"Come on, Honey,” Trixie wheedled, “let’s go check it out. Everyone’s talking about the Santa Claus at Crimper’s. I want to see him, too. It’ll be fun.”

Honey shook her head. “Trixie, we don’t have any reason to hang around the Santa station. Maybe we could take Bobby.”

Trixie snorted, “Right! You won’t convince me that little demon doesn’t know the truth about Santa. He’s just milking Moms and Daddy for every present he can get!”

Since the day after Thanksgiving, Sleepyside had been abuzz with talk of Crimper’s Santa Claus, especially at the Sleepyside high school. You couldn’t walk down the hall or sit in the cafeteria without overhearing a conversation about it. Several kids swore that he was no less than THE Santa Claus -- the bona-fide, honest-to-goodness, genuine, North Pole variety, owner of eight tiny reindeer -- Kris Kringle!

“We don’t have any reason to see Santa, Trixie,” Honey continued her protest. “We can’t exactly sit on his lap and tell him what we want for Christmas!”

Trixie’s blue eyes twinkled at the thought and her mind drifted off as she wondered exactly what she would ask the jolly old elf to bring her, if she could have anything she wanted. Anything at all…

Honey continued talking, failing to realize Trixie was no longer listening.“Let’s wait and get Di to go with us. We could take Bobby and the twins.” She waited a moment for Trixie to respond before trying again. “Trixie? Trixie, what do you think about that?”

“Think about what?” Trixie asked abruptly, turning to focus her attention back on her friend.

Honey sighed. She didn’t hear a word I said. She repeated her suggestion about waiting.

“Okay. We could go after school tomorrow. It’ll be a lot less crowded during the week. All of us will fit in the Bob-White station wagon.” Now that the three girls were left in Sleepyside, with the four oldest Bob-Whites attending various colleges and universities, they had total control of the Bob-White station wagon.

“Our insurance is due at the first of the year,” Trixie mentioned, remembering her tight budget. She had already discovered that there were many extra expenses involved with being a senior in high school: a year book, college application fees, homecoming tickets. Coming up with her part of the insurance bill was going to be tough. “How’s the treasury looking?”

“Slim pickings,” Honey admitted. “The older Bobby gets, the less he wears out his clothes. At least Mother has plenty of correspondence this time of the year. She’s asked me to address and sign all the Christmas cards for the family. She prefers the personal touch of a handwritten card. That should be enough for me to come up with my part, and Di will have extra baby-sitting chores. She mentioned her parents had several holiday parties to attend.”

“Well, that takes care of everyone’s share but mine,” Trixie moaned. “Honey, I think I’m going to apply for a job when we’re at Crimper’s tomorrow. Maybe I could work the weekends in gift-wrap or something. I need some extra money to cover my third of the bill. I don’t feel right asking the boys to pitch in this time around, not since they don’t drive The Beast any more.”

The girls affectionately referred to the Bob-White station wagon as “The Beast.” They took great pride in their automotive prowess and enjoyed the freedom of their own vehicle. While Di’s and Honey’s parents would have gladly provided their daughters with their own vehicles, they preferred to share in the club’s station wagon.

"This line is taking forever to move!” Trixie moaned in dismay.

Di looked around. “Last year there were helpers. I don’t see any this year. It’s not that long of a line; it’s just not moving very quickly. They’re not very organized, are they?”

Trixie and Honey quickly agreed. The three teenage girls had done better than some of the mothers at keeping their five charges waiting patiently.

“He does look real, doesn’t he?” Honey whispered, glancing around at the kids in line.

“Yes, I can see why everyone is talking,” Di answered, glancing at her brothers and sisters. She kept her voice low as well. “When did you realize?”

Honey flushed pink, knowing what Di meant. “Always. Mother and Daddy never did Santa with me. Everything I wanted was from them. Beautifully wrapped and under the tree.”

“Oh, gosh, Honey. I never knew that!” Trixie threw an arm around her friend. “I just can’t imagine. You never wrote Santa a letter?”

“Well…” she hedged.

“Come on, tell us,” Di pleaded. “Anything to fill the time while we wait.”

“I wrote him a letter every year I was at boarding school, asking him to bring me a brother.”

“Well, you finally got one,” Di told her, casting a wicked glance towards Trixie. “For which I’m sure Trixie is very grateful!”

“Diana!” Trixie wailed. “Little pitchers and all that!”

Honey and Di giggled. Trixie and Jim were the only couple out of the seven Bob-Whites, a fact that led to good-natured teasing of Trixie from the girls and numerous veiled warnings and threats issued to Jim from the guys.

One of the store managers approached the line of waiting parents and children, reassuring everyone that the line was moving as quickly as possible. The girls nodded, and Trixie glanced at her watch and winced.

“Listen, if I’m going to see about a job, I have to be back at the service desk before five. We’re going to be cutting it close. Do you care if I slip over there right now? I’ll probably be back before it’s our turn.”

“Go ahead,” Honey and Di both assured her they would be fine.

Trixie made one quick stop in the restroom to check her hair and apply lipstick before she approached the personnel desk at the back of Crimper’s. She was handed a short application.“We’ve already hired our gift wrappers for the season,” explained the receptionist, whose nametag read “Ms. Vandiver”. “But sometimes they’ll hire a floater to sub for the regulars. It’s worth a shot.”

Accepting the form, Trixie quickly filled in the pertinent information, and returned the completed application to the personnel desk. Ms. Vandiver was speaking to the same store manager who had spoken to the girls as they waited to see Santa.

He stared at the petite, curly-haired blonde teen intently as she handed her application in and answered a few questions from Ms. Vandiver. When the receptionist nodded as if to dismiss Trixie, he interjected. “Excuse me, miss…”

“Miss Belden,” Ms. Vandiver supplied with a glance at Trixie’s application. Crimper’s employees always addressed each other in a formal manner.

“Thank you.Miss Belden, I’m Mr. Cornelius, the senior manager of children’s departments and toys. Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions?”

Of course not,” Trixie replied with a hopeful smile. Perhaps he’ll hire me on the spot!

“I noticed you earlier in the line, with some children. Are you their babysitter?”

“One of them is my younger brother and I’ve been babysitting him for several years. The other four are my friend’s younger siblings. She normally baby sits them, but we help each other out a lot.”

“How tall are you?”

“About five foot, two inches with shoes,” Trixie answered, stretching her height by a half-inch.

