Author’s Note:

This standalone story was written for the Secret Santa Story Exchange for the lovely Misty. For those of you who never had the privilege of reading Misty’s stories… You seriously missed out. Misty, if you see this, we still love you and miss you.

A fire crackled in the hearth of the Manor House’s formal living room, creating an inviting atmosphere. Trixie, Honey, and Di huddled around the warmth, pretending to adjust the stockings hanging from the mantle. Amongst the busyness going on around them, it was the perfect haven for the girls to share secrets.

It was December twenty-third, and the Wheelers had invited the citizens of Sleepyside to the Manor House for a Christmas party. Several guests mingled throughout the first floor of the large mansion, chatting with friends from the community. Desiring a moment to themselves, the girls had searched for a spot where they would appear sociable, yet also have a bit of privacy. The hearth proved to be an ideal place, since most of the partygoers were either eating or standing in line at the buffet.

The Bob-Whites planned to have their own party later that evening. They had all purchased an inexpensive one-or two-dollar gag gift for each club member, and the girls were whispering about what they had selected for the boys.

“Di, I can’t believe you bought Mart a pair of Santa boxer shorts,” Honey giggled madly.

“My eyes! My eyes!” Trixie cried. “My retinas are burning at the mere thought!”

“Shhh!” Di hissed. Though her violet eyes twinkled with mirth, her cheeks flamed in embarrassment. “I don’t want anybody else to know.”

“Well, Moms will sure find out when she does the laundry,” Trixie pointed out with a snicker.

Di flipped her shiny black hair off her shoulders. “Not if she doesn’t wash them.”

“Ewww,” Trixie muttered. Her pert nose wrinkled in disgust as she shook her sandy curls, trying to dislodge the vile thought from her long-term memory. “Mart wearing Santa Claus underwear is bad enough. But the thought of him wearing dirty, smelly ones… Blech!!”

Di placed her hands on her slender hips and glared at her two friends. “He’s not supposed to wear them. I’m just giving them to him as a joke.”

“Whatever,” Trixie murmured with a wave of her hand.

Honey, always the first one to notice when someone was uncomfortable, wisely decided to change the subject. “So, what did you get for the boys, Trixie?”

“I got Dan a hairnet, so his perfect ‘do’ wouldn’t get messed up when he chops wood,” Trixie answered. Then she turned to Honey with a saucy grin. “I found Brian some light brown lip-gloss since he likes to wear yours so much.

“And for my almost-twin,” she continued, turning to Di, “I have a tube of concealer so he can cover up any red spots that mysteriously appear on his neck.”

“Trixie!” Honey and Di gasped, drawing the attention of several guests. The girls smiled sweetly at the curious onlookers, hoping they would appear innocent.

After the excitement had waned and the attention shifted elsewhere, Honey folded her arms and quirked a brow at Trixie. “So what did you get Jim?”

“A fishing lure,” Trixie told them flatly.

“How very Field and Stream,” Di commented dryly.

Honey nodded her head in agreement, and then added in a sarcastic tone, “Yes, a perfectly perfect gift for that dreamy woodsman you’ve been admiring from afar for so long.”

Trixie looked crossly at them. “What? Do you have a problem with me buying fake hellgrammites for Jim?”

“Not at all,” Di said with a smirk. “But if you’d toss out a different kind of bait, you might hook Jim, instead of helping Jim hook a fish.”

“Well, you can forget about me buying him Santa skivvies,” Trixie retorted.

“They make bra and panty sets for women, you know,” Honey suggested brightly. “Maybe you use that as bait.”

Trixie merely growled in response.

“I have an idea,” Di announced grandly. She plucked a piece of mistletoe from off the mantle and held it up. “Lingerie might be overdoing it. You just want to catch your Boy Scout, not give him a heart attack. Why don’t you give this to Jim and see what happens?”

“I-I-I can’t give Jim mistletoe!” Trixie sputtered, her cheeks blazing a brilliant red. “He’ll think I want to kiss him.”

“But you do want to kiss him,” Honey pointed out with a sigh of exasperation.

Trixie shifted her gaze back to the mantle and wistfully traced the letters of Jim’s name that had been embroidered on his stocking. “Yes, I want to kiss him, but I’d sort of like for it to be his idea.”

Honey linked her left arm through Trixie’s right one. “I know you do, sweetie,” she soothed. “But sometimes these honorable boys need a kick in the pants.”

With a smug smile, Diana wiggled the small sprig that she held in her right hand. “Or a conveniently placed sprig of mistletoe.”

