It was quarter past dawn...
All the Whos, still a-bed
All the Whos, still a-snooze
When he packed up his sled,
Packed it up with their presents! The ribbons! The wrappings!
The tags! And the tinsel! The trimmings! The trappings!

 

“What’s the matter with your Mom?” Honey asked as she slid an empty pan into the space next to the sink.

Trixie gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“I told her that there was enough food still in the kitchen that she could probably freeze it and then she wouldn’t have to cook for Christmas and she almost started crying.”

Trixie flicked a dismissive hand as she picked up the dirty casserole dish and started spraying it. “Oh, it’s Mart. She’s still upset he didn’t come home for Thanksgiving.”

“But he wanted to come home, right?” Honey asked, concerned over the teary-eyed Helen Belden. “I mean, he had to work. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to come home. He’d be here if he could. Of course he should be here, but since he can’t, well he’s not, right?”

Trixie grinned, following her friend perfectly. “He should be here. Between you and me, I think he volunteered to work the holiday.”

“Why on earth would Mart volunteer to work a holiday and miss a day of feasting?” Honey was shocked.

“Diana’s in Paris.” Trixie replied simply. “Ever since she’s been gone for her junior year program, he’s been in a funk. Dan told me he’s working two jobs now.”

“Oh!”

“Yep,” Trixie nodded as she furiously scrubbed the baked-on remains of brown sugar from the sweet potato casserole. “All of a sudden, it seems like all he does is work.”

“You must be talking about Mart for a change, instead of Brian,” came the voice from the doorway.

“Trixie thinks Mart volunteered to work Thanksgiving,” Honey explained to the dark-haired man leaning in the doorway.

“Once again, our schoolgirl shamus is correct,” Dan admitted. “He’s thinking about one thing and one thing only.”

“Diana,” Honey said, finishing the sentence for Dan.

“Nope. Money.” Dan corrected.

“Now wait a minute,” Trixie blustered. “Mart is the least mercenary of all the Bob-Whites –”

“Do you girls always gossip about those who aren’t in attendance?” Brian inquired as he and Jim pushed in through the back door, bringing in a blast of arctic air.

“No!” Trixie snapped. “We weren’t gossiping. Dan was insinuating that Mart was more concerned about money than his friends.”

Dan held his hands up defensively. “Wait just a minute, Trix. I never said that at all. What I was trying to explain is Mart seems very concerned about earning as much money as he can between now and next summer.”

Trixie frowned. “Why? He’s a senior this year. He’ll be able to start work full-time as soon as he graduates. He won’t need money for school next year.”

“Mart may be attending graduate school,” Jim offered, crossing to the sink and nudging Trixie aside to wash his hands.

“Maybe,” Dan allowed slowly, casting a look towards Brian. “Maybe, not.”

Trixie stood to one side, watching Jim’s freckled hands as she debated pushing Dan, but before she could decide, Honey spoke first.

“Spill the beans, Mangan,” the normally tactful and compassionate voice demanded in a tone that was not to be denied. “There’s something you aren’t telling us.”

“Like you girls tell us everything,” Dan drawled. ““Where’s your beach bum boyfriend, Trix?“ He inquired with a pretended innocence. “Is the surf up and we didn’t hear about it?”

Trixie turned from the sink and glared. “Just because Josh is a pesca vegetarian, you don’t have any right to pick on him. I told you,” she caught Brian in her fiery stare as well, “he’s not my boyfriend! I invited him because he couldn’t afford to travel home to California for the holiday. Moms always says we have stretchy walls. I really didn’t think you’d have such a problem with him.”

“It’s not his vegetarian practice that has us worried Trix,” Dan interjected. “You may not think he’s your boyfriend, but I can guarantee you that dude wants to be your boyfriend! Maybe if he didn’t look so much like he wanted to eat you –”

“That’s enough, Dan,” Brian interjected. “Trixie extended the hospitality to her classmate that our parents expect of us. If she says that he’s not her boyfriend then he’s not. But he is our guest, so ixnay on the ossipgay, savvy?”

Trixie’s china blue eyes glared at Dan, missing the look of relief that crossed Jim’s face at Brian’s words. “Nice try, changing the subject and everything. You must know a lot more than you’re telling.”

“Trixie’s right,” Honey added, taking a step toward Dan, her eyes sweeping the males in the room. “It seems to me that you three know a lot more than you’re telling. Now spill it. Why is Mart so interested in money?”

“Maybe we’re sworn to secrecy,” Dan answered.

“Right … so if we were to guess … then it wouldn’t be telling, would it?” Honey asked sweetly. “Is Mart saving money to buy a car when he graduates? Will he need it to commute to work?”

Jim hooted, turning as he dried his hands on a convenient dish towel. “Why would anyone is Westchester County need a car to commute to work? You two know Mart’s already received two job offers contingent upon his graduation. Since they’re both in the city, don’t you think he’d just do what most people do and take the train? Are you sure you’re going to cut the mustard as detectives?” he teased, flicking the towel at his sister.

