from the other two men, set it up in the place Trixie had selected.
    The five gathered together around the pine kitchen table for lunch, munching happily on hot dogs.
    “Seriously,” Dan said, reaching for a second tasty bun. “You can have your caviar and your foie gras, give me the great American hot dog any day.”
    “Me, too,” Jim agreed.
    “Me, three,” Trixie added.
    “Can’t I like both?” Honey asked, looking vaguely guilty when their gazes fell on her.
    “Not legally,” Trixie returned with a grin.
    They turned their attention to Mart who shrugged and smiled. “I’m with Honey. These dogs are the best, but I am not averse to something a little more upmarket in the food department. I have few prejudices were food is concerned.”
    “That’s a true story,” Trixie quipped.
    “These are good, though,” Honey said, helping herself to another. “And they always remind me of when I first moved to Sleepyside, which makes them extra special.”
    “I might not put them on the menu while Aunt Alicia’s here,” Trixie said regretfully. “I think I might lose points in the home management department.”
    “You might be surprised,” Mart observed, his hand hovering over a third bun. “She is related to us, after all.”
    “Excellent point,” Jim said, raising his glass of root beer. “To finding out that Aunt Alicia is a lot more like us than we know.”
    The other raised their glasses and made the hopeful toast.


     After the others had left, Jim followed his wife to check out the newly decked out guest room.
Standing on the threshold, he gave an appreciative low whistle. “Trix, the room looks great. Even Aunt Alicia couldn’t find fault.”
    Trixie snuggled against him. “I agree with the first, but I wouldn’t lay money on the second, still….” She surveyed the guest room with more than a little satisfaction.
    The Wheelers had, when Trixie and Jim first moved into the farmhouse, given the young couple a number of pieces of furniture. Hand me downs from a Manor House revamp. Among them was a relatively simple bedroom suite.  There was a queen-sized bed with a headboard, padded in a soft grey-green, twin night tables in beech-wood, and a matching bureau. Until recently, the bureau had been full of paperwork from the couple’s college days, and the bed covered in boxes containing everything from clothes to books to homewares.
    Now, the bed featured matching linens in grey, green, cream and taupe. Throw pillows in the same colours but flecked with cerise gave a pop of colour, and the same tones were in the soft traditional rugs. Simple cut-glass lamps with plain shades sat upon the night table and a vase of similar style awaited flowers on the bureau. A comfortable chair was placed in one corner and there was even a selection of books in the built in shelves alongside it.  The effect was calm, welcoming and more than a little stylish.
    “Well, that is one big tick off of our to-do list,” Jim said, dropping a kiss on the top of his wife’s sandy curls.
    “Yes, it is,” Trixie agreed. “Honey even brought a set of towels for the guest bathroom and they’re all laid out ready with guest toiletries and everything. Sometimes,” she continued, “I suspect your sister secretly wants to be a decorator or run a BnB.”
    “She’d be good at both,” Jim commented. “But she’s even better at being one-half of that dynamic detective duo, Belden-Wheeler Investigations.”
    Trixie laughed. “Nice save. But honestly, Jim, Honey could have done lots of things, whereas I….”
    “Whereas you are a brilliant detective and could have used those skills in any number of law-enforcement fields. Your ability to solve problems as well as your tenacity also could have been used in tactical fields like the armed forces or even in research.”
    “Maybe,” Trixie allowed. “Those aren’t exactly soft, fluffy fields of employment, are they?”
    “Did you want soft and fluffy?”
    “No.” Trixie expelled her breath. “Don’t mind me. Aunt Alicia always makes me feel like my most awkward, tomboy, disappointing self. I need to snap out of it.”
    “Yes, you do,” Jim confirmed. “I knew that awkward tomboy and she never, ever disappointed. Not then and not now. You are a beautiful, competent, wonderful woman and don’t you forget it.”
    “You wouldn’t let me.” Trixie leaned into him.
    “You got that right, shamus. Now, come on, let’s get dinner started. I want everything prepared before the others show up to trim the tree.”
