"It's our turn to pick!" Mart exclaimed with more passion than expected by anyone in attendance at the meeting.

Outside the snug Bob-White clubhouse, the ground was littered with fallen leaves from the trees that surrounded the building. The wind was strong enough to put a cold bite in the air and inside the faithful heater worked furiously to keep the occupants warm. It was the day before Thanksgiving and all Bob-Whites were present and accounted for.

"Our turn?" Trixie glared at him. "What is that supposed to mean, our turn?" Her fingers flew up and she made air quotes when she spoke the final phrase.

"One of us men!" he retorted. "We get to pick the theme this year!"

"And none of that frou-frou theme stuff either," Dan interjected. "We're going to pick something that doesn't make us feel like idiots when we go shopping."

Trixie's eyes narrowed as the glanced back and forth between her brother and her friend. It was obvious that the two of them had already discussed this and decided to take a stand. Her gaze darted to the other Bob-Whites lounging around the club house. Diana had a wounded look on her face while both Brian and Jim maintained passive and neutral expressions. Honey, however, seemed to have already calculated a response and spoke before Trixie could fire off another sharp retort.

"Frou-frou?" Her tone bordered on icy. "Exactly which one of our previous themes was frou-frou?"

Dan realized in an instant that he had offended Honey. He also knew that getting on the most tactful Bob-White’s bad side was never a good idea. Making a quick calculated decision, he retreated to the theme Jim had nominated a few years previously. "That red and green theme, for example.” He folded his arms before continuing. "Could we have had anything any lamer than that?"

Trixie noticed a momentary flash in Jim's green eyes, but he maintained his passive expression.

While Trixie was observing Jim, it appeared to the others that Diana seemed to relax. She quickly spoke up in Jim’s defense. "I thought the colors were a great theme," she said with conviction. "It seems to me that more than one of you wanted my red and green cupcakes." Di's margarita cupcakes iced in festive red and green decorations had been the most swapped gift that year.

"Thanks, Di," Jim spoke up. "I thought it was a pretty good theme, too. Your cupcakes were the best things I ate that year."

"It was a great theme," Brian interjected, casting a look of aspersion towards Dan and Mart. "All of our themes have been good ones. If I'm not mistaken, Mart's point is that he and Dan would like to choose this year's Christmas gift theme. Does anyone object to letting them select it this year?"

Trixie crossed her arms and sniffed. "As long as the men don’t pick something lame," she replied with a toss of her head.

"I guess we deserved that," Dan muttered.

"You deserved worse than that," Jim replied. He spoke softly so that only Dan and Mart would hear him.

"What is the theme?" Diana inquired, bestowing a sweet smile at Jim. She had overheard him as well. "After all, that’s the reason we're together right now. Not to mention we have to pick a date for our party that's before Christmas this year. Remember, the Lynch family is going to be spending Christmas in Arizona again."

"When are you leaving for Arizona?" Brian asked.

"We leave on the 23rd," Di replied.

Mart frowned. "That means we can't have a Festivus celebration," he said as he pulled out his smart phone with an air of importance that none of them missed. The phone had been assigned to him by his employer and he consulted it so frequently that the rest of the Bob-Whites had come to despise the small electronic device. "Festivus is the 23rd."

Trixie rolled her eyes and snorted. "What a shame," she replied sarcastically.

Ignoring his almost twin, Mart continued to peruse the calendar application. "Is December 5th too early? We could celebrate Sinterklaas."

"The fifth is only two weeks from today," Honey objected. "Some of us don't have the luxury of finishing our finals that early in the month.”

"If we were going to have our Christmas Party that soon, we should've just planned our party for this weekend,” Jim pointed out logically.

"Actually, James – that would’ve been an excellent idea! Unfortunately, it’s a little late. The sixth will be the same, then." Mart scowled as he scrolled through the calendar. "We could've celebrated Finland Independence Day. The Feast of Immaculate Conception and Hanukkah both start on the eighth ..." He paused and looked around the room expectantly. Trixie glared and even Brian was beginning to show some impatience.

"It should be after the nineteenth," Diana suggested. "That's four weeks away and gives everyone plenty of time to shop and finish studying for our finals, at least those of us still in school. What about the rest of you?"

"It's good for me," Brian offered. "My December is wide open ... for a change." He grinned in delight. The Bob-Whites were accustomed to working around Brian's demanding medical school schedule. Now that he was completing his final year, he had more free time. This year the group wouldn't have to wait find out what his schedule would be and what he would be doing and when he would be doing it. The month of December was basically free for him since his time was reserved for residency interviews. He even had the luxury of knowing he would complete his interviews before the college students were done with their final exams.

"Me too," Jim replied with a grin. Now that he was working on his doctorate, Jim's schedule had also become much more flexible. He shot a look at Brian. “It feels good not to be the schedule conflict for a change.”

Honey wrinkled her nose. "It hardly seems fair. Even after graduation next spring, I'll have three years of law school."

"At least you get to graduate and have a college degree this spring," Trixie reminded her. "Now that you and Diana are graduating I'm going to be the only Bob-White without a degree after May." Trixie was enrolled in a special five-year curriculum for students interested in law enforcement careers. She would be granted a master's degree upon completion of the program.

"You're also the only Bob-White without a--" Mart stopped short as he noticed the look on both Brian and Jim's face. "Um, yeah... never mind," he fumbled to collect his thoughts. "That was too easy even for me."

"So does everyone agree?" Dan interjected in an attempt to divert attention from Mart's almost fatal blunder. "Mart and I can pick the theme?"

"Keeping this group focused on one thing is impossible," Jim replied easily. He pointed both fingers towards Mart and Dan. "We all agree you two pick the theme. But first, we have to pick the date. Since both Festivus and France's Independence Day are out --"

"Finland," Mart corrected. "Not France."

"Finland," Jim ground out as his teeth clenched and the rest of the Bob-Whites glowered at Mart. "We need a different day."