Trixie grabbed the towel in time to keep it from popping Honey. “I suppose you don’t think we can guess, do you?”

Jim grinned and cast his eyes at his fellow comrades in gender. “Nope.”

“How many questions can we ask?” Honey said.

Jim cocked a questioning brow at Dan and Brian. The three of them seemed to communicate silently before Brian answered for the three of them.

“You can each ask each of us one question, but Honey’s already used one of hers with Jim and the car question. She has two more and you have three.”

Trixie opened her mouth to protest and demand the typical twenty questions, when Honey answered for them.

“That’s more than enough for us to figure it out. Trixie, you go next.”

Trixie took a breath and looked at Brian. “Is Mart going to use the money to buy something?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately.

Honey jumped in, “Is it something you use up or something that lasts?”

Dan grinned. “It lasts.”

“How long does it last?” Trixie demanded her hands on her hips.

Jim coughed. “Millions of years?”

Honey gasped and her hand flew to her mouth as her eyes widened in realization.

Trixie looked puzzled. “Nothing lasts for millions of years.”

“Several things do. In fact, if my memory serves me correctly, you own one of these yourself.” Dan grinned and shot Jim a joking look.

Trixie looked from Dan to Honey and then to Jim, who was suddenly studying a spot on the floor, a slight flush on his face. What are they talking about? Why is Jim embarrassed? It must be something he gave me… “Oh!”

Her mouth widened in a grin. “He’s saving money to buy Diana an engagement ring!”

“There may be hope for the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency yet,” Dan grinned.

“You mean Schoolgirl Shamuses, Incorporated.” Brian corrected. “Just remember, we didn’t tell you anything. We’re pretty much guessing ourselves. Mart hasn’t said anything to us, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Yeah. Especially since the last picture of Andre that Diana had on her website is pinned to the dorm dart board.” Dan grinned.

“Diana is not serious about Andre,” Honey sniffed. “Andre is just a new friend. Di doesn’t think of him in that way.”

“Did she tell you that?” Dan asked, clearly curious about Honey’s assertion on the status of Andre.

“Um, no…” Honey hedged. “It’s just, well, you know it is. I think that if Di really liked Andre, like you think she might like Andre, then she would have told me and Trixie that she, well…” Honey’s voice trailed off and she shook her head. “No, Di wouldn’t have told Trixie but she would have told me if she thought she liked Andre like that, and she hasn’t told me anything about Andre so if she thinks Andre is hot… not that I think he’s hot,” she added hastily noticing Jim’s expression.

Dan grinned. “Are you saying Andre’s not your type, Honey?”

“Andre is every woman’s type,” Trixie answered with a toss of her head.

“Getting a little superficial as an upperclassman, are we?” Brian teased as he crossed the kitchen and gave Trixie’s hair a tug. “That was done in absentia for Mart,” he explained, squeezing up to the sink between her and Jim. “How would you know he’s every woman’s type?”

“Diana says he’s very quiet, that he doesn’t talk at all when he models for the art students. It seems to me that’s the perfect man,” Trixie said her eyes twinkling.

“Well… you may be right,” Brian said slowly, looking sideways at Jim for an instant and giving him a secret nudge before delivering the final word. “A female that could be quiet would definitely be the perfect woman!”

 

 

“What are your plans for the day, Diana?” Andre asked his attractive American friend, watching as she snapped photographs of three young French girls on their way to school. He moved his head, trying to figure out what Diana saw in the girls. They seemed to be ordinary schoolchildren to him.

“I have to find some more pictures for my photo essay. It’s tough to tell a story and only use six pictures.” Diana clicked again, smiling at the chattering girls walking on the sidewalk.

“Didn’t you have enough pictures from our session to finish your essay?” he asked, pretending to pout.

Di laughed as she gave him a shove. “You know that your pictures were for a totally different assignment. What story would I tell with those pictures? The story of the sullen man who never smiled?”

“You artiste,” he joked. “You are all alike. You want our bodies for one thing, and one thing only. Art.” He shook his head in mock sadness. “Just for once, I would like to be wanted for my, how you say it, sex appeal?”

“Right, Andre. And you want me to say how sexy you are and how I would be lost in Paris without you.” Diana placed the lens cap back on her camera and stared at the girls walking away from them.

Andre gave her a puzzled look. “Is something wrong, Diana?”

She shook her head. “I’m debating following those girls to their school. Trying to figure out how I could use the pictures in my assignment.”

“Oh.” He turned to look at the girls, dismissing them as uninteresting photographic subjects. “You do, don’t you?”

“I do what?” Diana asked watching the girls walk.

“You do think I’m good-looking and long for body, right?” He sounded like a little boy as he asked the question.

“Yes, of course, Andre.” She smiled indulgently at him. “Now, tell me. Where are those girls heading for class?”