    Trixie nodded and hand in hand, they left the room.


    “The lights look amazing,” Diana Belden exclaimed, clapping her hands together, while Mart balanced their infant son, Kyle, on one hip.  
    “We fellas did a nice job, if I say so myself,” her husband remarked proudly.
    “You certainly did.” Diana smiled as Trixie came flying out the front door, followed closely by Jim. “It looks great, Trix,” she added.
    “You can see them from the road,” Mart put in. “Very impressive.”
    Trixie turned to her husband. “Planning on causing a power outage in Glen Road,” she asked sweetly.
    Jim moved closer to her and slid an arm around her shoulders. “You malign me, wife of mine. These lights are all LED, and our solar panels and batteries are more than capable of handling them.”
    “Of course they are.”     Trixie grinned impishly. “That’s what I’d expect from my super-smart, environmentally conscious husband.”     
    “Flattery will get you everywhere,” Jim returned, unoriginally.
    “Seriously?” Mart climbed the porch steps and stopped next to his sister so that she could bestow a kiss on her nephew’s cheek. “I’d want a whole lot more flattery than that.”
    “Of course you would, my love,” Diana followed her husband up the steps. “Now, as fun as this is, it’s chilly out here, let’s get our family inside where it’s warm.”


    Half an hour later, with Brian, Honey, and Dan, all present and accounted for, the group gathered in the Fraynes’ living room, drinks in hand, admiring the majestic fir tree that took pride of place in between two large windows in one corner of the room.
    “Can you believe how fast this year has gone?” Diana asked, with a fond glance for her son, who was happily ensconced in his bouncinette.
    “This time last year, the two of you were on the verge of parenthood.” Dan beamed at his godson. “I wonder who’ll be next?”
    “Don’t look at me!” Honey said swiftly. “Brian and I have barely finished unpacking and still have to remember we’re actually married.”
    “Neither of those things are a deterrent for parenthood,” Dan quipped.
    “You can go next, if you like. Honey suggested with a sweet smile.
    “Maybe we should change the topic of conversation.” Dan grabbed a handful of peanuts from the nearby bowl and settled back in his chair.
    “Smart move,” Jim acknowledged with a grin of his own.
    “Now,” Diana said, reaching into her tote and pulling out a notebook and pen. “While we’re relaxing before dinner, shall we go over who’s doing what for Christmas day?”
    “Good idea.” Brian moved around the room refilling glasses for those who were drinking wine. “I, for one, will make my world famous potato salad.”
    “World famous?” Mart asked, lifting his sandy brows.
    “Westchester County famous?” Brian returned, hopefully.
    “Sleepyside famous...maybe.” Jim grinned at his friend who shrugged philosophically.
    “Hey, knock it off,” Trixie admonished. “I want all the dishes I can get. I cannot afford to get any of my chefs offside. Besides, his potato salad is pretty good.”
    “Thank you, little sister.” Brian gave a mock bow. “It’s the paprika.”
    “I was thinking of whipping up a chocolate cream pie,” Dan said nonchalantly. “Unless my pals want to debate its merit?”
    “Never,” Mart returned fervently. “Trix, you said you’d handle the turkey, so we’ll bring a baked ham, okay?”
    “More than okay.” Trixie smile at her almost-twin.
    “I’ll make coleslaw and a green salad,” Honey offered. “And bring an assortment of cheeses and things we can have before the meal.”
    “And I’ll make pumpkin pie,” Di added. “I know it’s not Thanksgiving but Aunt Alicia loves my pumpkin pie.”
    “From the sounds of all of that, I’ll hardly be doing anything,” Trixie observed wryly.
    “The turkey, green beans, apple pie…. You’ll have plenty to keep you busy in the kitchen,” Mart said. 
    “Where I belong?” Trixie returned, narrowing her blue eyes.
    “Natch,” Mart replied and the two burst out laughing.