“What size do you wear? What hours are you available? How late can you work? Will you be able to work weekends? Do you like kids?”

Trixie was bewildered at the barrage of questions and unsure which one to answer first. “Well, I’m a senior at the high school, so until the eighteenth I would only be available after school and of course, the weekends.” Trixie clenched her purse tightly to keep her hands from twisting in anxiety.

“We’d need you to try on the uniform,” he said, surveying her.

“Uniform? I didn’t realize Crimper’s had uniforms for employees.”

"Let me make sure I understand,” Trixie looked at the toy department manager who had hired her. “I’m to keep the line moving, assist Santa with the kids, snap their picture, noting the pass code… so the parents can look it up on our website later and download it if they wish.”

“Correct,” Mr. Cornelius nodded. “Are there any problems?”

“No,” she said slowly. “If you had a little something we could give the kids to keep them occupied while they wait, a small toy or even a candy cane, the line would move much more smoothly.”

“They’ll be getting enough from Santa in just a few weeks,” Mr. Cornelius dismissed her. “Use the radio if you get in a bind and need me. Breaks are scheduled every two hours for fifteen minutes.”

“Um, Mr. Cornelius?” Trixie had another suggestion. “I was wondering, do you have a few chairs we could place along the waiting line? Some of the mothers are really tired and could use a break. When we were in line there were at least two that were pregnant.”

“No, that will only encourage them to linger!” He shut his portfolio abruptly and clicked his pen. “Is that all?” he inquired, not troubling to conceal his impatience.

“Yes, sir,” she answered meekly. “Do you think the uniform is necessary?”

“Absolutely! The fact that the uniform fit you is one of the primary reasons you were hired. Did you stop and get your tights from the hosiery department?”

“Yes, sir.” That had been no problem.

“Very well, I’ll be checking back to see how things are going. Please don’t appear around Santa’s workshop unless you’re wearing the uniform.”

Trixie nodded. Grasping the sack with bright red tights, she left to get dressed in the ladies’ locker room. It took her longer than she expected to get the false ears to look natural, and the glittery, elaborate make-up was a bit annoying. She had to hurry to meet Crimper’s famed Santa. Looking around, she was relieved he hadn’t arrived yet, and peeked out into the toy department to see the line of kids waiting to visit Santa. Trixie cringed when she noticed a very tired and pregnant mother waiting.

“So, they’ve finally managed to hire me a real elf.” A deep, rich, jolly voice spoke from behind her.

Trixie turned and looked into the brightest pair of blue eyes she had ever seen. She barely managed not suppress a gasp as she registered his resemblance to a storybook Santa Claus. Her hand started towards his beard before she realized what she was doing and she quickly shifted the direction of her gesture, reaching forward to shake his hand. “Yes, sir. It looks like I’ll be your helper from four to eight every day until school is out. My name is Trixie Belden, but it's okay for you to call me Trixie.”

“Well, it’s hard to come up with a more elfish name than that,” the rosy-cheeked man remarked as he shook her hand. “Short for Beatrix?”

“Yes, sir.” She couldn’t seem to stop staring at his beard.

“I thought as much. My name is Nicholas Bishop. Please call me Nick.”

“Um, Mr. Bishop, sir. Don’t you think I should call you Santa Claus?” Trixie turned bright red. “You know, in front of the kids and all?”

“Oh, certainly -- Mr. Claus, Santa, Kris Kringle -- I’ll answer to any of those.”

“Okay,” she said tentatively, marveling yet again at how much he seemed like the real Santa. “Is there anything specific you’d like me to do?”

“No,” he answered with a jolly laugh. “Just do your best to keep them happy and calm while they wait.”

That first afternoon was confusing. When Trixie arrived home, she wanted to fall into bed and sleep. She was too tired to eat the shepherd’s pie her mother had left warming in the oven for her. She could barely stay awake long enough to brush her teeth and wash her face before she fell into bed, dreaming about Santa and mobs of small children.

The next afternoon wasn’t much better, but Trixie realized that Mr. Cornelius was pleased with the way she was managing her job and found that he quit checking on her every half hour. That evening when she was leaving she noticed several extra benches in the storeroom from a previous Christmas. She mentioned to Mr. Bishop how much better they could be used, and when she arrived the following afternoon they were set up around Santa’s station.

She looked at the benches and then at Mr. Bishop. He gave her a nod and returned his attention to the small girl sitting on his lap.

The next day, Nicholas Bishop handed her a sack full of multi-sized red and green magnets, mixed with silver balls.

“What are these for?” she asked, looking at him in amazement.

“Hand them out to the kids, while they wait. I understand you asked Mr. Cornelius for something to give them. These will keep them occupied. The smaller children should get the bigger magnets, for safety.”

“Wow! These are neat!” Trixie began to play with a handful of the magnets. “Where did you get them?”

“The dollar store sells small bags for a dollar each. Kids love ‘em. Crimper’s sells larger kits with lots of magnets, balls, and sticks. Mr. Cornelius thinks these are a marketing tool to help him sell more toys.” Nick chuckled.

Trixie blinked; his chuckle was amazingly similar to ho, ho, ho!

“Ready to get to work, elf-Trixie?”

And so it went. The two of them worked seamlessly together. They took their breaks together in the back room behind Crimper’s tea room, where they wouldn’t be spotted. Customers and kids were informed by appropriate signage that they were feeding the reindeer and would return. The pair chattered nonstop as they ate.

“How did you get Mr. Cornelius to agree to the benches?” Trixie asked him as she sipped a strawberry soda.

“I didn’t ask him,” Mr. Bishop replied with his unusual ho-ho-ho chuckle. “I pulled the benches out there yesterday. After a couple of mothers stopped to tell Mr. Cornelius how much they appreciated Crimper’s thoughtfulness, he thought it was his own idea.”

“And you did the same thing with the magnets,” Trixie marveled.

“Don’t you think that Christmas should be a time for life to be easier for everyone, instead of feeling stressed out with the buying, wrapping and giving of gifts? Why, there are whole families who go in debt for an entire year just to buy each other lavish Christmas gifts, things they know they can’t afford. That’s not what Christmas is all about.”

“But I like watching people open the gifts that I give them,” Trixie protested. “It’s one of my favorite parts of Christmas.”