“I’m not giving Jim mistletoe for Christmas,” Trixie snapped.

“Aw, c’mon,” Honey cajoled. “What’ve you got to lose?”

“Not much,” Trixie commented dryly. “Just my pride, my dignity, my self-esteem, my—” She stopped speaking as she saw the male members of the Bob-Whites step through the doorway of the living room. “Shhh! They’re coming!”

Smiling wickedly at her sandy-haired friend, Di wiggled the mistletoe again and waggled her finely-sculpted eyebrows.

“For the last time, I’m not giving Jim mistletoe!” Trixie hissed. She frantically snatched the twig out of Diana’s hands and stuffed it in the pocket of her black pinstriped dress slacks.

“Here you are,” Brian greeted as the boys approached the fireplace. “We couldn’t find you.”

Honey rose up on her tiptoes and kissed her boyfriend on the cheek. “You just weren’t looking in the right places,” she told him.

“Why are you over here by yourselves?” Jim questioned. He looked at each of the girls, but for some reason, his eyes lingered a bit longer on a certain sandy blonde.

“Oh, we’re just having a little girl talk,” Di answered with a sweet smile. “Nothing you men would find interesting.”

“So, you weren’t talking about us?” Dan asked with a devilish grin and a waggle of his dark eyebrows.

Trixie snorted as she tossed her curls in disdain. “Yeah, you wish, Mangan.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Honey noticed Jim stiffen as he watched the interaction between Dan and Trixie. She cleared her throat and changed the course of the conversation. “Where have you boys been?”

“Standing in line at the buffet,” Jim answered. “The whole town was in line ahead of us. I thought we’d starve before we could fill up our plates.”

“Mart’s belly was growling so loud that Mrs. Elliot thought a wild animal was on the loose,” Dan teased.

“Hey, I’m a growing boy,” Mart said through a mouthful of food. “Man, your mom sure can put on a spread, Honey. Don’t you want something to eat?”

“We’ve already eaten,” Di told him.

Brian looked in surprise up from his overflowing plate. “Don’t you want seconds?”

“Unlike some people, we don’t make fifty trips to the buffet,” Trixie chided. She shook her head disparagingly at her older brothers. “Good grief! It looks like Moms doesn’t feed us at home, so you’re stocking up.”

“Forry vwe embarrarwaf voo,” Mart garbled, purposely talking with his mouth full.

“But we Beldens ain’t got no table manners,” Brian added jokingly, allowing bits of meatball to leak out of his mouth.

“Gross,” Trixie muttered. “I can’t take you two goobers anywhere.”

“Perhaps if we sat down their manners wouldn’t be so bad,” Honey suggested tactfully.

“Hey, my manners aren’t bad,” Jim defended. “I’m using my napkin and everything.”

Di tilted her head to the side and studied Mart. “Where’s your napkin, sweetie?”

“I think he ate it,” Trixie grumbled. “Let’s go sit down so these monkeys don’t make a mess.” She led the way to the seating area of the room and plopped down on the loveseat.

Honey and Di exchanged a secret smile as they watched Jim nonchalantly claim the spot beside her.

“Gee whiz, Honey,” Dan commented as he moved a Christmas pillow that was resting against the back of his chair. “Your house has more holiday decorations than Macy’s Department Store. I’ve never seen so much junk.”

“Mother would keel over if she heard you call her expensive décor ‘junk’,” Jim said with a chuckle. “She and the maids spent hours turning the whole house into the North Pole.”

“The whole house?” Trixie exclaimed in disbelief. “All fifty billion rooms?”

“All fifty billion rooms,” Jim repeated with a lopsided grin. “Give or take a few.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “And I thought Moms was bad. She loves Christmas decorations.”

“Especially the ones we made in elementary school,” Trixie added, wrinkling her nose.

Mart snorted in agreement. “If I’d known she was going to keep that one-legged gingerbread man ornament that I made in first grade, I would’ve thrown it out the bus window.”

“Or at least not eaten the left leg,” Trixie teased with a wink.

To everyone’s surprise, Mart didn’t take offense at his sister’s taunting. He merely nodded his head mournfully. “It definitely didn’t taste like any gingerbread that I’d ever eaten before.”

“That’s because they were covered with a coat of water-based polyurethane,” Di gently scolded as she gave her boyfriend a quick hug. “The ornaments were supposed to be hung from your tree, not eaten.”

“Tell that to a hungry six-year-old who hadn’t had any sustenance since noon,” Mart stated matter-of-factly. “That gingerbread man was just too tempting.”