    “Well, it sounds as if the BWGs have everything covered, as usual.” Jim stood as he spoke. “And on that note, I’m going to check the lasagne and get the salad out. Dinner in five.”
    “And I will freshen our guests’ drinks,” Trixie added. “And give thanks for the best group of friends ever.”
    After dinner they regrouped in the living room ready to decorate the tree.
    “I cannot believe how much my nephew sleeps,” Trixie remarked, peering at him with both love and interest.
    “We’re lucky, I think,” Di said. “According to my mother, we Lynch babies were nowhere near as agreeable.”
    “Neither were we Beldens,” Mart said. “Except for Brian, of course.”
    “Of course!” The others chorused, with the exception of Honey.
    Honey wrinkled her nose at them and turned to her husband. “Just ignore them. They are jealous.”
    “I’m used to them,” Brian said with a beatific smile. “I’m immune to their slings and arrows.”
    “If you don’t watch it we’ll use real slings and arrows,” Trixie warned.   
      There was much joking and laughter as, with Trixie directing, they set about transforming the tree. Finally, Jim placed the star at its very top and they all stood back while Trixie flicked the switch and the tree lit up.
    “It’s gorgeous,” Diana cried.
    “Perfectly perfect.” Honey leaned into Brian’s arm, her hazel eyes shining.
    “It does look good, doesn’t it?” Trixie’s glance went from friend to friend, fixing lastly on her husband.
    “My little sister said it best,” Jim said. “Now that is guestroom, outside lights, menu and tree, all off the list. We’re looking good, I’d say.”
    “Let’s see if you still think that in three days time,” 
    “Christmas isn’t for five days, sis,” Brian reminded her.
    “Oh, I know that.” Trixie assumed a woebegone expression. “Three days is when Aunt Alicia arrives—D-day.”


    The three days passed in a flash. Trixie and Honey worked hard to get their cases as up to date as possible then closed the office for the holidays. There was a flurry of activity as gifts were finalised and food ordered or bought.
    On the afternoon of Aunt Alicia’s arrival, Trixie went into the guestroom for about the tenth time, checking that everything was as it should be. The room was spotless, the bed inviting and the newly bought glass vase held a mass of delphiniums.
    An afghan was draped across the back of the reading chair, perfect if the room happened to feel a little chilly. Older people felt the cold, didn’t they? Trixie’s lips curved in a reluctant smile. While Aunt Alicia was considerably older than her own parents, she wasn’t exactly ancient. She just seemed ancient.  
    “I need to get a grip,” she said aloud. “It’s Christmas. How bad can it possibly get?”
    Two hours later, that sentence replayed in her head as she assembled cups and saucers on a tray and carefully placed a pot of coffee alongside them.
    “Let me help, Trix.” Honey appeared in the doorway, her expression warm and understanding.
    “Thanks. I’ve sliced some cake and there’s those mini-muffins I made this morning.”
    Honey swiftly reached for another tray and deposited the sweet treats on them. She opened draws and cupboards and added side plates and napkins.
    “See!” Trixie hissed. “It’s hopeless. I wouldn’t have thought of napkins!”
    “Oh, pooh!” Honey retorted.
    “The cake and the muffins are far more important and you made them both yourself. I just dare Aunt Alicia to criticise that.”
    “Let’s not tempt fate, shall we?” Trixie begged. “She isn’t exactly raving about us so far. She can’t understand why we didn’t pick a less exposed spot for the house. The wind must be very unsettling.”
    Honey’s lips twitched. 
    “And our modern furniture is quite comfortable, she supposes.”
    “Well, it’s better than being uncomfortable,” Honey managed, just, not to laugh.
    “Trixie! Isn’t that coffee ready yet?”
    Aunt Alicia’s call, though imperious and ladylike, was easily audible—even though she was some distance away in the more formal living room. Trixie shook her head, wondering how her aunt managed it. “Come on,” she sighed. “I might as well get it over with.” 