Nicholas studied her thoughtfully. His cup of cocoa sat steaming in front of him, untouched, as he tapped his finger along side of his nose. “Tell me something, elf-Trixie. Why did you take this job?”

Trixie launched into a long explanation of the history of the Bob-Whites, their beloved station wagon and how the three girls were trying to earn enough money to cover the insurance bill to surprise the boys. “Not to mention, I do want to buy my friends presents. The Bob-Whites like to do a gift exchange of some kind each year.”

“What kind of gifts do you like to give each other?”

“Oh different things. The best was the year we spent Christmas in Arizona!” Trixie described the little gifts they had given each other that year.

“Have you ever considered doing something similar?” Mr. Bishop asked, his head tilting to one side.

“What do you mean? Do the little gifts as a group again?” She peered into her soda glass, disappointed it was already empty.

“At Christmas, it isn’t the cost of the gift that’s important; it’s the thought behind the gift.”

“But it’s so hard to find something nice for less than twenty dollars,” Trixie protested.

“Hmmm. I’d venture to guess that you could give every single one of your friends and family a gift and spend no more than a dollar on each of them.” Nicholas Bishop leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers as he looked at Trixie.

“A dollar! That’s impossible!” she sputtered.

“No, it’s not. I’d venture that those gifts you told me about in Arizona were very inexpensive.” His eyes twinkled as his forefingers tapped together.

“Well, yes… but that was different!”

He shook his head. “You put the thought into it, that’s what was different. I challenge you, elf-Trixie, you and your friends. Put some thought into your gifts.”

They had returned to work then, but Trixie relayed the entire conversation to Honey and Diana the next day at lunch. By the end of the day, the three girls agreed that they would spend no more than one dollar per person. Trixie was to let her brothers know, Diana would get in touch with Dan, and Honey was responsible for getting word to Jim.

“You have to admit,” Trixie said as they dropped Diana off at her house, “it’s going to make for an interesting gift exchange.”

"What time did Jim say he’d be home?” Trixie asked Honey, as she impatiently surfed through a dozen or more channels on the Wheeler’s large screen plasma television.

“He said he’d be here between eleven and twelve, the same as the last three times you asked me that question.” Honey grinned. “You’re not excited about him coming home or anything, are you?”

Trixie blushed. It seemed strange at times having a boyfriend who was in college, but until this term, Jim had always managed to make it home at least once a month. Between his visits, email and phone calls, they made the long-distance thing work. This last semester, Jim was working at a special-needs school in Utah. His visits home were no longer feasible, not even for Thanksgiving. He wasn’t permitted access to email and telephones, unless he was off the school property. Their primary form of communication had shifted to letters. Jim’s last letter, written after Thanksgiving weekend, hadn’t helped Trixie miss him any less.

“Oh, Honey. I’ll just die if his plane is late. I can barely stay awake right now and I have to be at work by ten in the morning.”

“Have you told Jim about your job?” Honey asked.

“If he got my email, he’ll know, but I cut it close. I don’t know if he had a chance to go back to the library in town to check email again or not. There hasn’t been time to write him a letter for over a week, and I haven’t talked to him on the phone. He called one night, but I was working. Thank heavens Moms didn’t tell him I was the Crimper’s elf!”

Honey snorted. “Trixie, the only person who thinks your job is odd, is you! You look cute and you have to admit, since you and good ole’ Saint Nick started working together to combat Mr. Cornelius the Scrooge, you love it.”

“What did you call him?” Trixie straightened.

“Who – Mr. Cornelius?” Honey asked, confused at the question.

“Santa, you know – Nicholas Bishop. Did you call him Saint Nick?”

“Well, yes. You don’t think Nicholas is his real name, do you?”

Trixie flushed. “Yes. I looked at his timecard one day to see. His name is Nicholas M. Bishop. It’s not that unusual, not like Kris Kringle or something.”

Honey’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, but that doesn’t seem so ordinary. What’s the M stand for?”

“Madeleine, maybe,” Trixie teased. “I don’t know, Honey. It didn’t seem to stand for mysterious to me. Do you want me to ask him? He won’t mind.”

“Sure, if you think of it,” Honey nodded. “You think he’s the real thing, don’t you?”

Trixie’s face reddened. “He’s unbelievable with those kids. A few have come back to see him more than once and he remembered them from before… and get this, he remembered everything they asked him for!”

“Hmm.”

“Then there’s the whole thing with the magnets,” Trixie added as she changed the television station again.

“What magnets?”

“Nick brought in this sack of green and red magnets with silver balls and told me to hand them out to the kids in line. They’re really fun and the kids love them. There are some bigger ones that I give to little kids that might put things in their mouth and then smaller ones for the bigger kids.”

“Sounds neat, like some of those magnet toys.” They sound just like the magnet toys Trixie and Di bought at the Dollar Store for their little brothers’ Christmas presents! “What’s unusual about the magnets?”

“I’ll bet I’ve given away hundreds of those things and the sack has never been refilled.” Trixie explained. “I’ve never seen Mr. Bishop or anyone bring any more magnets in to refill the bag.”

“I’m sure St. Nick is just bringing more in every day,” Honey suggested.

Trixie shook her head. “I… I just don’t think so.” She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to talk about Nicholas any more. “What time is it now?” Trixie demanded as she threw down the remote in disgust. “Jim is never going to get here. His plane must have been delayed.”

“Actually, it was early.” The husky voice was tinged with humor.

“Jim!” Trixie leaped to her feet and was across the room in a flash.

Jim wasted no time with words. In fact, he managed to take a couple of steps towards the lively bundle of energy that had been launched in his direction, before enveloping an eager Trixie in his arms and claiming her lips. He didn’t even bother with the mistletoe he had stashed in his pocket in case he needed an excuse to kiss her. Trixie’s arms immediately twined around his neck and the close contact with her body unleashed an ache he hadn’t expected. The vanilla scent of her shampoo assaulted his senses and served as another reminder of her. Despite Honey’s presence -- and in his subconscious he knew his sister was taking copious notes -- he couldn’t seem to stop.

Trixie’s head tipped backward and she welcomed the onslaught of kissing. Jim’s embrace had lifted her up so her feet no longer touched the floor. When he finally released her, he was relieved to see the china blue eyes glazed with desire, as she favored him with an irresistible smile.

Honey grinned shamelessly as she watched her brother and best friend, not the least bit embarrassed to witness their reunion. “So,” she began, glancing at her watch. “That might be a new record for the two of you.”