Brian shook his head in bemusement. “It’s a miracle you’ve never had your stomach pumped.”

“He’s still young,” Dan snickered as he leaned over to punch his best friend on the arm. “There’s still time.”

“I think it’s sweet that your mom saves things like that,” Honey told them. “Mother isn’t very sentimental, so she never displays the things I made. Why, I doubt she even kept them.”

“I’m sure your mom has them someplace, Hon,” Trixie assured, giving her friend a consoling hug.

“Of course she does!” Di chimed. “She probably has them packed away for safekeeping.”

Honey furrowed her brows as she looked doubtfully at her friends. “Who does she need to keep them safe from?”

“Mart!” Brian teased. He grasped Honey’s hand in his and squeezed it gently. “Mrs. Wheeler has probably seen his teeth marks on the gingerbread man hanging on our Christmas tree.”

“I’ve never made anything edible,” she pointed out, stifling a grin.

Mart merely shrugged. “Doesn’t matter,” he replied good-naturedly. “If I’m hungry enough, I’ll eat anything.”

“What about you, Di?” Jim inquired. “Does your mom still put up the things you made in school, or has she replaced them with fancy junk?”

“The crafts I made in elementary school were lost when we moved,” Di said sadly. “Mummy feels guilty about misplacing mine, so she doesn’t even display the things the twins make.”

“How sad!” Honey exclaimed.

Trixie smiled brightly at her friends. “I have an idea. During our break from school, the three of us could make some ornaments. Then, both of you will have homemade crafts to display next year and can be just as embarrassed as I am.”

“Ooh!” Di squealed in delight. “That sounds like fun.”

Honey clapped her hands just like a small child would, her hazel eyes sparkling from excitement. “Oh, Trixie! What a perfectly perfect idea. After Christmas, let’s have a slumber party and do that.”

“It’s a deal,” Trixie agreed, content that she could make her friends feel better.

“Oh, goodie, Jim,” Dan teased. “Now your mom will have even more crap to decorate with next year.” With a snort, he gently kicked the pillow that he had discarded earlier.

“Crap?” Honey repeated in an insulted tone. However, the twinkle in her eyes showed there was no offense taken. “Are you calling my Christmas crafts crap, Mangan?”

“Not at all,” Dan declared emphatically, his expression quite angelic. “I’m sure anything you make will outshine all these designer decorations.”

“Good answer,” Honey said with a giggle as she leaned over to pat Dan’s hand. “And to show you I harbor no ill feelings, I’ll even make an ornament just for you to hang on your tree at Mr. Maypenny’s.”

“That’s sweet of you, Honey, but we don’t have a tree,” Dan replied matter-of-factly.

Di’s violet eyes were wide with surprise. “Mr. Maypenny doesn’t put up a Christmas tree?” she gasped.

“Nope,” Dan answered.

“Well, look on the bright side, my friend,” Mart said sagely. “That’s one less tree that you had to chop down this winter.”

Trixie cast a mean look at her almost-twin, but then turned her attention to Dan. “How does Mr. Maypenny decorate for the holidays?”

“He doesn’t,” Dan told them.

“He doesn’t decorate at all?” Honey questioned softly. “Not even a stocking?”

Dan smiled sadly. “Not even a stocking.”

“You know, some people don’t celebrate Christmas,” Brian commented. “Maybe that’s why Mr. Maypenny doesn’t put a bunch of junk up.”

“He celebrates Christmas,” Dan informed them. “We exchange gifts, and he always reads the Christmas story. He just doesn’t decorate the house.”

“Why not?” Trixie queried.

“The first Christmas I was here, I asked him,” Dan explained. “He told me that he used to have several decorations, which he stored in a little outbuilding near the cabin. But a few years ago, the building burned and everything in it was destroyed.”

Di nonchalantly wiped away a tear sliding down her cheek. “Didn’t he replace them?”

“He didn’t have any family nearby or any close friends that came over for Christmas, so he never bought new ones. He said it was silly to decorate the cabin just for himself, and I can’t really blame him.”

“That’s so sad,” Honey sniffled.

“Aw, you girls are too sappy,” Mart said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Guys don’t care about stuff like that.”

Trixie snorted in disbelief. “Yeah right, Mart. After Moms puts up the tree, you’re the first one to plug in the lights every morning. And woe to the person who tries to unplug them before bedtime!”