    Although she might not be fulsome in her praise, Aunt Alicia drank two cups of coffee and sampled both the cake and the muffins.
    “Your mother made these, I imagine,” she said. “Helen always did have a light hand when it came to baking.”
    “Actually, Trixie made them, Aunt,” Honey said with a smile as she refilled the older woman’s coffee cup. “And I agree. I just love her cakes. Her cookies are marvellous too. Wait until you try them.”
    Trixie smothered a smile at the slightly disconcerted expression on her Aunt’s face. With Jim at work and her parents yet to return from their trip, she’d been grateful when Honey offered, insisted really, on being on hand for Alicia’s arrival.
    Truth be told, her aunt wasn’t exactly cruel or especially nasty, she just always made Trixie feel inadequate, disapproved of, and that was not fun. Her parents had gently reminded her, over the years, that not everyone was as fortunate as they were. Alicia had no family of her own and had often disagreed with her siblings. But although this aroused some sympathy in her, Trixie often thought of Miss Trask. She may not have married and had children of her own, but she was a loving sister, a devoted friend, a wonderful person altogether.
    And Regan and Dan and Mr. Maypenny had made a family of their own. So had the Bob-Whites, even though they were actually family now for the most part.
    “Did you hear me, Trixie?”
    Trixie looked up guiltily and met Alicia’s inquiring gaze. “Sorry, Aunt Alicia,” she mumbled.
    “Still daydreaming your life away,” Alicia said, though at least she didn’t sound all that annoyed. “Now, what do I have to do to get a tour of your home?”
    Trixie caught Honey’s eye and the grimace she felt forming on her face eased into a smile. “Just follow me, Aunt Alicia. I can’t wait to show you everything.”
    
    Christmas, Trixie reflected, made you think more about your life. According to the wealth of advertising that besieged anyone living in the modern western world, there was a seemingly never ending array of gadgets and trinkets you just had to have to celebrate appropriately.  You, your house, your family, your meals, your clothes, your gifts, all were in need of a holiday makeover, or at least that was how she ended up feeling.
    When she was a child, none of this had invaded the sheer excitement and joy of the approaching magical season. Decorating Crabapple Farm, making macaroni necklaces for her mother and oddly shaped pen holders for her father’s desk, usually under Brian’s patient supervision, and baking cookies with Moms, these were the sorts of things that occupied her time and energy. This year, instead of concentrating on enjoying being at Ten Acres with Jim, she was worrying whether or not she was living up to her house guest’s expectations.
    Sighing, she began gathering items from the refrigerator and pantry to assemble the lasagne and salad she’d promised for lunch. Mart had collected Aunt Alicia earlier that morning and taken her to his and Diana’s home for coffee and a chance to catch up with the recently returned Beldens. At least it gave her the opportunity to work without Alicia looking over her shoulder.
    A knock at the back door make her jump, and at the appearance of her oldest brother in her kitchen a moment later, she picked up an orange from the fruit bowl and flung it in his direction. Brian caught it easily.
    “Are you mad at me or is this your way of contributing to my vitamin C intake?”
    “A little of both,” Trixie returned. “Honey isn’t here, you know.”
    “I know where my wife is, thank you. I came to see my sister.” 
    Trixie raised her sandy brows. “Checking that I’m not about to put something in our aunt’s coffee? Making sure I remember that Beldens are first and foremost gracious hosts and supportive family members?”
    Brian grinned. “Can’t see why I’d need to do either one of those things.”
    “You’ve always taken your responsibilities as the eldest sibling seriously. Making sure I stay out of trouble. Getting me out of trouble when I don’t stay out of it.”
    “Trix, sometimes I think your memory is a little patchy. Sure, I have oldest child syndrome. I probably always will. But it’s been a long time since I had to keep you or get you out of trouble. You are a very capable responsible person in your own right.”
    “Thanks.” Trixie crossed to the coffee pot and reaching for mugs from the overhead cupboard, poured coffee for them both.
    Brian sipped his appreciatively. “I know Aunt Alicia pushes your buttons. Uncle Mart does the same thing to me.”