“Peut-être le Rivoli école primaire pour filles,” he shrugged. “Pourquoi vous? [i] ”

Lapsing into French, Di struggled to explain that she cared because the small school girls made a charming story for her assignment. There were times when Andre frustrated her. Finally, having enough, Di gave him a push. “You don’t have to come with me, Andre. I’m going to follow them and take more pictures before it gets any later. Mrs. Lambert has arranged for an American Thanksgiving celebration for the American students, and besides finishing this assignment, I have to update my website with my latest photo blog and complete the last assignment from Professor Boicos. He gave several of us some pointers and now I know better what he is looking for. I need to go back to my original shots and rework some of my photo editing.”

“Are these the pictures from my sessions?” he preened.

“Yes,” Di sighed. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along. “Hurry, the girls are turning. I can hear a school bell; I don’t want to miss them.”

“What help could my pictures need?” Andre asked as they hurried along the Rue Malar. “Mon corps est parfait. [ii] ”

Diana rolled her eyes. One thing about Andre, she thought to herself, he certainly didn’t lack self-confidence!

 

 

Mart brushed a weary hand across his brow as he settled down to his desk. A cold turkey sandwich from the deli comprised his Thanksgiving Day dinner. Working for twelve hours at the distribution center for the package delivery services had netted him quite a haul in double-time pay for the holiday. After mentally calculating the cut for taxes and the like, he added the day’s pay to his growing savings account.

It just can’t add up fast enough , he thought to himself as he checked his figures. It’s a good thing I was promised at least 8 hours a day between now and New Year’s Day. It’s not going to be much fun working the swing shift, but at least it pays a little more.

He took a bite out of the sandwich and grimaced. The cold deli sandwich was very different from the food served at the Crabapple Farm Thanksgiving Open House. He couldn’t stomach the thought of the mincemeat and pumpkin pies, the hot savory stuffing, and sweet potatoes he knew his mother had served. He wrapped the sandwich in a wad and threw it in the trashcan. He leaned back and booted up his computer, mentally calculating the time difference between his college dormitory and Diana’s. He sighed as he realized his sweetie would be sound asleep. Maybe there’s an email, he thought as he waited for the computer to go through the processes.

Moments later, he was grinning at the screen. Trixie and Honey had sent him an email asking him the best time to bring him Thanksgiving dinner the next day. ‘After all,’ the message read, ‘if the Mart won’t come to the feast, then the feast will just have to come to Mart.’

He quickly fired off a reply, telling them his work schedule for the next two days. He knew the girls would be giving up a lot. The ride to him and back to Sleepyside would eat up most of their day. Of course, he mused, Honey has that nifty set of wheels her Dad gave her for graduation.

He moved on through the emails, deleting the typical spam dealing with medical concerns he didn’t have and thousands of dollars in foreign banks to find the Thanksgiving emails from Di. She had sent two messages, one just to him, wishing him a happy Thanksgiving and telling him she tried to call several times that day. The second was to all the Bob-Whites sending holiday agreements along with the usual laments about how much she missed them.

There is nothing special about today in Paris. The students report for school, and I have a class assignment that sent me to the streets early in the morning. Attached is my picture of the schoolgirls. Workers are working, nothing is closed, and there is no smell of turkey or stuffing or anything we Americans associate with Thanksgiving. While Mrs. Lambert has arranged for us to have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner this evening in consideration of the holiday, this is the most homesick I’ve felt since I arrived. I keep picturing the open house at Crabapple Farm, and see Mart, Dan, Brian and Jim parking the cars. Trixie and Honey are helping with the dishes, and Bobby and the twins are eating more cookies than any one person should! I miss you all, and while I am thankful for this opportunity to study abroad, today the thankfulness for that is a little thin!

As was standard for Di, she had attached a photograph to her email. He absently clicked the link and followed the website to check out her photo blog to see if she had added any more new pictures. The schoolgirls were cute, but he grimaced as he read the caption: “Andre helped me track down this private école primaire.”

“Andre again,” he muttered, as he clicked through the pages. It was bad enough that Andre was a young, single, male model for the art school, not to mention that Di’s portfolio included numerous photographs of the handsome young Frenchman, but now he was escorting her around Paris.

Mart shook his head. He was working 12-hour shifts from Thanksgiving to Christmas to save money for a ring Di would be proud to wear and she was already sightseeing around Paris with other men.

Mart fired off a quick reply to Di, “Happy Thanksgiving”, before he angrily closed the open email program and then powered down his computer. His original thought of sending Diana a long, informative account of his day at work was gone. Now he had nothing. No Thanksgiving Dinner. No loving epistle to compose. And nothing to do for the next 10 hours except sleep.

Mart pulled off his jeans and fell into bed. It took him longer than needed before the physical labor of loading and unloading packages caught up with him, and he fell asleep.

 

 

The violet eyes blinked as she read the open email. Happy Thanksgiving? That’s it? Di took a deep breath, and grabbed her cell phone. Maybe Mart was disappointed she didn’t call, although she had tried him several times before she had gone to bed. Glancing at her watch, she placed the phone back on the desk. Mart would be fast asleep.