“Whatever you say, sis,” Jim said with a weak smile. “I lost count. It’s good to see you.”

“But not as good as it is to see your girlfriend,” she teased. “She gets hugs and kisses while I just get a hello from across the room.”

Jim took a half step back and ran his fingers through his hair. His expression changed to one of chagrin. “Honey, I’m sor---“

“I was teasing!” she interrupted. “It’s good to have you home, dear brother of mine. I wasn’t expecting for you to give me such wonderful blackmail material so soon. Wait until I tell the rest of the Bob-Whites about your reunion with Trixie. I think Brian in particular will find it pretty interesting.”

Jim gave her a mock glare before pulling her into a hug. “Revenge will be sweet. One day the tables will be turned and you’ll need me covering for you.”

“Hmmm, maybe,” Honey admitted, giving Trixie a wink. “But if you could find the time tomorrow to help me wash The Beast, I’d forget everything I saw here tonight.”

“That’s blackmail,” Jim protested. “My own sister wouldn’t resort to blackmail.”

“Sure she would,” Honey contradicted, giggling

Jim gave Honey another quick hug. “You girls wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed seeing you.”

“We might, just a little,” Trixie answered. “After all, we missed you as well.”

“Well... some of us missed you in one way and others entirely differently,” Honey affirmed.

“Oh? And how did my little full-blooded adopted sister miss me?” Jim flicked Honey’s hair, just to mess it up from its typical perfect state.

“Well... there was the night when we had lima beans and I had to eat every one since you weren’t around to surreptitiously arrange for most of them to end up on your plate.”

“I promise to handle all lima beans between now and Christmas,” Jim avowed.

“Between now and New Year’s,” Honey countered.

Jim shook his head. “My own full-blooded adopted sister, resorting to blackmail, it’s unbelievable.”

Honey giggled. “Deal or no deal?”

“Deal – so long as you promise there’s something to eat around here. I grabbed an earlier connection and now I’m starving.”

“Cook left some stuff for us in the kitchen if you want to go eat.”

Jim looked back and forth between the girls. The delight on both their faces was obvious. Trixie’s eyes were still brimming with desire, while Honey’s were full of pride at her brother. It was good to be home. “Come on, then.” Jim hooked an arm through Honey’s and then turned and did the same to Trixie. “Let’s go to the kitchen and see if there are any lima beans.”

Eventually, Honey persuaded Jim and Trixie that she really was tired and ready for bed, and escaped to her room.

Sitting together in the Manor House kitchen, Trixie and Jim continued to talk.

“Tell me everything I’ve missed!” Jim begged as he pulled her onto his lap. “Every minor detail, from Regan’s last lecture about not exercising the horses to your final exams. I’ve missed hearing the particulars this semester.”

“Well, I haven’t exercised the horses in forever,” Trixie said, expelling a breath. “I have a job working at Crimper’s Department Store.”

“You’re doing what?” he said, his jaw dropping.

“I’m working,” she explained. “It’s just until Christmas.”

“How much do you work each day?”

“Now that school is out, I’ve been working from ten to eight. I get a long lunch and supper break. The pay is really good.”

“What made you decide to get a job?” he murmured, placing a kiss on her neck.

Trixie attempted a shrug, something that was very difficult with Jim nuzzling her neck. “The money is handy this time of year, not to mention the college fund. You know the schools I want are expensive.” She giggled, unable to continue. “Jim, did you want to talk or fool around?”

“Can’t we do both?” he inquired with a false air of innocence. “I can catch up on your life and catch up on my love life at the same time.”

“You’re distracting me,” she protested, grabbing his hands and holding them still. It wasn’t too difficult, since they were locked around her waist and had been fumbling at her sweater.

“It sure sounds like a lot of hours to stand around and wrap gifts,” Jim grinned, rubbing noses with her. “Of course, you’re probably wrapping presents like a Christmas elf on speed.”

Trixie flushed. “Yes, something like that,” she mumbled, resting her head on Jim’s chest.

“Tell me about this new gift exchange twist,” he said, freeing one of his hands to give his favorite curl a tug. “Honey’s email said something about a one dollar limit per person.”

“Oh! You did get it then.” Trixie brightened. “Honey was really worried you wouldn’t get the message in time. You know how we have so much stuff and most of us don’t have the extra money to buy gifts. Each of us would get a gift that cost no more than a dollar. You can buy it or make it, or recycle it.”

“Are you girls crazy? There isn’t anything you can get for a dollar.” Jim protested.

“Sure there is. There’s that new store downtown, everything in it is a dollar,” Trixie said, slipping her free hand behind Jim’s head to toy with the curling hair at the nape of his neck.

His eyes narrowed as he took a good look at her. “You’ve purchased all your friends’ gifts, then?”

She flushed. “No… not exactly,” she said.

“Okay, well… if you’re up to the challenge, then I’m sure I can do it. You said it was okay to recycle?”

“Yes.” Trixie nodded enthusiastically. “In fact, Di has the perfect recycled gift for Mart.”

“What is it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Uh, uh. I promised not to tell.”

He cupped her chin with his hand. “I have ways of making you talk,” he threatened, before he bent his head to capture her lips.

She pulled back and looked into his eyes, her smile seductive. “I’m not telling.”

“Let me try, again,” he replied as one hand moved to run his fingers through her silky curls. He loved touching her, smelling her sweet, sugar-cookie-vanilla-scent, just sitting there with her. His lips parted and claimed hers, teasing and tantalizing her with his kisses.

Then, it seemed, they were through with talking.

Trixie blinked as she pulled on her elf cap, making sure it was secure. She gave a heavy sigh. It was hard to be the only Bob-White working every day. She knew the rest of them were exercising horses together.

“Is something wrong?” Mr. Bishop asked her. She saw that he had noticed her tired eyes.

Trixie gave him a feeble smile. “My friends are home from school. I stayed up too late visiting.”

“Aahhh, this is the enigmatic Jim Frayne, right?” Nicholas Bishop continued, noting her slight pause before the word friends.

“How do you know his name?” Trixie demanded, her eyes narrowing.

“Santa knows everything,” he replied with a jolly laugh. When the suspicious look didn’t disappear from her eyes, he pointed at the silver bracelet she wore every day. “I assume that’s your boyfriend?”