    “Uncle Mart?” Trixie frowned in surprise. “But he’s so fun and easygoing.”
    “Exactly,” Brian agreed. “And he loves to kid me about being serious and uptight. Lots of stories about my childhood exploits, looking after you or Bobby, studying so hard, wanting to help out. It’s all light-hearted and fun, but somehow I always wind up feeling like a stick in the mud; Boring Brian in all of his glory. I hate it.”  
     “I had no idea,” Trixie said slowly. “Though being reminded of how good you are doesn’t seem all that terrible.”
    Brian shrugged. “Disapproval is in the eye of the beholder, I guess. Uncle Mart is one of our cooler relatives. It’s not great being mocked by him. Just makes me feel like an outsider.”
    Trixie thought for a moment before responding. “I can see that, I guess. But he loves you, you know that, and I know for a fact that he brags about you to other people.”
    Her brother smiled. “What does that tell you?”
    Trixie rolled her eyes. “Fine. I do know Aunt Alicia loves me too, but you can’t convince me she brags about me.”
    “Maybe not yet,” Brian allowed. “But you mark my word, after a few days staying with Trixie Belden-Frayne, the praise will be flowing. You can count on it.”
    “I should put money on that bet,” Trixie grumbled. 
    “Ten bucks,” Brian returned.
    “Make it a twenty and you have a deal.”
    “A twenty it is. Now, can I have a muffin? Honey told me how good they are.”
    “Your true motive revealed.” Trixie sighed, but her lips twitched and her blue eyes held their usual sparkle. 
    Brian settled into his chair, his mission accomplished.
 
    Christmas morning was like nothing else on earth, Trixie thought as she snuggled closer to her husband. She was glad they left the drapes open the previous evening as from her vantage point she could turn her head and see the faint flurry of snow falling outside. The forecast claimed it would not last, but waking up on Christmas morning and seeing snowflakes….who could ask for more?
    She glanced at the clock on the night table, knowing she should get up and get moving. Reluctantly, she threw the covers back and began to slide out of bed. A strong arm snaked out and pulled her back.
    “Where do you think you’re going?’ Jim demanded.
    “To begin my day of domestic slavery,” she retorted, blue eyes sparkling.
    “Before giving me one of my Christmas presents?” Jim did his best to look wounded.
    “None of your presents are up here. They’re all under the tree.” Trixie said.
    “Oh, I don’t think so,” Jim corrected. “I am pretty sure that one of my presents is right here, right now.”
    “Really?” Trixie lifted her sandy brows. “You seem confident, Mr. Frayne.”
    “I am. I know you.”
    “Nice.” Trixie grinned. “You do remember we have a guest, don’t you?”
    “Yes, but as far as I can see, she’s not here right at the moment.”
    “She’s in the house, though.”
    “True, but if you take a moment to recall our floorplan and the proximity of the guest room in relation to our own, then I think you’ll agree that we have the required privacy.”
    “Mmm.” Trixie pretended to consider this.  “I suppose you might have a point,” she announced finally.
    “So can I have my present then?” Jim began to nibble lightly on her ear.
     “Well, why not. We have to start somewhere.” Trixie opened her arms and husband and wife exchanged presents happily.
 
    The morning passed happily enough. Whether it was tact or fatigue, Aunt Alicia remained in her room, lingering over the coffee and toast Jim took her, leaving the young couple to enjoy their Christmas breakfast together. As lunch time approached, the guests arrived, gifts were exchanged and everyone gathered around the large dining room table to begin their feast. Plates were filled and emptied as dishes were passed from hand to hand. Eventually, the group withdrew to the living and family rooms to relax and catch up between courses.
“The truth is,” Alicia said slowly, pausing to take another sip of her strawberry soda. “I was always afraid you’d end up like me.”
    Trixie snorted, spluttering her own soda and coughing as she tried to recover. “Sorry,” she managed finally.