Her fingers drummed the desk absently as she considered her first three months in Europe. She had packed studies, photographs, trips to other cities in France and England, sightseeing, and of course shopping into those months. However, no matter how busy and hectic her school schedule was, she made sure to mail Mart a postcard every day. Well, except Sundays, she mused. But I also send him nice long chatty emails too. He also gets to read the photo blog Professor Binns makes us maintain for the program. Studying her email program’s inbox, she calculated receiving one email response from Mart for every three she had sent. He never bothered to send her postcards, although she had received a Halloween card from him and a couple of quickly scribbled epistles with the promise of “more later” included in each of them.

I don’t call him but once a week, but that’s because Daddy read me the riot act about the international calls on my cell phone. He’s only called me twice.

“Quel est le problème [iii] , Diana? “

The question startled her she was so deep in thought about Mart. Remembering the rules to carry on all conversations with her host family in French, Di replied in Colette’s native tongue.

“Just thinking about Mart.”

Colette knew all about Mart. Diana had talked about little else when she first arrived.

“Is something wrong with Martin?” Colette asked solicitously, continuing the conversation in French.

Diana slowly shook her head. “I’m not sure.” She looked up at the young French woman from her desk chair. “Colette, do you think Mart has a new petite amie [iv] ?”

Colette frowned as she sat on the edge of Di’s bed. “Why do you think this, Diana? Did Mart say something to you?”

“Nooooo,” she answered slowly. “But in the last week, he hasn’t called, texted me or emailed. All he sent me for Thanksgiving was a two-word email wishing me a happy Thanksgiving. I just get the feeling he’s falling out of love. He doesn’t want me in his life.”

Colette shifted and with one leg tucked underneath her, she patiently listened as Diana continued to explain the emotional distance she was feeling from her boyfriend that complicated the physical distance between them. A good friend to Diana, she did not say a word, until Di had run out of steam. Finally she spoke.

“Your Martin, he does not sound to me like the kind of person who would mislead you. If he does not, as you say, ‘want you’, any longer… I believe he would be decent enough to let you know.” Colette’s fingers moved to the air to make quote marks over the phrase “want you” when she spoke. “Hasn’t Martin always been an honorable man?”

“Yes,” Diana admitted. “But—“”

Colette held up a hand. “It was a yes or no question, Di. Give it some time. Will you be going home for Christmas?”

Di shook her head. “No. Mummy and Daddy plan to bring the family here for Christmas. We’re going to spend some time in London and Paris, all of us together.”

“I see. But you will talk to your Mart soon, n'est-ce pas?”

“Sunday. I call him every Sunday.”

“There. You will talk to him Sunday and everything will be fine.” Colette insisted, her hands slapping her thighs. “Now, Mother has asked that we get the croissants. Do you have time to go with me?”

“Yes, of course.” Diana shut down the email program. There would be classes later in the morning, as the French school did not observe the American Thanksgiving holiday. Resolving to put Mart and her imagined concerns out of her head, she moved to grab her coat and her camera. Who knows… I may find a great picture on the way to get bread.

 

 

“Good grief!” Trixie grumbled at her brother. “You didn’t bother to come home for Thanksgiving, not even for the day, and now you’re telling us that you won’t be home for Christmas either.”

Trixie and Honey had made the trip to Mart’s college for the second time in less than a month. This time their mission was different. To persuade Mart to come home on Christmas Day.

“I need to work,” Mart insisted, pushing a hand through his short hair. “I get double time for Christmas Eve. They’ve agreed to give me a double shift, so when I get off I’m going to have to get some sleep. I’ll be there Christmas, just not until later in the evening.”

“Couldn’t you take the train home and sleep there?” Honey asked sweetly. “Trixie and I will meet you at the train station and drive you home. You can sleep until noon.”

Mart snorted in response. “Right. And you think my youngest sibling has ever let anyone in the Belden household sleep past eight a.m. on Christmas morning? Not even Aunt Alicia was permitted to sleep in on that day.”

Honey smiled. “You’d still have six hours of sleep.”

“Come on, Mart. He’s in high school now,” Trixie wheedled. “He’d probably give you until nine.”

“I’ll think about it,” Mart agreed. “Are you sure Moms is willing to let you out at that time of night, morning, whatever?”

Trixie nodded emphatically. “Yes, I’m sure. Brian’s not going to arrive until late himself. Since he’s a third year, he has to take a holiday shift and he’s working Christmas Eve until eleven. We -- well it’s me, Honey and Jim actually -- we promised to meet him at the station. We’ll just wait for you there.”

“Well good luck with that. I can’t imagine why you guys would want to hang around a train station at that time of night.”