“Oh! Some detective I’ll make,” she muttered, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“Patience, elf-Trixie! You’re tired -- and we have five more days before we’re finished until next year.”

“Next year I’ll be at college,” she said. It was a comment that had become automatic.

“Where?”

“I wish I knew,” she said with a wistful sigh.

“Haven’t you applied, yet? I thought most kids were finding out right about now.”

“Yes, but even if I get accepted, I don’t know if I can attend the college I really want. College is so expensive!” she said a bit defensively. She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have stayed up so late talking to Jim. I’ve applied a couple of places, but I’ll probably end up where I can afford to go.”

“Aaahh, money challenges.” He nodded in understanding.

Trixie shrugged. “I’ve been saving like crazy. Any extra money from this job will go in the college fund as well, but my parents have four of us. My oldest brother is going into medicine, and you know how expensive that is. We’re all trying to do our part.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Virginia,” she answered promptly. “Maybe Michigan State. They both have accredited programs in my career field. I could go on to law school or work when I graduate; I’m not sure which is best.” Trixie was reluctant to admit she applied to her first and second choice schools just to see if she could get in. “I sent my test scores to several places,” she admitted. “But if you can’t afford tuition and it’s statistically impossible, what’s the point?”

“What do you mean?”

“Only ten percent of Virginia’s applicants are accepted,” she explained.

“Is that your first choice?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Trixie’s eyes gleamed at the prospect of attending her dream school.

“There are scholarships,” he reminded her.

Trixie shook her head. “For brainiacs with perfect grades. My grades are only above average, nothing to brag about.”

“There are scholarships based on other qualifications. Didn’t your guidance counselor talk to you about them?”

“Not really. She mostly talked about test scores and grades,” Trixie answered, glancing at him as she tugged on the skirt of her elf costume and checked her shoes.

“Typical,” he mumbled. “Well, grades aren’t everything. I assume you have access to one of those modern computers?”

Trixie nodded.

“Well get on one and Google community service scholarships. From everything you told me about your club, you’d be the perfect applicant.” He stopped as he adjusted his hat. “Aren’t you ready?” he asked, with a surprised look on his face. She was standing completely still, staring at him in amazement.

“You know about Google?” she said, her tone incredulous.

Nicholas Bishop snorted. “What? You act as if I was born in the dark ages. Of course I know about Google, Yahoo, internet search engines, the works. Let’s get to work.”

 

 

Honey grinned as she fed another sheet of card stock into the color printer. Her idea was coming along better than she had dared to hope. With this, she would have all of her gifts completed for the Bob-Whites -- and have nothing left to do but enjoy the remainder of her holiday.

“Hey, sis! What are you doing?” Jim spoke from the doorway.

Honey frowned, sliding a blank sheet in front of her printouts before she turned to answer.

“Don’t you know not to sneak up on people this time of year?” she complained.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Actually, I was thinking, but I need some help with this Christmas gift idea. I can’t believe I have to buy six gifts for no more than a dollar apiece.”

“Well, you don’t have to buy them,” Honey explained. “You could make something.”

“Like what?” Jim looked around the room as if expecting to see something he could make for his six friends.

“Come on, Jim. You can think of something.” Honey shifted nervously in the chair.

“What are you giving everyone?” he asked. “Did you make something?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But don’t ask me anything else.”

“Can’t you give me some kind of hint?” he begged.

Honey shook her head. “No, but I’ll tell you this much. Di made all of her gifts; everyone is getting the same thing.”

Jim frowned. “But Trixie told me Di was recycling a gift to Mart.”

Honey grinned. “She just told Trixie that to throw her off the scent. You know how hard it is to surprise Trixie.”

“Yes, I know exactly what you mean!” Jim grinned and pushed his hand through his ruddy hair. “Honey, please give me a hint of where to start,” he pleaded.

“Well…” Her hazel eyes sparkled. “Here’s one gift idea that Trixie came up with. She sent an envelope full of bookplates she printed from the computer to Marvin Appleton. He autographed them for her and she’s giving them to Mart to put in the front of all his Cosmo McNaught books. I think she figured it ended up costing her about eighty-nine cents.”

“Wow!” Jim was amazed. He had no idea the girls had put so much thought into such inexpensive gifts. “Where exactly did you girls get the idea for this dollar limit?”

“Trixie got it from the man she works with at Crimper’s,” Honey replied, avoiding Jim’s gaze. “He’s practically an expert in gift giving.”

“Sounds like it. What’s the point, though? Seems like someone who works for a department store would be all about the high-priced gift-giving frenzy.” Jim wondered who this person was, and for a moment had to squelch a flash of jealousy.

“No, he’s very down-to-earth. Di and I met them for tea one afternoon. He’s really fascinating.”

“Who is he?” Jim asked, in a vain attempt to be nonchalant.

“His name is Nicholas Bishop. You’ll really like him, Jim. He’s a super nice guy. You should meet him.”

“Yes, I’m planning on surprising Trixie and picking her up from work. We might watch a movie or something at her house tonight.”

“You know, Jim, the movie store over in White Plains has a whole bin full of used movies you can buy for a dollar.”

“Oh? What kind of movies?” he asked. “Saturday morning cartoons and stuff like that?”

“No… really good ones, some of our favorites. They just don’t have the original boxes. You just have to be willing to dig through them and look. They’re all guaranteed, too. Sometimes they’ll even have DVD’s mixed in with the tapes.”

“Thanks for the tip, sis. I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what you’re working on in here.”

“You’re right, I’m not.” She grinned.

Jim leaned up against the corner of the toy department, watching in wonder. He had already been to the store in White Plains and struck pay dirt. The store had a Christmas sale on all VHS tapes -- buy one, get one free. With the money he saved for his six movies, he bought a six pack of microwave popcorn and was giving all his friends popcorn and a movie for less than a buck. I guess those girls really did know what they were doing, and I wonder if old Santa there is Nicholas Bishop.

Trixie was working in perfect rhythm with her Santa Claus. The line moved quickly and the kids were all smiles as they waited. It didn’t surprise him in the least to see her work so effectively, but it was now crystal clear why she hadn’t said much about her job. She’s got to be the cutest elf I ever saw. Look at those legs! Lucky kids…

Jim slipped away and browsed through Crimper’s, wondering if he should buy Trixie a special gift for Christmas. He picked up perfume and sniffed, fingered several soft scarves and even a pair of leather gloves. Now that he understood how meaningful a gift could really be, none of these things seemed appropriate. He strolled around, wondering what she might appreciate that would come from the heart. He stopped as he heard one of his favorite Christmas songs playing. Long lay the world in sin and error pining. Jim hummed along. A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices. He became lost in his own memories of Christmas. Jim shook his head and looked around. He noticed one shopper looking at him oddly. Wonder how long I’ve stood here? He glanced at his watch and hurried back to the toy department. It would be embarrassing if Trixie caught a ride with someone else.