"Why not the Winter Solstice?" Di suggested as she looked up from her own hand-held device. "It's on the 21st of December this year and it's a Friday. Will that work for everyone?"

"It works for me," Trixie replied.

"Me too.... Same here.... Works for me..." A bevy a responses came forth from everyone except Honey who was studying her new iPhone 5. All the heads turned to look at her in expectation.

"It works perfectly for me," Honey replied in delight as she tapped the information into her phone's calendar application.

"Now that we have that settled…" Trixie turned from smiling at her best friend to glaring at her brother. "Do you plan to tell us what this year's theme is going to be?"

"Everyone's having a really good year, right?" Dan asked, looking around the room anxiously. Suddenly he wasn't at all sure that he and Mart were on the right path with their suggestion for a Christmas gift-giving theme.

"Yeah ... Sure ... You bet ..." The group chorused in the affirmative and heads nodded in agreement. It had been an excellent year for the Bob-Whites. Both Mart and Dan had graduated from their respective colleges and were pursuing work in their fields. For both of them, being employed brought a tremendous sense of satisfaction.

"We want to do gag gifts," Mart blurted out, obviously wanting to be the one to say it. "Funny, silly, jokes, whatever... just something fun for a change."

"I don't think we've ever done gag gifts," Jim said thoughtfully.

"Well, unless you want to count the year that Brian regifted his wallet," Trixie replied mischievously, a twinkle in her blue eyes as she glanced towards her oldest brother.

“You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?” Brian grumbled.

“No!” the rest of the Bob-Whites chorused in unison. A few years earlier Brian had been caught red-handed regifting an expensive, Italian leather wallet that a secret admirer had left in his dorm room.

“It was a perfectly good wallet,” he protested. “It shouldn’t have gone to waste and Dad really needed a wallet.”

“It was a nice wallet,” Trixie said her voice full of innocence. “And it came complete with a picture of your naked girlfriend. If you would’ve just remembered to take the picture out of the wallet then maybe you’d have gotten away with it.”

The group laughed uproariously as Brian turned bright red, something he rarely did. At the time he had been completely shocked to learn his fellow student was attracted to him, and he certainly hadn’t reciprocated the feeling. Peter Belden, having a good sense of humor, had laughed over the incident. Brian’s mother, however, had been quite miffed at the time the picture was discovered. But after his father destroyed the picture by tossing it into the fire, despite the youngest Belden's pleas to have just one look at it, she seemed to accept the situation for the accident it was. By the time the following Christmas had rolled around, his own mother could tease him about it as well as, if not better than, his siblings.

"Gag gifts will be fine," Brian answered, his voice determined as he steered the conversation away from the embarrassing incident. "But they have to be suitable. They can't be sexually oriented."

"Gleeps, Brian," Trixie said sweetly. “There goes my idea for a flashlight shaped like a --"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dan interrupted. "We all agree we are NOT going there. It's one of the rules, the gag gifts have to be …. suitable. Not to mention, we have a couple of additional guidelines.”

Mart reached down to dig around in his backpack. Trixie watched as he pulled out a stack of shiny, metallic gift bags. She had fleetingly wondered earlier why Mart was bringing a backpack to a meeting of the Bob-Whites. Now that mystery is solved, she thought to herself.

Mart handed the bags to Dan who took one and passed the rest to Diana. "These are nice," she commented as she selected a deep purple metallic bag before handing the stack to Brian.

"Of course they're nice," Mart replied. "You girls don't give us enough credit; we know how to do this."

Trixie sniffed, not for the first time at Mart's self-important posturing. He'd been insufferable since he'd gone to work as a manager for International Pine after graduation. While the job stationed him in Ottawa, he was able to make the drive to Sleepyside in less than eight hours. “You boys need to give us the rest of your gift theme rules,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

“Right,” Dan agreed, anxious to finish the meeting without bloodshed between the two almost twin siblings. "The gift has to fit in your gift bag. It has to be suitable for either a gir --- uh, female or male Bob-White, and it must be suitable enough that you would not be embarrassed to be seen buying it. Agreed?"

Six heads nodded in agreement.

"Allow me to summarize," Mart started with a pompous air. "The theme is gag gifts, the date is Friday the twenty-first of December, and the location is the clubhouse."

"Any other new business?" Jim asked looking around the clubhouse at the Bob-Whites.

"If any of you need a special project this afternoon, please feel free to come by Crabapple Farm and help get things ready for tomorrow's open house," Trixie said, a hopeful tone in her plea.

Jim and Dan both shook their heads, but Jim was the one who spoke. "Normally we'd come help, but since Dad's hosting that Thanksgiving Day hike through the preserve, we're committed to walk the trail and make sure all the markers are in place and no limbs have fallen to block any of the trails."

Mart pointed a finger at his chest and then pointed his first two fingers at Dan and Jim. "I'm with them," he advised. Trixie shot a hopeful look at her oldest brother.

He grinned good-naturedly but shook his head. "No way, Trixie. You pay today and we'll pay tomorrow when it's time to park cars. I’m with the trail checkers."

"Natch," Mart agreed with a superior smile. "At least you get to be inside with all the food while we men do all the grunt work outside."

Diana quickly assured Trixie she'd stop by later to help. "Mummy is sending some food over and she told me she'd need me to drop it off. Your Mom knows what it is, I'm not really sure."

"I'll be over too," Honey assured her. Keeping her face as impassive as Jim and Brian's had been earlier she added. "I just hope that there's going to be enough food tomorrow. I'd hate for the guys to miss out on some of your mother's specialties because they're parking cars."

Trixie suppressed a grin and casually buffed her fingernails on her sweatshirt before answering sweetly. "She did mention that she was cutting back this year. I do hope we can remember to put some back for the men who are working outside."

Mart looked from one to another of the girls, who sat there with innocent but slightly smug expressions. Realizing he'd started on the wrong foot and had ended the same way, he sighed and threw up his hands in a gesture of peace.

"You win!