Trixie glared as she put her hands on her hips. “Are you going to be a Grinch all day Christmas, or just today? Look, Moms just happens to want to see her middle son on Christmas day. Why, I don’t know, when she has both Brian and Bobby to keep her happy, not to mention me.” Trixie tossed her head angrily. “If you’re just going to pout and mope about the holidays, then make sure you stay far away from me. I’m glad to be home. I need a break from school and studying and some time to spend with Honey and the rest of the Bob-Whites. But if you’re going to put a damper on everything, maybe you should stay here in the city. Maybe you can find a dog to dress up like a reindeer and then when you wake up Christmas day you can start singing like the Grinch!”

Honey giggled. “It wasn’t the Grinch that started singing, Trixie. It was the Who’s. You remember, down in Whoville. They liked Christmas a lot.” She cast a mischievous look at Mart. “Unlike the Grinch here, who did not!”

Mart spoke without thinking. “If all the Bob-Whites were going to be home, I’d be looking forward to it as well.” He flushed when he realized what he had told his sister.

Trixie’s anger dissipated and she deflated like a spent balloon as Honey reached out and touched Mart’s arm.

“We all miss her, Mart. But she wouldn’t want you being miserable.”

“No. She just doesn’t want me. Period,” he said miserably.

Trixie frowned as she exchanged glances with Honey. “What are you talking about?”

“Diana. She doesn’t want me. She only cares about her French friend, Andre. She hasn’t called me since Thanksgiving.”

“Diana doesn’t care one bit for Andre,” Trixie insisted. “Mart, did Di tell you she didn’t want you?”

“No, of course not. But some things don’t have to be said.”

Trixie wasn’t sure which was more pitiful -- the miserable tone of Mart’s voice or the despondent expression on his face.

“What did Di tell you?” Honey probed.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “She hasn’t called me since the Sunday after Thanksgiving.”

“What did she say the Sunday after Thanksgiving?” Trixie was as determined to get to the bottom of what was going on with Mart and Diana as she was any mystery.

“She said I was a pinhead.”

Trixie nodded. “I knew she’d get that about you eventually. But spill it, Mart. What happened that day? Quit making us interrogate you and just tell us.”

Mart sighed. It was tough to have this conversation with his only sister, much less Honey, but somehow he wanted to hear what they thought.

“I asked her what the story was between her and Andre. Why did he have to go with her all over Paris? He’s with her all the time! She got angry and accused me of having another girlfriend. I got mad at her and told her that if I did, she sure as hell wouldn’t hear about it from my blog. She hung up on me.”

Honey and Trixie exchanged meaningful glances. Some of Di’s comments to them now made sense. Honey spoke up first. “Mart, I know that Diana does not feel that way about Andre. She told us…” She stopped, unsure how much she should be involved in this. Trixie wasn’t the least bit concerned.

She hooted. “Say what you want, but there is no way Diana cares about Andre like that.”

“Yeah, well, what makes you so sure?” Mart mumbled. “If there was nothing there, why did she act like I had a girlfriend or something? You both know all I’ve done this semester is study and work.”

“Exactly!” Trixie said, standing up again and jabbing her finger at Mart’s chest. “That is all you’ve done. How many letters did you send Diana? How many times did you call her? Oh, and how many times did you email her or IM?”

“A bunch!” Mart insisted. “I even sent her a card on Halloween.”

Honey tilted her head to one side as she gave Mart an even look. “How much is a bunch, Mart? Di told me she sent you a postcard every day. Lots of them were her own pictures she had taken of Paris, London and the country.”

“Well, I didn’t sent any postcards, that’s different. I did send her emails.”

Honey nodded, and she reached out and gave Mart’s hand a reassuring pat. “Every day, then? You emailed her every day, right?”

“Not every day. But almost.”

Trixie shook her head. “Mart you are a pinhead! Be fair… exactly how many emails did you send, Di?”

“About two or three a week,” he finally admitted. His face was flushed as he looked at the floor.

Honey sighed. “I’m afraid Trixie’s right, Mart.”

“Di doesn’t want me, does she?”

“No!” She shook her head slowly. “You. Are. A. Pinhead!” She reached out and gave his arm a reassuring pat. “But you’re our pinhead. Listen, Mart, I know this is hard. You’re a man and even if you are crazy about Di, you need to try and see her point. She communicates with you every day. She’s in a foreign country. She’s only permitted to speak French in her sponsor’s home and at class. She makes an extra effort to send you personalized post cards every day and jot a note on each one. She emails you every day and calls you once a week. You don’t think that maybe, just maybe, you could have done a little bit more to stay in touch with her?”

“But she’s the one that left!” The words practically burst out of Mart. “I’m the one stuck here in New York, in this crummy dorm with a roommate who practically lives with his girlfriend. There’s nothing to do but work and study.”

Honey looked taken aback. Her eyes sought Trixie’s in confusion. There seemed to be more to Mart’s frustration than separation anxiety.

Trixie bit her lip. “We thought you were happy for Diana,” she finally said. “That you wanted her to participate in this program.”