Trixie soon exited, chattering with the man Jim recognized as Crimper’s Santa Claus. He was jauntily wearing a tweed, flat cap and his beard was clearly his own. Even his dark navy pea coat, combined with a maroon muffler, gave him the air of a casually dressed Santa Claus.

“Jim!” Trixie exclaimed. “I’d like to introduce you to my partner at the Crimper’s North Pole – Nicholas Bishop.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jim said, extending his hand and grasping Santa’s in a firm shake. “I’ve already heard some really great things about you from my sister.”

“Oh, don’t think I haven’t heard a few things about you, young man.” Nick shook his hand firmly, the blue eyes twinkling.

Why, his eyes are even bluer than Trixie’s! Jim thought, as he studied the older man.

“I take it you’re here to escort my elf home for the evening?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You two kids be careful, then. I’ll see you in the morning, elf-Trixie.” The old man turned and walked away briskly.

Jim blinked. “I can see why Earl Crimper hired him to be the Santa for the store. He looks real. I wonder what his real name is?”

“Nicholas M. Bishop,” Trixie replied. She held up her hand, knowing what Jim was going to say. “It’s the name on his timecard, I already looked.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the M stand for?”

“Mysterious, of course,” she teased as she stood on tiptoe to give him a peck. “I already promised Honey that I’d ask. So tell me Mr. Frayne; we managed to finish early tonight, so what’s on your agenda?”

“I thought a movie and some popcorn at Crabapple Farm, if you’re not too tired.” He automatically looped his arm through hers and guided her towards his SUV.

“I’m not too tired, as long as it’s not an epic-length movie,” she assured him.

Crimper’s allowed employees full access to the gift wrap section of the store. Trixie brought in all her Christmas gifts and wrapped them in the heavy paper Mr. Crimper kept under the table for his special customers and those who wanted to pay extra for gift-wrapping. She was proudest of her gift for Jim. She planned to give it to him when they were alone; as it was in addition to the special CD she had made for each of the Bob-Whites.

As a Crimper’s employee, she was permitted to shop before the store opened in the mornings. There was also a special section in the backroom where damaged and opened goods were kept and marked down for employees to purchase. The three-pack of Brook’s Brothers linen handkerchiefs was normally forty dollars, but a package had been spoiled and she was able to purchase a single, undamaged handkerchief. Using her employee discount, the elegant square of linen was two dollars. With her mother’s guidance, Trixie had painstakingly embroidered his initials in one corner. She hoped like anything that Jim would like it.

Since Mr. Cornelius decided that Santa did not need to be in the store on Christmas Eve, the Bob-Whites elected to have their party that night and attend the midnight church service. Trixie still hadn’t asked Mr. Bishop what his middle name was, so on their lunch break that last day she remembered to pose the question.

“My middle initial?” he asked, looking at her for a moment as if confused.

“Yes. Your timecard, it reads Nicholas M. Bishop. I was wondering what the M stood for?” Trixie asked, before taking a bite out of her ham sandwich.

“Myra – it’s an old family name,” he explained, setting down the glass of milk he had been drinking when she asked her question.

“Nicholas Myra Bishop,” she repeated thoughtfully, after she swallowed. “It sounds good. Is much of your family still around?”

“Most of my family lives well north of here,” he replied as he continued to eat. “I like to take Santa jobs at different stores, in different places. You have to admit, it’s a seasonal kind of job, but that makes it easy to move around.”

“You won’t be back next year?” she asked, putting her sandwich down.

“No, I never work in the same area twice,” he said. “I enjoy the change.”

“If it weren’t Christmas Eve, I’d probably think that was very suspicious and think you were hiding something. Criminals like to move around, use the same modus operandi in different locations,” Trixie remarked. I was really hoping to see Nicholas Bishop again.

“You won’t be back next year, either,” he reminded her. “You’ll be off at Virginia, attending college.”

Trixie frowned. “Probably not. Besides the whole money thing, I didn’t get a letter. They notify everyone by the first of the year on early acceptance.”

“It’s not the first of the year, yet.”

“I know.” She quickly changed the subject. “Mr. Bishop, do you do this every year? Do you have a job the rest of the year or have you retired? Did you go to college? Was it worth it?”

“That’s a lot of questions, young lady.” He blinked. “I do it every year, I’ve done this job every year for as long as I can remember,” he said, sitting back in his seat and linking his fingers together in front of him. “I’ll keep doing it every year. As long as there are children who believe, I’ll be around.”

“But what do you do the rest of the year?” she asked.

“I’m an inventor.” He chuckled again, his unusual ho-ho-ho laugh.

“But what do you invent?” she wondered.

“Toys, mostly, and a few more practical things. Enough that I can enjoy my retirement from the proceeds of my inventions.”

“Would I recognize any of the toys you’ve invented?” she asked, pushing her plate to one side and resting her chin on her hands.

“Oh, yes. The magnet kits were my idea; they’re my latest. The yo-yo was my first.” He stood up. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Nick. May I ask you one more question?”

“Certainly,” he answered, slipping into his red coat.

“Why do you do this?” Trixie smiled as she recognized the unusual ho-ho-ho chuckle that preceded his answer.

“Several reasons – there’s a joy and a love at Christmas that’s simple. You don’t see it any other time of year. At Christmas, people see faith through the eyes of a child and they realize they hold the power to make miraculous things happen. Children have a very simple faith, you see. They believe Santa will come.”

“But…” she protested.

He held up his hand. “Keep faith, elf-Trixie. That’s all I’m going to say.”

Trixie sank wearily into bed. She had completed her last shift as the Crimper’s Christmas elf. Tomorrow she planned to sleep late, secure in the knowledge her gifts were wrapped and ready for giving. The only thing I’ll miss is my time with Mr. Nicholas Myra Bishop. She thumped her pillow harder than normal in a vain attempt to settle into a longer winter’s nap. She smiled as she recalled her parting good-byes with St. Nick.