“And remember the year you begged Moms to leave up the tree until Easter?” Brian chuckled. “I think she humored you till Valentine’s Day. By then, that old pine tree was so dried out that Dad took it down. He said it was a fire hazard.”

Trixie nodded in agreement. “I remember that. By the end of January, the poor tree had lost most of its needles. Mart was so determined to keep it up that he watered it three times a d—”

“Okay,” Mart interrupted. “We get the point. Even virile stallions such as myself relish festive garnishment during the Yuletide season.”

“Everybody enjoys decorating for the holidays,” Di said, voicing her support. She tucked her slender hand through Mart’s arm and squeezed it gently.

Honey’s compassionate gaze focused on Dan. “Would you like Christmas decorations in the cabin, Dan?”

“I guess so,” he answered a bit shyly. “My mom always put stuff up in our apartment. We didn’t have anything fancy, but we had a lot of fun trimming our tree.”

Trixie didn’t miss the wistful expression on Dan’s face as he talked about the memories of his mother and Christmas. She chewed on her lower lip as she thought. Suddenly, an idea popped in her head, and she began bouncing on the loveseat excitedly. “I think the Bob-Whites should decorate Mr. Maypenny’s cabin for the holidays!”

“What?” Brian’s dark eyebrows narrowed as he looked at his sister in surprise.

“We have some money in the treasury,” Trixie gushed, her blue eyes sparkling in anticipation at the prospect of a new project. “I move we buy some decorations for Mr. Maypenny’s cabin.”

“Trixie, that’s really sweet of you to offer, but all the stores are closed for the evening,” Dan told her.

“What about tomorrow?” Trixie asked stubbornly, refusing to believe that her plan was impossible.

Jim smiled affectionately at her. “Trix, I’m pretty sure the stores aren’t open on Christmas Eve.”

“Jim’s right,” Di replied hesitantly. “Mummy and I were in Crimpers today, and there was a sign posted on the door saying that all the stores would be closed on December twenty-fourth and fifth.”

“I’m sorry, Trixie,” Honey said. “It’s a great idea, but we may have to wait until next year to get those decorations.”

“We can’t wait!” Trixie wailed mournfully as she clutched her sandy curls. “We have to find Mr. Maypenny some Christmas stuff or I’ll just die!”

Brian looked around the room nervously. “Gee, Trix, why don’t you yell a little louder,” he said sarcastically. “I don’t think the people in the kitchen heard you.”

Before Trixie could argue, Mrs. Vanderpoel, who had been standing in front of the fireplace with Brom, walked over to the group.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, dear,” the elderly lady said kindly.

Trixie was tempted to stick her tongue out at her gloating, eldest brother; however, since Mrs. Vanderpoel was blocking her view, she resisted the urge. “I’m sorry for being too loud,” she apologized. “I’ll try not to be so noisy.”

“Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Vanderpoel chuckled. “This is a party, not a funeral. I didn’t come over here to scold you, my dear.”

Trixie breathed a sigh of relief. “You didn’t?”

“Of course not,” Mrs. Vanderpoel assured her. “Did my old ears deceive me, or did I hear that you wanted to purchase some Christmas decorations for Mr. Maypenny?”

“You heard correctly,” Mart replied. “However, my well-intentioned sibling forgot that tomorrow was a holiday and that the town’s trade establishments won’t be operating.”

Mrs. Vanderpoel smiled benevolently at the group. “I’ve collected Christmas decorations for over fifty years. I have several boxes stored in the attic, just gathering dust. I’d be happy to give those to Mr. Maypenny.”

Dan shook his head. “That’s sweet of you, Mrs. V., but I couldn’t let you do that.”

“Dan’s right, Mrs. Vanderpoel,” Honey agreed politely. “If you gave away all your holiday things, how would you decorate your house?”

“Pshaw,” Mrs. Vanderpoel protested. “I have plenty of do-dads for my home. I keep all my favorites in one of the closets downstairs. I could never resist the after-Christmas sales, so I’ve collected more things than I know what to do with.”

“Are you sure?” Di questioned hesitantly. “What if you need them someday?”

“Oh, I’ll never need them,” Mrs. Vanderpoel assured them. Her eyes twinkled as she pointed conspiratorially to Brom. “Somebody says I have far too many holiday trinkets as it is. He even calls me Mrs. Claus.”

Trixie held her breath as she anxiously looked at her friends, hoping they would be in agreement. Jim laughed as he met her eager gaze.