 

 

Two Days Later …

Peter Belden loosened his tie as he walked into the spotless kitchen at Crabapple farm and sniffed the air appreciatively. "What smells so good?" he asked dropping a kiss on his wife's cheek.

Helen stopped stirring the bubbling pot on her stove and smiled as she answered. "Turkey Noodle Soup. It's ready if you are."

"Hmmmm," he replied as his hands smoothly stroked her arms. "Is that the last of the turkey?"

"Yes," she answered. "This is it. I'm thinking tomorrow you might be ready for a nice piece of beef." Her blue eyes twinkled. As much as she enjoyed stretching the leftover Thanksgiving turkey for her family, by Saturday night, her husband had his fill of poultry.

"More than ready," he agreed. "Who's joining us for dinner?"

"Just us," she replied easily as she resumed stirring.

"Just us," he echoed as he inched closer and dropped a more intimate kiss on her neck. "Why then, are we down in the kitchen instead of upstairs in the bedroom?"

"Because ...." she paused and frowned as she considered her answer. Finally she shrugged. "Because for what I have in mind you're going to need sustenance." She gave him a saucy smile and her blue eyes twinkled. "Eat first, and then I can show you."

"Let me wash up," he said quickly. "Then let's eat."

In short order Helen was ladling hot, fragrant soup into bowls while Peter slapped napkins and spoons onto one end of the kitchen table, his mind clearly focusing on the dessert course of the night's menu instead of the entree. A loaf of crusty bread seemed to magically appear as Helen demurely settled into the chair next to Peter instead of her usual spot at the opposite end of the table. Conversation turned toward the work day.

"Was it a busy day?" she asked, with a feeling she knew the answer.

"One of our busiest," he acknowledged. The day after Thanksgiving, or Black Friday, was normally associated with shopping, sales, and the official beginning of the Christmas Season. For the employees of the Sleepyside National Bank it meant a steady stream of customers. The local citizens were making withdrawals from various Christmas Club Accounts to start their own holiday shopping, borrowing money to cover their plans for the holiday, or loans to cover the spike in new car purchases. “The tellers still managed to plan their annual gift Exchange," he told her. Each year many of the bank employees participated in a Christmas gift exchange. They had themes ranging from Christmas mugs to calendars to children's toys that were subsequently donated to the local Toys for Tots campaign. "This year their theme is shiny."

"Shiny?" Helen asked. "That's different."

Peter shrugged. "I suppose. Whatever makes them happy."

"You're not planning to participate, are you?" she asked, knowing the answer.

"No, of course not." He paused and ladled a spoonful of the rich broth into his mouth.

"It might be nice if you bought your staff a gift that followed the theme," she suggested. Peter always gave a small gift of appreciation to his immediate group, including his secretary and two of the tellers who had worked at the bank as long as he had. While he managed to vary his gift each year, he normally followed the path of boxes of chocolates, fruit baskets, or a generic gift.

"Those boxes of Godiva chocolates are a little bit shiny," he said mildly. Focused on finishing the meal before his plans for the evening were derailed, he quickly swallowed two more spoonfuls of soup.

Helen smiled, knowing the anticipation was part of the foreplay. "That's a bit staid even for you, dear." She sat her spoon down and closed her eyes as she thought. "Those nice stainless steel travel mugs with a coffee gift card would be nice."

"Maybe," he acknowledged. "Don't worry, dear. I'll come up with something." To Peter's credit, he never expected Helen to purchase the gifts for his office. He’d always purchased and wrapped the gifts himself, only consulting with Helen on what might constitute a matching bow or ribbon.

"Shiny would be a nice theme for your wife as well," she teased, thinking of a sparkly bracelet she had seen in the window of the local jewelers.

"Are you still hankering after that stainless steel crock-pot with the multiple settings and timer?" he asked with a smile.

Helen's eyes narrowed. She frowned and placed her spoon down and then leaned towards Peter. "A nicer slow cooker for the kitchen would be a nice thing to have, but not as a Christmas present from my husband," she informed him.

He nodded in brief acknowledgement and continued to slurp his soup, determined to empty the bowl as quickly as possible.

"Peter," she said firmly. "Do not buy me a kitchen appliance for Christmas," she warned.

"But you said you wanted one," he protested.

"And I just said that I didn't want one as a Christmas gift from by husband," she clarified.

Peter continued to gulp soup with only a hint of acknowledgement that he’d heard his wife. His spoon continued to make a steady rhythmic motion between bowl and mouth until it clinked against the glazed pottery bottom of the bowl and the last bit was eaten. He put down his spoon and picked up his napkin to dab his mouth. "Are you done yet?"

Helen sighed. "Peter Belden. I swear to you, if you buy me a crock-pot for Christmas, you will regret it."

He pushed his chair back and stood. Picking up his bowl he crossed to the sink and rinsed it out. "Are you finished?"

She nodded and pushed back. He forestalled her by picking up her bowl and repeating his actions. He then reached for her hand and pulled her up from the chair, drawing her close to his chest. Moving his hands around to her sides, he seductively stroked her back. "Let's go upstairs and you can explain exactly what you were talking about earlier," he whispered huskily, dropping kisses on her neck.

"The reason you needed sustenance first?" She moaned in delight as Peter's hands moved. After more than thirty years of marriage the man still knew exactly how to excite her.

"You ... need ... to ..." he punctuated each word with a kiss. "You need to explain exactly what model crock-pot you want for Christmas."

 

 

Three Weeks Later

 

The radio blasted the most annoying Christmas Carol ever, and Peter Belden punched the radio button. He was beginning to think the endless repetition of secular holiday songs was going to make his ears start bleeding at any moment. He needed to finish his Christmas shopping before the Office Party the following week. He had decided his best bet was White Plains and headed straight there immediately after work. The trip out of town would also give him the opportunity to find something for Helen without her knowledge.