    Her aunt’s eyes twinkled, a sight that Trixie had a hard time registering; had she ever seen Alicia’s eyes actually twinkle?
    “I worried that you might be too much like me when you were growing up.”
    “Right.” Trixie said, wondering if her aunt had some sort of unusual form of delusion or dementia.  Memories scampered across her mind: pink fluffy sweaters and embroidery sets, Barbie dolls and pastel dresses. “Well, we are family, I guess. There are always similarities in families.” Not that I can see any between you and I, but…
    “You probably think I’ve lost my mind,” Alicia continued with frightening accuracy. “I know we haven’t always seen things exactly the same way.”
    “Not exactly,” Trixie agreed.
    “You’ve always done things your own way, Trixie. Always been determined, even as a little girl.”
    “Determination is one of my qualities according to my friends.”
    “I was like that too,” the older woman confided. “Had my own ideas, didn’t go along just for the sake of it. Wanted to be more than a housewife.”
    “Really?” Trixie leaned forward, feeling a genuine curiosity washing over her.
    Alicia nodded, her lips curving a half-smile. “Of course, I never imagined I wouldn’t eventually meet someone and have my own family. I suppose there were opportunities, but I so hated being told what to do.”
    “That does sound like me,” Trixie admitted.
    “I was a lot more pigheaded than you are,” her aunt’s laugh was tinged with bitterness. “I didn’t learn how to compromise.”
    “Compromise is hard,” Trixie said, feeling a strange mixture of emotions.
    “You were smart enough to understand how important it is.”
    Trixie shook her sandy curls. “I was lucky. I had great examples in my parents and my brothers and friends. Honey alone taught me so much about listening to other people and respecting their opinions.”
    “You were still smart enough to pay attention.”
    “Not everyone would agree, but thank you.”
      “Anyway, I was going to be a successful woman in my own right. Do things my own way.”
    “Well, you had a good job, working as a secretary at that law firm for all of those years,” Trixie said.
Her aunt’s smile thinned. “I wanted to be a lawyer—I was a good arguer, and like you, I liked to solve problems—but my parents could only afford secretarial school.  My plan was to work for a while then go back to school.”
“What happened?”
“Life, I suppose. I was very efficient and I got used to working at the firm. It was a good job, but it didn’t make up for other things.” Alicia reached for another Christmas cookie and bit into it. “Honey was right, your cookies are good.”
            Trixie smiled. “Cookies and cakes were the things I didn’t mind learning to cook when was a kid.”
    “The rest of your cooking is pretty good, too, young lady.”
    “Thank you.” Trixie blinked in surprise. Whatever she’d been expecting when her aunt had asked for a few words alone, this was not it.
    “You’ve made a good life for yourself, Trixie.  Your home, your family, your friends, your career. You should be proud.”
    Trixie felt the faintest prick of tears at the back of her eyes. “Like I said, I’ve been lucky.” 
    “I think it’s more than luck. I think it’s good judgment.” Alicia got to her feet. “Now, why don’t we join the others before Jim or Honey comes to rescue you?”
    Trixie laughed. At that moment, Honey’s dark gold head appeared around the doorway leading back into the living room.
    “We thought it might be nice to have dessert now, if you two agree?” she said brightly.
    “That sounds lovely, dear.” Aunt Alicia patted Honey’s arm on the way past. “You are a good friend, you know.”
    “Ahh, thank you,” Honey returned blankly. She hurried across to her friend. “Are you okay?”
    “Perfectly fine,” Trixie said. “Dessert sounds great, and Aunt Alicia is right, as usual. You are a good friend.” She smiled and headed to the other door in the direction of the kitchen.
    “As usual?” Honey stood for a moment before shaking her head and following her best friend.   
    
    Trixie set the desserts out on the table and let people help themselves. Soon, hot apple pies, cheesecake and chocolate cream pie were being happily devoured. After ensuring that all of her guests had something sweet, Trixie went over to join her aunt again, taking a seat at the small table set in the bay window.