“I did. I mean I do.” Mart flopped backwards on his bed and moaned. “I want her to have this opportunity. But I miss her. In between working and school, there isn’t time for anything else even if she was in the States. At least when she was at school in Massachusetts, we were in the same time zone!”

“Why are you working so much this semester?” Trixie asked. “You’ve never had the conflict before? You and Dan made more than enough money this summer with your lawn care business to take care of your expenses this year.”

“I wanted some extra money for something,” Mart mumbled.

“A ring?” Honey asked quietly.

Mart stared. “Is there anything you two don’t know?”

“It’s the only thing that made sense,” Honey admitted. “Don’t you think there’s plenty of time to save money for a ring? Diana won’t be graduating for another year after she gets back from Paris anyway.”

“I know, but the ring I saw, it was pretty expensive.”

“Where did you see it?” Honey asked.

“At Tiffany’s. In the city.”

“Oh, Mart!” Honey sighed. “Tiffany’s is nothing but store front. Their entire set up is to cater to the romantic at heart –” She stopped as she realized what she was saying. Then she took a deep breath. “Whatever ring you found at Tiffany’s, I can help you find one almost exactly like it for much, much less.” She leaned forward. “Mother has connections. Wholesale connections.”

Mart gave a weak smile. “Are you sure, Honey? It was a pretty awesome ring. I just never expected to pay more than the price of a car for an engagement ring.”

Trixie choked. “What did you say?”

Honey fluttered a dismissive hand at Trixie. “Pay no attention to that jewelry-phobic young woman in the corner. A good diamond is an investment. But like any investment, you buy low.”

“You are the most pin-headed pinhead I’ve ever known, Martin Andrew Belden!” Trixie folded her arms. “Do you really think Diana cares about having that kind of ring?”

Mart had the decency to look ashamed. “No. She would be furious if she knew that’s why I’ve been so busy this semester.”

“Right. So now that we’ve got that straight, you are coming home, correct?”

Mart knew when he was beaten. “Okay, okay, I’ll come home. I promise, I’ll try and be there as early as I can. But I can’t leave until all the shipments are delivered, I’ve already committed to my boss.”

“We’ll be there to pick you up, even if it’s the middle of the night,” Honey promised, giving Mart a sweet smile. She stood then, indicating it was time for the two of them to leave. “And Mart,” she paused, standing to give him her parting shot. “I couldn’t testify to this in court, you understand…” She waited for him to nod. “But if Andre’s not gay then I’ll personally drive here to pick you up and escort you home on Christmas Eve.”

 

 

Snow flurries fell slowly and easily on the Bob-White Station Wagon. Trixie cast a worried eye on the Christmas Eve sky. “Are you sure the weather isn’t going to slow things down?”

“We’re sure, Trixie,” Dan spoke. “Tom told Jim and me that the weather wouldn’t get any worse for another two days. Now quit worrying. You’re making us all nervous.”

“I can’t help it,” she explained, bouncing on her car seat. “I’m so excited about this Christmas. I love surprises, but I love surprising people even more than I like being surprised.”

“Me, too,” Honey offered. “Your mom is going to be so excited. I don’t know how you managed to keep Mart coming home a secret.”

“There have been a few times I almost let it slip,” Trixie admitted. “How much longer before Brian’s train will arrive, Jim?”

Jim glanced at his watch. “About five minutes. If Mart caught the earlier train, he’ll only be ten minutes behind him.”

“Oh! I hope he did!” Trixie vowed. “What time is your Dad’s plane going to land?”

“They should have landed already,” Honey replied.

“Do you think they’ll get to Manor House before you do?” Dan asked.

“It just depends on the trains,” Jim answered. “Look, that should be Brian’s train now. Let’s go give him a hand.”

The four Bob-Whites exited the station wagon and made their way to the station to greet Brian. He was one of the first people off the train, helping an elderly woman traverse the train steps. Holiday wishes and greetings were exchanged as the Bob-Whites grew to five.

“How long will we have to wait for Mart?” he asked, once they had stowed his duffle and bag of gifts in the back of the wagon.

“If he made the early train, that’s him now,” Dan nodded towards the station. “Let’s go see.”

Trixie squealed in delight when she caught a glimpse of her almost-twin. “Let’s go!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement. “It’s already Christmas Day.”

The five of them moved towards Mart. All of them pleased, that at least, they could spend their holiday break together.

 

 

Mart drained his cup of hot cocoa. Helen Belden had left a large thermos full of the delectable chocolate treat for them, not knowing her middle son would be partaking of the small snack as well. He looked around the familiar and cozy kitchen, noticing that his sister and her friend had disappeared. He heard a faint sound and cocked an ear towards the den. He nodded his head toward the sound.

“What are those two up to?” he asked. “Are they still wrapping gifts?”

“I don’t think so,” Dan frowned. “They mentioned something they wanted to have ready for the party tomorrow night.”

“We’re still getting together at eight tomorrow evening, right?” Brian asked.