He headed towards a shopping center located on the outskirts of town that should serve his needs perfectly with a variety of stores. The radio began to play the more peaceful sounds of Away in a Manager, and he felt himself relax as he contemplated the theme the employees in his office had chosen. Shiny, he mulled. What could I get them all that would be shiny? While he still maintained a gold box of Godiva chocolates would likely do nicely, he had a nagging feeling that might be the same gift he had given them the previous year, and perhaps even the year before that. Not that there was anything wrong with giving chocolates every year, he reasoned with himself. Most of the women he knew liked chocolate, but one of his tellers had been talking about gluten, and he was a bit afraid to buy a food item for fear of it being something she couldn't eat. He knew he could ask Brian, but for some reason he didn't want to admit to his oldest son he had no idea what gluten was.

Things were much simpler when I could just hand them a check, he reasoned, recalling past Christmas celebrations. But the Banking Commission had issued a ruling advising officers that cash gifts should be avoided. And Peter Belden played by the rules. The year following that ruling he had found himself restructuring the bank's compensation plan so that all the employees received a Christmas bonus and he resigned himself to giving his employees small token gifts.

When he finally turned into the parking lot of the large super shopping center, he saw his favorite home store. Surely they would have something shiny. Tools were shiny; there would be lots of shiny objects in a home store. After parking his car he made his way into the store and grabbed a small hand-held plastic shopping basket. He strolled up and down the aisles, first admiring many of the tools that were displayed as gift ideas for men. He checked out a set of screwdrivers and then a set of wrenches, picking them up and admiring their heft. A shiny hammer was also envied as he wished for a moment that only men worked for him. Of course men wouldn't have a theme anyway, he thought to himself. If it were just men, we'd all go out for drinks instead of this gift giving nonsense.

He turned a corner and stopped at a large display of shiny objects. His eyes lit up as he picked up one and then another. He weighed them appreciatively in his hand and evaluated their balance. It helped tremendously that they were shiny. He nodded. Perfect, he thought as he mentally counted off his employee names. That'll take care of it. Now I can get Helen's gift. He turned and stopped again, a smile spreading across his face.

It was a towering display of stainless steel crock-pots. They were the exact model she had pointed out to him earlier in the year. And they were on sale. Perfect! He grabbed a box and headed towards the checkout counter, congratulating himself on his efficient and expedient Christmas shopping. One more stop and he would be on the road back to Sleepyside. All he had to do was wrap Helen's present and make sure there were enough gift bags for his office gifts. He walked out of the store carrying his purchases without even realizing he was humming Angels We Have Heard on High, the same song playing through the store speakers.

 

 

Thursday, December 20th

Jim leaned back on his knees and shook his head in frustration. "It's no use, girls. Our heater has given up the ghost." He pushed a hand through his russet hair. "We can move the party to Manor House. There's plenty of room."

"Mother and Daddy are having the Rainsfords over for dinner," Honey reminded him. "Maybe Di's house?" she suggested.

"They're probably packing and getting ready for their trip to Arizona. Let's just have it at Crabapple Farm," Trixie suggested. "Moms already told me that she's going to pick Dad up from work tomorrow and then they're driving over to White Plains for dinner and a movie. Apparently, they've completed all their shopping and this trip is to give Moms a break before she starts her holiday baking this weekend. We'll have all the room we need tomorrow night."

"Are you sure they won’t mind?" Honey asked.

"Of course not" Trixie replied. "You know Moms has never minded. She always talks about our stretchy walls. Not to mention, we won't have to haul our food and gifts down here. That will make things easier for Mart since he's driving after he gets off work tonight."

Jim wiped his hands on his jeans and stood. "Sounds like a plan." He glanced at both the girls. "Now that we've killed a tree, what do you want to do with the one Dan and I cut down this morning?"

Trixie chewed her lip as she contemplated the small but perfectly shaped tree the boys had found just that morning. "It almost makes a case for going with an artificial tree each year," she mused.

"No, it doesn't," Jim replied. "Artificial trees are good for people with allergies, but I like a cut tree. Dan cut a tree for Mr. Maypenny. Do we know anyone else who might need a tree?"

"What about Mrs. Vanderpoel?" Honey suggested. "We could take her a tree and decorate it for her."

"Oh, Mrs. V would love the company," Trixie enthused. "Even if she doesn’t need a tree. She wasn't able to come to the Thanksgiving Open House, and I didn't have time to see her. Let's just load up the tree and go see her. If she doesn't need it, maybe she'll know someone who does. "

"An excellent suggestion," Jim agreed. "Not to mention, there might be cookies. If there are, we'll have to be sure and remind Mart about them." He made sure the defunct oil heater was completely shut off and then carefully wrapped twine around the newly cut Christmas tree while the girls repacked the decorations and boxes they'd unpacked to decorate the tree and the clubhouse for the party. He watched as they stuffed the last bit of garland in the box, ready to pick the tree up and carry it to Manor House for loading. Noticing a tissue-stuffed gift bag to one side he asked. "Do you two have your gifts yet?"

Trixie answered immediately in a smug tone. "Absolutely! And it's really good. I hope Mart gets mine."

Honey giggled. "I know what you mean. I was hoping that Dan would get mine. What about you, Jim? Do you have your gift ready for the party?"

"Yep," he replied nonchalantly. "Since we're taking some of this over to Crabapple Farm remind me to pick up my gift and I'll leave it for the party.” He hesitated for a moment. "Speaking of Mart -- How are things going for him with his job?"

"Other than an insufferable superiority complex, I really couldn't say," Trixie retorted sharply. She immediately slapped a hand over her mouth and flushed. "I'm sorry," she moaned in embarrassment. "That wasn't very Bob-White like. But it shouldn't be any secret to either of you that Mart can get on my last nerve quicker than anyone else."

Honey exchanged a glance with Jim before answering carefully. "He did seem bossier than normal at Thanksgiving. Not that there's anything wrong with that," she added hastily. "But I was wondering if he liked his job or not?"