“Was it worth it, elf-Trixie?” he asked jovially, pulling the red cap off his head.

“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. “Just getting to know you was worth it. We’ve saved enough money to pay the insurance bill and surprise the boys. I’ve spent less money this Christmas on presents than I ever did, and I feel like I’m giving everyone the best gift ever!”

“You never told Santa what you wanted for Christmas,” he commented.

“What do you mean?”

“The one thing you would wish for, anything in the world.”

“You mean like peace on earth?”

“No, I mean the one thing Trixie Belden wants more than anything else,” he said emphatically.

She considered it for a moment before answering. “I have everything a girl could want – an amazing family, fantastic friends, and the most wonderful boyfriend in the world.” Trixie recited all the things she was thankful for.

“There must be something you want,” he declared. “I know -- a fancy sports car?”

Trixie laughed. “But then the insurance would be even more money!” she objected. She shook her head. “I’m lucky, Mr. Bishop. The only thing I could ask for is to be accepted at Virginia.”

“You mean a scholarship?” he asked.

“No, just that they would accept me,” she explained. “Sometimes it’s enough to know you could do something, even if you don’t actually get to do it. Does that make sense?”

Mr. Bishop nodded. “Yes. It’s been a privilege to work with you this year, Miss Belden. May I take this opportunity to wish you a very merry Christmas?”

Trixie flushed as Nicholas Bishop brushed her cheek with a kiss, gave her a jovial look, and tugged the same curl that Jim always pulled. Then, the rosy-cheeked Santa strolled jauntily to the back room of Crimpers.

Manor House became the location of choice for the Bob-Whites’ party so that the older teens wouldn’t have to watch what was said for fear of being overheard by younger ears. Bobby and the twins would be tucked into bed long before the Bob-Whites intended to call it an evening.

Each of them had passed out their gifts, one at a time. Trixie was amazed at how much fun it was to watch her friends open their CD’s. They had exclaimed over them enough that she knew she had a hit.

She had felt the same way when she opened her calendar from Honey, with its attached coupon.

“Say, Honey – when did you say we could redeem these coupons?” Dan waved his calendar. Honey’s calendars included holidays, birthdays, graduation dates, as well as email and mailing addresses.

“Your coupon should have a date on there that it’s good for, Danny,” she explained.

Jim and Trixie exchanged foolish grins. Their coupons were for a day off from all chores. They were instructed to spend the day together, alone.

“Well, I’m not going to worry about using my coupon for a while. I’m going to worry about where to put my picture of the Bob-Whites, watching my movie and eating all that great fudge. Dan, I would have never believed you could make something that good,” Mart remarked.

Dan had given each of them a pan of home-made fudge that he had made, with help from Mr. Maypenny.

“Mr. Maypenny is a good teacher,” he admitted. “I couldn’t have done it without his help. But I did crack all the walnuts myself.”

“I’m going to enjoy not having to look for a band-aid in my dorm room,” Jim said with a grin. He had been impressed with the first aid kits Brian had assembled for each of them. “I’m going to hide mine. I’m afraid a couple of the guys might consider it their own personal hangover remedy kit.”

Brian grinned. “Glad it’ll come in handy. I’m pretty thrilled with all my gifts. This was a good idea you girls had.”

Di smiled. “Actually, I’m thinking we should do it this way every year.” Di’s gift of a framed group photo of the Bob-Whites had been a hit as well.

“I agree,” Brian said. “Just think of the money we saved. We shouldn’t have any problem scraping together enough club funds to pay our insurance on the wagon next month.”

“Oh!” Di looked at Honey and Trixie, who nodded at her. “Well, we’ve been meaning to talk to you boys about that,” she said meaningfully.

“Don’t tell me your girls blew the club treasury on some Christmas project!” Mart groaned, pulling at his crew cut. “You know we have to pay the insurance bill in January.”

“Okay, we won’t tell you,” Honey smiled.

“Tell us!” Dan demanded. “What happened?”

“Well…” Trixie grinned. “We decided since it was only us driving The Beast these days…”

Honey picked up the tale. “…we’d make the insurance payment! So we each paid a third. It’s already been paid.”

The look on the four male faces was priceless. “You mean the three of you…” Jim couldn’t finish, he was so surprised.

“Yep,” Trixie said smugly. “We all took on some extra jobs to surprise you.”

“We don’t have to pay it?” Brian couldn’t believe his good fortune. He’d be able to afford one of his more expensive medical textbooks and not have to borrow from a classmate or the library.

“You girls are incredible!” Dan said, leaning back in admiration

“Yes, we are,” they replied in unison, smiling.

“Say, Trixie.” Honey decided a change of subject was in order. “Did you ever find out what Nick’s middle name was?”

“Yes, it’s a family name,” Trixie answered. “Nicholas Myra Bishop.”

Mart hooted. “You’ve got to be kidding?”

“I think that’s a nice name.” With a toss of her head, his almost-twin went on the defensive.

Mart shook his head. “I’m not laughing at his name, Trixie. Don’t you know what it means?”

“Do you mean St. Nick?” she asked, confused.

“No, St. Nick was the Bishop of Myra. Bishop Nicholas of Myra is widely believed to be the Santa Claus. He was pulling your leg, Trixie.”

She shook her head. “No, he wasn’t!” she insisted. “I saw it on his timecard -- that’s his name. He even told me about how he could do this job from the proceeds of his inventions. Why, he invented the yo-yo!”

Brian, Mart and Jim exchanged anxious looks. Jim spoke up. “Trixie, the yo-yo was invented 2500 years ago. It’s the second oldest toy known to man.”

“But…” Her eyes suddenly seemed moist. “He was so sincere and kind. The children loved him, and he brought in those magnets and they never ran out. He was so nice to me about college, and the gifts… and everything!”

“He’s just another nice man, Trix,” Dan countered. “You won’t always recognize everyone who runs a con on you.”

“It wasn’t a con!” she insisted. “If he said that was his name, then it’s his name. You just don’t understand. Maybe that’s why he decided to do this job -- because his name was the same. He said he’s been working as Santa for so many years he couldn’t remember when he didn’t do it!” Trixie’s eyes had a stubborn look that told the rest of the Bob-Whites it was pointless to argue with her.

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation,” Jim said in an attempt to reassure her. “Come on, it’s about time for us to leave for the church service.