“You mean eight tonight, don’t you?” Jim asked with a grin, glancing at his watch. “Honey and I had better scoot. Believe it or not, Mother is almost as bad as Bobby on Christmas morning. She’ll have us up and at ‘em no later than eight.”

“What makes her so eager to get up at that hour?” Mart asked.

Jim shrugged. “She gets to be a lot like a kid at Christmas. Dad always manages to surprise her, and us, with some gift he’s thought of. She really looks forward to that. She always manages to keep things a secret from Honey and me.”

“I’ll get Honey for you,” Mart offered, sliding off his chair. His curiosity had gotten the better of him. The rustling noise had piqued his own investigative gene.

Walking into the den, he watched for a moment as Trixie and Honey were both trying to wrap a large box. “What are you two doing?” he finally asked, as he noticed the two girls move the box easily.

Trixie looked up. “Wrapping this box, silly. Isn’t it kind of obvious?”

“Well, I guess then, why did you wait so late to wrap something?”

Honey smiled. “It’s for the party tomorrow night. That’s all we’re going to say.”

“As Jim so recently reminded my eldest brother, you mean the party tonight. He said to tell you that your Mother will never let either of you sleep past eight,” Mart grinned.

Honey groaned. “Mother is as bad as any kid at Christmas. Can you finish this by yourself, Trixie?” she asked.

“Yeah, I can, because you know what? It is finished!” Trixie exclaimed, flourishing the roll of transparent tape.

Mart crossed and circled the box. “How are you going to explain to Bobby who that huge wrapped box is for?”

“It’s for everybody,” Trixie replied, pushing Mart out of the room, Honey close behind them. “Now that’s all we’re going to say, or you’ll ruin our surprise for the party.”

Jim had Honey’s coat, and together with Dan, they departed Crabapple Farm leaving the three Belden siblings watching and waving from the back door of the kitchen.

Mart smiled, and reached out to give Trixie’s curls a tug. “Thanks for making me come home, Sis. If only Diana were here, this would be the best Christmas homecoming ever.”

 

 

“Mart!” Helen gasped. “What? How?” She threw her arms around Mart, hugging him as she blinked back tears.

“Trixie persuaded me to get here in time for all the bedlam,” he managed as the very breath was squeezed out of him.

“Well, we’re glad she persuaded you, Son.” Peter joined in the morning hugs. It’s been a rough few months this term, huh?”

“Yes, sir. But I understand there are going to be waffles. That should make the late night more than worthwhile!”

Trixie preened as she patted herself on the back. “See why I told you to double the waffle recipe, Moms?”

“Yes, I do!” Helen replied. “And you convincing me that Bobby could out eat Mart, I never even suspected!” Helen crossed the room to give Trixie an extra hug. “Thank you, sweetie. You know how I like having all my little chicks home at Christmas.”

“I know. Come on, I’ll help you with those waffles!”

By the time of the Bob-White party at Crabapple Farm, the young adults were in high spirits. Tentative plans were formulated for the coming days, including the hope for the snowfall Tom Delanoy had promised was on the way. “There’s nothing like sledding down our driveway,” Jim said in satisfaction looking out the window as tiny flakes continued to fall. “Hopefully, we’ll have plenty of time to skate, sled, and ski while we’re home.”

“Yeah, and this is the first Christmas in a while that none of us has had to rush back to school before New Year’s,” Brian said. He turned to look at the plates of food his sister had arranged earlier in the evening. “I can’t believe the girls did all this. I’ve been stuffed since those waffles this morning.”

Dan nodded in agreement. “I’ll take it to my grave how many pancakes I put away this morning. By the time we had started on Mr. Maypenny’s special Christmas goose, I was starved again. We had more tonight, and now all this!” His hand waved over the cookies and savory treats.

Mart smacked his lips. “Since none of you are hungry, I won’t be holding back. Never fear, gentlemen, I can assure you that none of this feast will go to waste!”

Jim looked around the kitchen. “Where did the girls go?”

“They said to wait in here,” Mart answered, grabbing a cookie and taking a bite. “Something about getting a game ready,” he mumbled with a full mouth.

“We’re right here!” Honey called out as they came through the door. “See, Trixie. That’s why I wouldn’t bet you. I knew Mart would eat something while they waited!”

“He’s making up for Thanksgiving,” Trixie grinned. “Come on, we’ve got a great new game to play this year with the gifts.”

Trixie and Honey had collected the inexpensive gifts for exchange as everyone arrived. They had placed them on top of the large box they had wrapped earlier.

“It’s a little bit like Trivial Pursuit,” Honey explained. “You can sit anywhere you want.”

Once the Bob-Whites were settled, Trixie explained that they would ask trivia questions until everyone had a gift. “Once you have a gift you can’t answer any more questions. Understand?”

The boys nodded, and Trixie pulled Mr. Belden in to begin to read the questions.

“What year was the first Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade?”

“1924,” Brian answered.

“Right.” Peter Belden cocked an eyebrow at Trixie. “Now what?”