"He loves his job," Trixie replied. "He enjoys the travel part of it and he certainly talks about it a lot, not to mention he’s always checking his email and messages. In fact, I’m not sure that International Pine would survive if they hadn’t hired him!” She rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand to illustrate her sarcasm. “He shouldn't bother me, and I’m thrilled he has a job that he loves, but it drives me crazy that after the spring semester I'm going to be the only Bob-White without a college degree. Mart is never, ever going to let me live that down."

"Maybe for a while," Jim said a grin breaking across his face. "But not any longer than a year."

"Why not?" Trixie answered.

"Because then you'll have a Master's Degree and he won't!"

 

 

Trixie, Honey and Jim arrived back at Crabapple Farm at the same time as Peter Belden pulled into the driveway from his day at the office. Greeting the boisterous trio, he was surprised to see them lugging a freshly cut Christmas tree.

“What are you kids doing with a Christmas tree?” He looked the tree up and down. “It certainly looks like a nice one. Did something happen to ours?”

“No, Mr. Belden. This was the tree for our clubhouse, but since we don’t have any heat, we were going to give this tree to Mrs. Vanderpoel, but she already had a tree and she didn’t know anyone who needed one. So we’re planning to move the party to Crabapple farm,” Honey explained as she shifted the box of decorations she was carrying.

Peter blinked and he digested that somewhat garbled answer. It was a testament to the length of friendship between his daughter and her friend that he followed exactly what she was saying.

"Are you sure you don't mind us having the party at your house, Mr. Belden?" Jim asked, mistaking his silence for disapproval. "If it's an imposition, I could tinker around with that oil heater some more."

Peter snorted. "That heater was on its last leg when Ed gave it to you years ago. I'm surprised you were able to get as much use out of it as you did. Since you kids have electrical service to the clubhouse, maybe you should just consider a nice electric heater for the space, something energy efficient and safe. But by all means, you’re welcome to have your party here. Helen and I are going to dinner and are spending the night in the city tomorrow." He tapped his suit pocket and winked. "Tickets to a play, a little bit of an early Christmas present. I hope that she enjoys it."

"She’ll love it, Daddy!" Trixie said enthusiastically. "And don't worry one bit, we'll make sure we give the downstairs an extra cleaning Saturday morning after the party so she’ll be coming home to a nice clean house."

"Thanks, kids." He noticed the gift bags each of them were swinging on their fingers. "Say..." he nodded towards the bag Trixie was holding. "Do you happen to have any more of those gift bags? There are some presents that I need to get ready for the office party tomorrow."

"Moms has a huge box of them," Trixie told him. "Tissue paper and ribbons as well. Do you want Honey and me to wrap the gifts for you?"

"No, no..." he replied hastily. He needed to get Helen's present wrapped. There would be plenty of time to get them ready after dinner. “Do you know where your mother has them stashed?” he inquired, walking with the group towards the kitchen.

“Same place as last year,” Trixie replied easily. “In her sewing nook.”

“Excellent!” Peter replied, finding himself in good humor with the holiday approaching and all his children coming home for Christmas. “I’ll just slip in there after dinner and take care of it.” He held up a hand to stop them as they reached the door to the mudroom. “Remember, don’t let on to your mother. One of my gifts is for her.”

“No problem, Daddy,” Trixie grinned. “Honey and I can keep her distracted with some questions about the food for our party.”

“Yeah, not to mention what we should do with this tree,” Jim grumbled.

“That’s just the ticket, princess,” Peter grinned. “Now, let’s see what she’s managed to serve up for dinner.”

The group entered through the mudroom and straight to the kitchen at Crabapple Farm. Helen was busy stirring a very large pot of soup.

“Goodness, Helen! Are we feeding an army tonight?” he asked, peering into the bubbling pot.

“Actually, unless we can convince Honey and Jim to stay for dinner, it’s just the five of us,” she replied. “Brian went with Bobby to eat at the Lynch house, and then they’re all going to watch the Christmas program the girls are participating in, a play, I think they said.” She turned and smiled at Honey and Jim. “I hope you’ll join us for supper, just soup and toasted sandwiches.”

“It smells wonderful, Mrs. Belden,” Jim enthused. “We’d love to join you.”

“By any chance do you need an extra Christmas tree?” Honey asked. Jim had left the tree in the mudroom.

“How on earth did you end up with an extra Christmas tree?” she asked.

As the Bob-Whites babbled about the status of the clubhouse heater, the plans to move the party to Crabapple Farm, the visit to Mrs. Vanderpoel, Peter took the opportunity to slip out of the kitchen and wash-up. If his wife kept to her usual schedule, he would have plenty of time to get his gifts ready and to get Helen’s crock-pot wrapped. He’d hidden it in his study, in the tiny closet behind a file box containing some old tax returns. While Helen kept the study dusted and cleaned, she’d never venture into the closet. He whistled as he went about his plans, enjoying the seasonal cheer that his children brought with them when they returned home for the holidays.

It didn’t take long for Peter to finish preparing his gifts. Gift bags certainly made the office gifts a breeze and since each gift was the same, he decided there was no need to write names on the tags. He pulled the crock-pot out of the closet, and admired the efficient-looking appliance. Opening the box he peered inside, noticing the smooth, removable crock. It was just the ticket, he thought replacing the packaging. He wrapped the gift, this time taking a minute to write a sentimental message to his wife on the tag, before sticking a large, red bow on the top. He turned and looked at the line of gift bags, making a mental note to move them out of his office before the night was over. It wouldn’t do to forget them the next morning and have to ask Helen or one of the kids to bring them to him. He quietly left his office, intent on slipping the box under the tree unnoticed, when he heard squeals of delight coming from the kitchen. He smiled as he realized who had arrived and hurried to greet his son.

“But I didn’t think you were going to be here until late tonight,” Trixie accused her almost twin.

“My boss let me leave early,” Mart explained. “Apparently things get really slow around the holiday and we’ve fulfilled our orders for the rest of the month. They shut down production and scheduled plant maintenance. We’ll be off until the day after New Years.”