Trixie leaned against Jim as his arm went round her shoulders, pulling her close. She took a deep breath. This is the best Christmas ever! Candles, holly, and poinsettias combined to give her the realization that Nicholas Bishop was right -- Christmas miracles do happen. Trixie’s eyes grew moist as she listened to the final hymn, one of her favorites.

Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright.

The carol’s very existence was miraculous, when she recalled the story of its creation. All because of a broken organ in the church! Now, with the accompaniment of a simple guitar, the words of her favorite hymn helped her to realize that just having Jim and the Bob-Whites was a miracle.

They drove quietly back to Crabapple Farm, giving Brian and Mart a ride home. In return, and to Trixie’s surprise, her two brothers immediately excused themselves, giving them time alone.

“Wow!” Trixie murmured as she stared at the two retreating backs. “I didn’t expect that!”

“What?” Jim asked, pulling her close once more.

“That they would leave us alone like that, and not say anything,” she said, wiggling until she was comfortable next to Jim.

“Maybe they trust you,” Jim commented.

“Maybe…” she admitted slowly. “Maybe they trust you.”

Jim grinned, before dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “Maybe they trust us?”

“Maybe you should let me give you your gift,” she quipped.

“But you already gave me a CD!” Jim protested.

“This is different,” she explained. “This is just us.” Trixie reached next to her and handed Jim a small flat package. “I stayed with the theme,” she smiled.

“Then I already know that I love it.” Jim unwrapped the package and gazed at the handkerchief. “You did this, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “Do you like it?”

“You are amazing!” Jim said in a choked voice. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I ask myself the same question every day,” she assured him.

Jim kissed her thoroughly. “Do you want your present?” he asked, pushing back and taking a deep breath, reminding himself that her brothers trusted him.

“Of course!”

Jim handed her an envelope. “I stuck with the theme, too” he admitted.

Trixie opened the envelope and stared, pulling out a folded piece of paper. She opened it up and stared at it. The paper appeared to contain a detailed itinerary. “I don’t understand…” she said.

“Trixie, I managed to get your parents to agree for you to come to the Valentine’s dance at school next year. Since you’re supposed to be visiting colleges and…”

Trixie threw her arms around Jim, kissing him soundly and preventing any further explanation. “It’s perfectly perfect!” she squealed, kissing him between exclamations of delight. “You’ve given me the very thing I wanted!” More kisses were bestowed upon a grateful Jim. “Jim, you are the most wonderful boyfriend in the world!”

Jim blushed. He wasn’t sure how many more of Trixie’s excited kisses he could take without losing some degree of control. He cast a wary glance at the stairs.

She grinned. “Why are you scooting away?”

“You know why!” he said, giving her the look. “We better take a break before I have to leave.”

“How about some cocoa before you go?”

“Sounds good. You make us some, and I’ll poke the fire up a bit, and then I’d better leave. Otherwise, your little brother will be up before I ever get out of here, demanding to know what Santa looked like and were there any reindeer,” Jim reminded her.

Trixie smiled as she retreated to the kitchen, paying closer attention to Jim’s athletic form working the fireplace than to where she was walking. As a result, she tripped and landed with a thump on the hardwood floor. She was stunned and unable to move for a second.

Jim was beside her in a flash. “Are you okay? You didn’t break anything, did you?”

“No, I slid on a piece of paper.” Trixie sat up and rubbed her elbow gingerly. She frowned as she saw the offending envelope near her foot. “Moms must have dropped one of the envelopes to a Christmas card,” she muttered as she reached for the paper. She picked it up and flipped it over, astonished as she read the envelope.

“What is it?” Jim asked. “Is it something important?”

Trixie looked up at him. “It’s a letter for me, from Virginia,” she whispered, suddenly nervous. “It’s thin.”

“Thin is good, right?” he asked, reaching to give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Not usually,” she said slowly. “Rejection letters are one page.”

“Open it,” he encouraged. “You’ve been dying to know if you got in.”

“Jim, you know I can’t go, right?” she said slowly, looking at him. “I mean, I know you want me to be there, not just because it’s close to you but because of the accredited program and everything. But even if they say yes, I can’t afford it.”

Jim ached. The forensic program she wanted to enroll in was the best in the nation, and yet he knew of all the things he wanted to give her, she would never accept that. She’s too much like me. She wants to make it on her own.

“Sometimes it’s enough just to know you made it,” he said simply. “Winning the scholarship when I was with Jonesy, that’s what gave me the courage and confidence to run away. Open the letter, Trixie.”

She nodded and ripped. Jim cringed at the untidy tearing of the envelope.

She pulled out a single typed sheet and started reading. She reread the words several times before she looked at Jim. Her mouth opened as her heart pounded.

“Well?” he said, noticing how pale she had turned.

“I’m accepted,” she whispered.

“Trixie, that’s wonderful!” He kissed her, a friendly congratulatory kiss.

“I’m going to Virginia!” Her voice was jubilant.

“But, Trixie…” Now Jim was confused. “You just said you couldn’t go, even if they accepted you.”

“I got a scholarship!” She hugged the letter close, as if showing it to someone would cause the sheet of paper to vaporize. “Jim, I got a full scholarship!”

“Trixie, that’s wonderful,” he said, choking. He was so proud of her.

“I got a community service scholarship based on all the work I’ve done with the Bob-Whites and our fundraisers and projects. I can’t believe it.”

“I can,” he said stoutly. “After all, I consider myself to be your first project. You didn’t tell me you applied for a scholarship!” he chided gently, prying the letter away from her.

“I didn’t,” she said as she shook her head.

“You must have,” Jim affirmed, frowning as he carefully pulled the paper from her hand. “They don’t just award scholarships to people who don’t apply.”

“But they did! It’s the Bishop’s Scholarship for Community Service,” Trixie’s eyes were aglow.

“What?” Jim asked in a strangled voice as he examined the letter. “Awarded by the St. Nicholas Foundation as part of an ongoing program of the Bishop’s Scholarship fund,’” he read aloud from the letter.

“It can’t be,” she said, grabbing the paper from him and staring at the words in front of her. “It’s him…” she breathed. “He asked me what I wanted; I can’t believe he did this for me.”

“Trixie, this isn’t possible,” Jim said, practical to the core. “You don’t think…”

“No, I don’t think,” she said slowly. She looked up at him and smiled. “I know.”