    “This chocolate cream pie should be illegal, and the pumpkin pie is perfectly perfect, as Honey would say, ” the older woman said with a smile.
    “Diana’s pumpkin pies are the best, and Dan is a genius with chocolate,” Trixie said, taking a bite of her own desserts.
    “And your mother has outdone herself. This might be her best apple pie yet.” There was a twinkle in Alicia’s eyes and her lips twitched as she spoke.
    Trixie leaned back, her blue eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Who told you?”
    “Told me what?” Alicia blinked her own blue eyes innocently and for a moment Trixie felt as if she was looking into a mirror.
    “That I made the pies. I didn’t want Moms to stress when she got back from her trip.”
    “No one told me, but I might have suspected, and it does confirm what I said earlier about your cooking prowess.”
    Trixie grinned. “Well, I like to eat, so cooking is pretty much a necessity. Not that Jim doesn’t cook, because he does. He’s not much of a pie maker, though.”
    Alicia’s expression softened. “I imagine you weren’t really looking forward to my visit?”
    Honesty and tact struggled briefly in Trixie’s already disconcerted psyche. She looked up and met her aunt’s knowing gaze and shrugged her shoulders.
    “You are welcome here anytime. I mean that, but I might have had a few misgivings. You never exactly seem to approve of me.”
    “No. Disapproval became a habit with me, too, Trixie. I’m very good at it.”
    “You sure are,” Trixie answered automatically, then drew her breath in sharply.
    Alicia laughed loudly and for the second time in as many minutes, Trixie caught a glimpse of herself in the other woman’s face. 
    “Sorry,” Trixie mumbled.
    “No need. I honestly think that part of reasoning was that I didn’t want you to be too different. I knew what that could cost. I thought if she could just be more like the other girls, she’d probably have a happier life.”
    Trixie didn’t agree but she could sort of see the logic.
    “The other part of me resented how happy you seemed being different.  It didn’t seem to bother you at all. I always felt different, felt as if I didn’t belong.”
    “Everyone feels like that sometimes,” Trixie protested. “At least everyone who’s got any sense. Heck, even Brian feels that way, and he’s…Brian.”
    “Oh, Trixie, I wish I’d been as wise as you.”
    “Wise?” Trixie raised her brows doubtfully. “Not sure Mart would agree with that.”
    “Mart adores you. They all do. You’re going to make a good mother, too.”
    “One day, I hope,” Trixie returned.
    Surprise flickered across her aunt’s face. “Oh, but surely….”
    “What?” Trixie asked blue eyes wide.
            “I thought…you seem a little out of sorts, not hungry first thing in the morning, then very hungry—especially for sweet things later on in the day, and the way you’re holding your hand to your belly….”
    “Oh, oh, oh…Aunt Alicia you’re a genius…or a witch.” Trixie leapt to her feet.  “Jim, Moms, Honey, everyone,” she called across the room. “ Jim! I have one more Christmas present for you. And you’re going to love it.”

HOLIDAYS WITH THE BWGs

Author's notes: I can't believe I'm a part of this fantastic community. It's an honour to participate in Secret Santa (my third, which is amazing in itself) It's always a little scary, especially when your recipient is not well-known to you...you hate to disappoint them, you want so much to produce a piece that gives back to them, as they have given to the Jix community. Robin's request was wonderfully undemanding and I thank her for that, and hope she finds this story satisfying. It was fun to play around with Aunt Alicia. There is a special Jix person whom I pay an homage to in this story and that is Pat (Amygirl) Her generosity and kindness is one of the things that makes this such a great community to be a part of. And her Christmas tree gift, received by me, in my new home, last year, brought tears to me eyes. Thank you, Pat.  My thanks, as ever, go to my beautiful editor, Dana, who I have now hugged for real. She takes far better care of me than I deserve. Thanks also to the marvellous Mal (also hugged in person) It takes a lot to organise this event and she does it so very willingly. Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me, but tis the season and they really should be gifted to us all.