His announcement of his the long holiday schedule surprised his sister after all his self-aggrandizing about his position. “But … I thought you were essential to the plant operations?” she managed. “Are you really going to be off the entire week?”

He shrugged. “Apparently they don’t like anyone in the plant during maintenance.” He grinned at his sister’s expression. “Hey, I think she misses me!” He announced to his friends and family.

Not willing to let her brother get the last word, Trixie smiled innocently. “That’s just like you, Mart ….” Pausing for effect, her blue eyes full of humor. “You managed to arrange your schedule so you don’t miss a single meal. You’re just in time for dinner!”

 

 

The following evening ...

“Rockin’ around the Christmas tree, at the Christmas party hop …” Trixie sang lustily if a bit off-key. She and Honey were taking care of the last minute preparations for their party. Her mother had just left for the bank to pick up her Dad and head towards the city. It was going to be fun to have all the Bob-Whites together.

“Where are Brian and Mart?” Honey asked worriedly, looking at her watch.

“They’ll be back in a minute,” Trixie answered. “They took Bobby shopping, and then they’re dropping him off at the Lynch house. They’ll pick Di up and she’s going to spend the night with us here. Bobby’s going to have a Christmas movie night with Larry and Terry.”

Honey grinned. “It seems strange to think that he’s older than we were when the Bob-Whites were formed, doesn’t it?”

Trixie nodded. “It seems even stranger to realize that I am, and always will be from here forward, the shortest member of my family!”

Honey giggled. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve always been the shortest member of my family.”

“Yes, but …” she began to reply before stopping and frowning. “I guess you’re right, but you’re also the youngest, where I am not!”

Any further conversation was halted by the arrival of the remaining Bob-Whites. Dan and Jim had both arrived at the same time as Brian, Mart and Diana. There ensued a flurry of Christmas greetings, instructions of where coats, caps and scarves were to be stowed, and other informative tidbits on the timetable for the evening.

“Are you sure we can’t do presents first?” Mart asked hopefully. “Why do we have to wait until after we eat?”

“Come on, Mart,” Honey teased. “What are you, still six years old? Everyone knows you can’t open presents until after we eat. Besides, Trixie came up with a new way to do the Secret Santa exchange. It’ll be fun and she can explain it while we eat.”

“Does it involve stealing presents?” Dan asked hopefully. His record playing the dirty Santa Christmas game had been perfect – he always stole someone else’s gift.

“No, since it’s gag gifts, we thought stealing might not be as fun,” Honey explained. “But it’ll be fun, I promise.”

“What did you ladies cook up for us to eat?” Jim asked, sniffing the air appreciatively.

“That’s part of our surprise,” Diana grinned. “Let’s see if you can guess our theme.”

“Theme?” Brian asked in surprise. “Our dinner has a theme?”

“Well, Mart was so enamored of picking this year’s gift theme; we thought we’d follow his lead and have a theme for our dinner.” Trixie and Honey exchanged knowing looks.

“What is it?” Dan asked.

“You have to guess,” Trixie said smugly. “Just keep in mind; dinner tonight will not follow the traditional order of how each course is served.”

“Meaning what, exactly?” Brian asked.

“You may find yourself having dessert in the middle,” Honey giggled.

Trixie waved toward the kitchen table, and once the males had settled, she nodded towards Honey and Di. Di moved to the CD player and pushed the play button while Honey scurried to help Trixie pull the first entrée out of the refrigerator.

Once she made sure the music could be heard, Di squeezed in between Dan and Brian on the bench along one side of the table. Humming under her breath in delight, she took her pear salad from Honey.

Trixie and Honey both slid into open seats and pronounced themselves ready for the first course.

“This is a pear salad?” Mart asked, poking at his pear half dubiously.

“Points to Mart,” Honey acknowledged as she took a bite.

“That’s not Christmas music playing,” Jim nodded towards the CD player.

“No, it’s not,” Trixie grinned. “It goes with the first course.”

The girls started their salads while the men exchanged puzzled glances. When the song reached the chorus, it was Brian who groaned first. “It’s the Partridge Family!” he pointed a fork at Trixie. “Which means this is ----”

“A partridge in pear tree!” Mart shouted at the same time as Jim.

“Points to both of you,” Honey informed them. “Now eat up, there’s going to be a lot more to come!”

 

 

Helen Belden knew she was leaving the house a bit early, but she wanted to get out of the way back at the farm and leave the girls to their holiday planning. She had to give them credit; their dinner idea had been cute and creative. But arriving early at the bank would give her a rare opportunity to speak with some of Peter’s long-tenured staff. The bank no longer sponsored an after-hours formal, holiday party. Such events had gone by the wayside when Peter began the Christmas bonus program. Not that she minded. The party had been hosted by a bunch of stodgy bankers, so it left a lot to be desired. She pulled open the heavy entry door of the bank, a plate of cookies in her hand. Intent on wishing the tellers, loan officers and other employees a happy holiday, she had barely made it inside when she saw Peter hurrying towards her.

“Helen! It’s good you’re early. Just give me one minute and I’ll be ready to leave.” He seemed oddly nervous.

“But Peter, I’ve just arrived. I wanted to tell your staff ‘Merry Christmas’. These cookies are for them.” To her amazement, he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards his office.

“Yes, yes, well … we’re in a bit of a hurry. We don’t want to miss our train.”

Helen opened her mouth to protest when she saw Peter’s secretary shaking her head in merriment and winking. She then placed a finger over her lips and nodded at Helen.

Understanding that she’d be told what was going on; Helen shook her arm loose from Peter’s firm grip.

“Get your things, Peter,” she said smoothly. “I’ll just leave these cookies with your secretary and she’ll make sure they’re distributed properly.” She paused long enough to see Peter push a distracted hand through his hair and hurry into his office where he began shutting down his computer and tidying up his desk. The bank’s policy did not allow any papers to be left out on desks.

Once she was sure he was no longer paying attention to her, she turned to the secretary and offered the plate of cookies. “Goodness, it must have been some day here at the bank. What’s going on?”