“Brian, you get to pick the first gift,” Honey explained.

Brian grinned and picked a gaily-wrapped shoebox-sized present. “Now remember, Brian,” Trixie cautioned. “You can’t answer another question.”

Peter Belden asked again. “What famous Christmas figure was created as a promotion for the Montgomery Ward department store in Chicago?”

“Rudolph!” Trixie shouted triumphantly.

“Correct,” her dad smiled.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Mart interjected, his eyes narrowing. He was always the king of trivia among the Bob-Whites. “Who came up with these trivia questions?”

“I did,” his father replied sternly. “Is there a problem, Martin?”

“No, no…” he hastily assured his Dad. “I was just wondering. These are a little different.”

Peter Belden continued until every Bob-White had a gift except Mart. His dark eyes twinkled as he cleared his throat. “I hope you know this one, Mart. Since Honey and Trixie didn’t tell me what would happen if the last person were unable to answer the final trivia question. Who wrote the popular Christmas song, White Christmas?”

Mart almost sighed with relief. “Irving Berlin.”

“Correct. I guess you get the big box then, Mart.”

The large box, Trixie and Honey had been wrapping the evening before was the only gift remaining.

“But… I thought you said it was empty?” Mart gave a confused look to Honey and Trixie.

“It was empty,” Honey clarified as Trixie nodded solemnly.

Mart rose and crossed to the large gift box and attempted to pick it up. He staggered at the weight of the box, and then dropped it when the weight shifted.

Trixie jumped up exclaiming, “Oh, no! I hope you didn’t break it.”

But it was too much. Mart had heard the “hmmmpphh” that came from the box, and he immediately tore the flimsily-taped lid from the top and peered inside.

“Merry Christmas, Mart!” the dark-haired beauty said smiling as she stood and rubbed her elbow. “I didn’t expect you to drop me!”

“Diana!” he breathed, barely able to move at the shock of seeing his girlfriend standing inside a Christmas box. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” she answered. “It is a Bob-White Christmas party, right?” The violet eyes twinkled.

“Maybe you should help her get out of the box,” Dan said, as surprised as Mart had been.

Brian and Jim smiled at their respective sisters. “So this was the big surprise!” Jim spoke first. “I have to admit, I knew you had something special planned for Mart, but I never expected this!”

Trixie and Honey shared smug grins, willing to take full credit for the surprise.

“Help the lady out of the box, chump!” Dan elbowed his motionless friend. “That is unless you want me to help her.”

Mart gave a shake of his head, and pulled Diana out of the box. “How long did you have to sit in there?” he asked.

“Just since right before the game started. Mr. Belden helped me get in and settled before you guys came in and started the game.” She smiled.

“But I don’t understand? Your parents – they were going to Paris to spend the holiday with you. What happened?”

“Mummy got sick,” Di explained. “Just yesterday, no wait…” Her brow knit as she tried to keep the dates straight with the time zone changes. “It was the 23 ^rd. The day they were leaving. Daddy called and asked me to come home, but there wasn’t a flight available until late on Christmas. That’s when Mr. Wheeler came to my rescue. He was in Paris on business, and he brought me home on his plane. Trixie and Honey knew I wanted to surprise you, so….” Her voice trailed off as she shrugged. “Are you happy to see me?”

“Happier than you can ever imagine!” he cried, grabbing her in his arms and twirling her around the den. “It really is Christmas.”

 

 

The night was late, and Mart had insisted on driving Diana home. Honey sweetly loaned him her car with the luxurious heated leather seats, and Dan had taken Jim and Honey home. Mart would return Honey’s car the next day.

“Diana,” Mart said as they pulled up outside the Lynch house. “I’m such a pinhead. We drove right by your house last night, and every light in the house was on. I can’t believe I didn’t realize your parents were home.”

Di giggled. “That was Trixie and Honey’s only worry. They wanted you to get to Sleepyside before me. That way there wouldn’t be any chance of spoiling the surprise.”

“That’s not the only reason I’ve been a fool,” Mart said seriously. He picked up Diana’s hand. “I haven’t done a very good job of communicating since you’ve been gone. You’ve been great, and I’ve been a self-absorbed jerk.

“I let you take the lead on all the emails, phone calls and letters,” he said, softly rubbing his thumb along her hand. “It wasn’t fair to you. I was so focused on working and school that I forgot I needed to remember to focus on you even if you were thousands of miles away instead of a few hundred miles.”

Di smiled. “I forgive you. We’ll talk before I go back and make sure we understand each other.”

“But don’t you think we should talk now?” Mart said doubtfully.

“No,” she shook her head, and scooted closer to Mart. “Now, I think we should use other forms of communication.”

Mart smiled slowly, moving his hands from her hands to envelope her shoulders. “Like this?”

His mouth moved until he touched the soft, familiar lips. The kiss was everything a Christmas kiss should be – full of love and magic.

“Yes,” Di murmured, her arms slipping around Mart. “Exactly, like that!”