“Thanks for thinking of us, Helen,” Betty Birch took the cookies. She eased one out of the plastic covering and placed it on her desk. “By any chance did Peter tell you what he was buying his staff for Christmas this year?”

“No,” she said slowly. “He didn’t. He bought everyone the same gift, though. Is there a problem?”

Betty giggled something she’d never done before to Helen’s knowledge. A giggle that sounded like a nine-year old girl and not a fifty-nine year old grandmother of twelve. “Once you’re gone, ask him about the gift exchange. Let’s just say everyone didn’t receive the same gift.”

Helen looked confused. “Okay, but I don’t understand, how –” She stopped when Peter exited his office, his coat over one arm and his briefcase in the other hand.

“Are you ready, dear?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,” she replied. She turned and wished Betty a happy holiday. Hearing nothing in the way of a greeting from her husband, she gave him a sharp look and stepped discreetly on his foot.

“Are you going to see Betty again before Christmas, dear?” she reminded him. “I thought you weren’t working on Monday.”

Monday was Christmas Eve and the bank was normally open until noon. Most of the staff would be taking a holiday, Peter included. “No, um, I’m not.” He held out a hand to his secretary. “Merry Christmas, Betty. I wish you and your family the happiest of holidays.”

“Thank you, Mr. Belden,” she replied, a mischievous smile on her lips. “And thank you for my gift. It will be nice to be… prepared…. this holiday season.”

Peter turned a deep red and nodded as he pulled Helen away, hurrying her out of the bank.

“For goodness sakes, Peter,” she grumbled as she finally yanked her arm away. “What on earth is going on?”

“I’ll tell you in the car, Helen,” he mumbled. “Please, can we just go?”

She nodded wordlessly and handed him the car keys.

“Will you please drive?” he asked.

Helen knew whatever had happened at the bank that day had rattled her husband. He hadn’t been this rattled during Trixie’s many exploits with mysteries. She couldn’t imagine what had happened, but dutifully slid behind the steering wheel of the sedan and turned the motor over. She drove two blocks before Peter said anything.

“Helen, do you know what kind of gifts the kids are exchanging with each other this year?” he asked.

“Why yes, dear. They’re doing gag gifts. Why?”

Peter nodded. “I figured as much.”

“How did you manage to decipher that?” she asked.

“Because I gave my secretary a toilet repair kit for Christmas!” He held his hands to his head as if trying to keep his brains from escaping.

Helen bit back a laugh. Clearly Peter had somehow managed to get his gifts mixed up with the gifts the kids were exchanging. As funny as that was, now would not be the time to laugh over it. That moment would come later. “Now, now, dear,” she said in as comforting a tone as she could muster. “That’s not so bad, is it?”

“John received a box of tampons,” he mumbled. “And have you ever tried explaining why a banker would give an employee a silver bullet? Honestly, Helen, I didn't know what to say. It was the most embarrassing moment in my life."

"But you explained, right? It's not so very difficult to fix this. We can just go back to the house and get your gifts and ----"

"No!" he shouted. "We can't!"

"Dear, why not?" Helen was trying to maintain sympathy for her husband, but the entire thing was just so funny, and he wasn't helping her. "Didn't you explain?"

"There wasn't any chance," he mumbled. "Before I realized what had happened, they were having fun with it and exchanging with each other and laughing over it. They even ---" he choked. "They even asked me to do the same thing next year."

Helen bit down hard on her bottom lip and she gripped the steering wheel with a force she felt was strong enough to make a dent in it. It was so hard not to laugh, and then suddenly a giggle escaped.

Peter gulped and looked over at her. Tears were streaming down her face and her body shook silently with laughter as she tried mightily to keep a tight rein on the mirth that threatened. "Helen," he said slowly. "Surely you don't think this is.... funny?"

She couldn't help it, she burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she had to pull the car over to the side and reach for a tissue to wipe her eyes. "Funny?" She finally said in a strangled voice. "It's the funniest thing I've ever heard. It's even funnier than Brian's wallet, and ...." she started laughing again.

"What? It's funnier than what?"

She managed to compose herself and turned to look at Peter. "Tell me, dear, what exactly are the seven Bob-Whites going to be opening this evening?"

 

 

Mart relaxed on the sofa, one of the seven shiny gift bags dangled from his fingers, as the Bob-Whites, full and sated from their delicious, albeit extraordinary meal had completed their game and were now ready to open the gag gifts. He smiled as he thought of his gift being opening by one of his friends. He looked at Honey sitting next to him. "Do we open them one at a time or all at once?"

Honey was in the process of weighing hers and giving it a tiny shake when Mart asked the question. “I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “I guess we could open them all at once for a change, what do the rest of you think?”

“Let’s do it one at a time,” Brian suggested. “If Mart is anxious to see what his gift is, then he can go first.”

“Go ahead, Mart,” Dan encouraged noticing that Mart had a red bag. He was almost positive that was his bag, it had certainly been red.

Mart grinned and stuck his hand in the bag and pulled out a shiny, silver, six inch metal flashlight. He looked perplexed a moment, and then figured the gag would come when he turned it on, which he did immediately. A bright beam blinded Jim, who immediately threw up a hand and gave a yelp of surprise. “Watch it, Mart! That is one bright flashlight.”

Mart pointed the light towards the floor and moved it from one hand to another, expecting to be shocked, or to see a naughty image displayed. Nothing happened. “Well thanks, uh, whoever?” He looked around the room expectantly, but Trixie interrupted. “No, let’s wait until the end and see if we can guess who gave each gift!”

The others readily agreed and Honey went next. She eagerly pulled the tissue paper out of her bag and pulled out a bright, shiny, metallic blue flashlight. She laughed as she showed it to Mart. The flashlights appeared to be identical models, and differed only in color. “What does it do?” she whispered. “Should we open the battery compartment?”

Trixie gasped as realization dawned on her. All eyes turned to her and she said slowly. “If I’m not mistaken, we all have a flashlight.”

Each Bob-White turned to their gift bag and each one pulled out a flashlight. The LED bulbs were brilliant and they avoided shining them in each other’s faces. The only differences were the colors, along with silver and blue there was also a red metallic version. Trixie giggled as she switched her light on and off and pointed it at the ceiling.

“What happened?” Mart asked.

“The joke is on us,” Trixie grinned. “Or maybe the joke is on Dad. I’m pretty sure these are the gifts he bought for his office party. Remember,” she turned and looked at Jim. “He told us their theme this year was shiny.”

“Oh no!” Di’s hand flew in horror to cover her eyes. “Your dad is going to kill us,” she moaned. “You’re never going to believe what my gift was!”

“It can’t be any worse than mine,” Honey consoled. “Someone at the bank has received a roll of monogrammed toilet paper.”

“Mine was a chia pet,” Brian offered.

“It can’t be worse than my toilet repair kit,” Jim grinned, wondering who might have received his gift.

Trixie giggled. “Wonder what they thought of my silver bullet? A bullet at a bank!”

“Your bullet would go well with my beer bottle eyeglasses,” Dan put in. “It would be a bank robbers dream if those two employees put their gifts together.”

They all looked at Mart, who was exchanging commiserating look with Diana. “What did you buy?” she asked him weakly.

“Bacon scented deodorant.” His grin was sickly. “Maybe one of the men got it,” he said hopefully.

“Knowing our luck, one of the men got my box of tampons,” Di shared.

The seven of them exchanged horrified looks before bursting into laughter. “Do you think they told him?” Trixie asked. “He didn’t call home today or anything. He must have realized what happened and called. We could have taken him the correct gifts.”

“I don’t know,” Mart answered. “But I can tell you one thing; Brian will never have to worry about Dad bringing up the regifted wallet again!”

The group dissolved into laughter once more. As the merriment settled Trixie looked down at her silver flashlight and then over at Di’s blue one. “Do you want to trade, Di?” she asked.

Diana studied her flashlight and then nodded. She liked the silver one and the two girls exchanged flashlights, while Dan swapped his with Jim for a red version. Dan clicked the red one on and off and then grinned at Trixie. She nodded slowly as the same idea occurred to her at the same time.

“What are you thinking?” Jim asked.

“Let’s turn out the lights and play flashlight tag!”

 

 

In Sleepyside, Christmas morning dawned as if it has been specifically ordered by the Chamber of Commerce: Bright and clear with a light covering of snow. At Crabapple Farm, true to tradition, Bobby Belden was the first one awake eagerly pulling his siblings from their warm comfortable beds to open stockings and exchange small presents. This year, Helen had sewn brightly patterned, Hawaiian print stockings for her family. With the freezing temperatures outside, the tropical prints brought warmth to celebration.

“Why the Hawaiian prints?” Brian asked his mother, as he admired the bright colors.

She shrugged. “The fabric was on sale and I just couldn’t resist it. Besides, one of these days this family is going to spend Christmas in Hawaii. I just know it!”

Her husband and siblings laughed. “Dear, I do hope you’re right!” Peter remarked as he pulled another gift from his stocking. Opening it, he laughed again. It was the third flashlight, and he was pretty sure the remaining gifts were going to be flashlights too, of all sizes and varieties. Helen wasn’t the only one with a feeling this Christmas. He was pretty sure he could count on receiving at least one flashlight every year for Christmas.

Helen managed to laugh good-naturedly at the stainless steel crock pot that Peter had given her. She had somehow guessed that her many warnings against that very gift would guarantee she’d be receiving it. But after all, Peter had surprised her with the tickets to the play a few days earlier. He had known exactly what to get her. It was later, when they were alone in the kitchen after the presents were open and Helen was checking on the preparations for her traditional holiday dinner that the secret of the crock-pot was revealed.

“Did you get a chance to use your crock-pot yet?” Peter asked innocently.

Helen shook her head. “No, not yet.” She glanced around the kitchen. “I’m not sure if I’ll need it or not.”

“You should pull it out and take a look at it,” he encouraged her. “It’s different than the one you showed me at the store that day.”

“It is?” She looked over at the box sitting on the kitchen table curiously. “I thought it was the exact same model.”

“Not at all,” he assured her. “This one has some significant improvements over the one we saw that day.”

Curious, Helen pulled the box toward her and pulled it out. Unwrapping the padded foam corners and plastic wrap, she pulled it out of the box. “It certainly looks the same,” she said as she looked inside. “Oh!”

Nestled inside the crock was a small, white gift box with a red bow. “Peter?” she said cautiously.

“Open it,” he encouraged as he settled himself into the chair next to her.

Opening the lid, she gave a small gasp. It was a necklace, much like the one she had admired at the jewelry store but had never had a chance to tell Peter about. There was an emerald stone for Trixie, a pearl for Mart, Brian’s opal glowed with a certain fire and Bobby’s added more color. There was her green peridot and Peter’s stone as well. The clasp was adorned with a diamond to celebrate their anniversary.

Peter smiled as he stood up again to fasten the clasp and drop a kiss on her neck. “The crock-pot was meant as a joke.”

“I see, your version of a gag gift?” she asked with a smile leaning back into him.

“Don’t remind me!” he groaned. “How am I going to face my employees at the bank on Thursday? There’s no telling what they think of me!”

“I really wouldn’t worry about it,” she told him. “I’m sure they think about you very much like I do,” she said.

“Really, how is that?”

“A considerate and generous man, with a sense of humor, that’s sometimes ….” Her voice trailed off as she pondered the exact words and she turned to face him, a huge smile on her face.

“Sometimes what?” he asked.

“Sometimes just a crock full of –” she stopped as Peter placed a finger over her mouth.

“It’s Christmas,” he reminded her with a twinkle. “Be nice!”

Standing on her tiptoes, she snaked her arms around his neck and kissed him. “But darling,” she whispered seductively. “I’d much rather be naughty!”