“I suppose I’d better accept your offer before Trixie explodes,” he said as he teasingly tugged one of Trixie’s curls. “We really appreciate it, Mrs. V.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Mrs. Vanderpoel replied. “I’d much rather someone use them than have them sit there.”

“Thank you!” Trixie exclaimed as she jumped up to hug the old woman. “I know he’ll appreciate it so much.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Mrs. Vanderpoel glanced back at Brom, but then turned to the Bob-Whites and winked at them. “And the best part is that now I can tell Brom that all those extra decorations weren’t a waste of money.”

Dan hopped up from his chair and kissed the old woman’s plump cheek. “Thanks, Mrs. V. You’re the best.”

“Anything for you, dear,” she answered as she tenderly patted his cheek. “Tom is driving me to the train station early tomorrow morning, so Madeleine has asked me to stay here tonight. You children are welcome to go to my house and get those boxes anytime you wish. I hide an extra key in the blue flowerpot on the front porch.”

“We’ll be sure and put it back after we finish,” Trixie promised. “Where are the decorations in your attic?”

“There are five or six boxes by the window. Feel free to take them all, dear,” Mrs. Vanderpoel insisted as she walked away.

After she left, Trixie excitedly jumped up and down. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Mart narrowed his blue eyes and studied his sister with uncertainty. “Go where?”

“To Mrs. Vanderpoel’s house, silly!” Trixie announced.

“How are you getting there?” Brian asked dryly. “It’s a long walk, especially in this kind of weather.”

Trixie giggled nervously. “Very funny, Bri. You’re driving me, of course.”

“Sure, I’ll drive you.” Brian braced himself before adding nervously, “After the party’s over.”

“But that won’t be for several hours,” Trixie complained. “I’ll just die if we can’t go right now!”

“If you do die, can I have your room?” Mart asked with an impish twinkle in his blue eyes.

Trixie cast an indignant sniff in her almost-twin’s direction. “Get serious, Mart. Up and at ‘em, everyone. The Bob-Whites have work to do.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Di questioned incredulously. “We’re not dressed to go digging around in an attic. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“Yeah, Trixie,” Dan agreed. “Let’s enjoy the party, and then we’ll go to Mrs. V.’s first thing in the morning.”

Mart smiled sympathetically at his sister. “I know you’re excited, Trix, but surely you can wait a few hours. We haven’t even opened our gag gifts yet.”

“We can do that tomorrow night,” Trixie suggested. “Isn’t anyone else curious about what’s in those boxes?”

Jim looked fondly at her. “Good things come to those who wait, Shamus,” he reminded her with a teasing smile. “Those boxes will still be there in the morning.”

All of Trixie’s previous enthusiasm began to fade. She looked hopefully at her hazel-eyed friend, knowing if Honey wasn’t on her side, then it was a lost cause. “Want to see if Regan will drive us, Hon?”

“Trixie, I can’t leave the party,” Honey insisted, her tone gentle yet firm. “It’s not even 7:00. Mother would be disappointed if I left so early.”

Trixie lowered her head as she nervously traced an invisible pattern on the area rug with the pointed toe of her black dress shoe. After a moment, she sheepishly peeked up at Honey. “So, you wanna sneak out?”

Honey cast a disparaging glance at her best friend. “Trixie…”

“I’m joking!” Trixie interrupted. “I give up. We’ll wait until tomorrow.” She lowered her head in defeat, knowing additional arguing would be futile.

“Well, now that that’s decided, what do we want to do?” Brian asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Di tilted her head towards the doorway. “Hey, is that music I hear?” she asked. “Where’s it coming from?”

“The ballroom,” Honey answered. “Mother hired a band to play Christmas songs. She thought everyone might want to dance.”

“Ooh! I just love dancing to a live band,” Di cooed. She turned to Mart and batted her violet eyes at him.

Mart, easily picking up on Di’s hint, stood and bowed grandly before her. “Mademoiselle, may I have the honor of escorting you to the dance floor?”

Di rose gracefully. “I would be honored,” she replied with a dainty curtsey. She accepted the arm that Mart offered to her and followed him out the door.

Honey looked up at Brian, her thick lashes lowered flirtatiously. “What about you, Mr. Belden? Would you like to dance?”

“It would be my pleasure, milady,” Brian replied.

Honey smiled as she slipped her hand in his. Before they walked away, she turned to Trixie. “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” she said, casting a meaningful glance in Jim’s direction.

Dan glanced at Trixie, then at Jim, and finally back to Trixie. “I’m gonna see if there are any unattached hotties in there that need some company,” he said with a wink.

“Have fun,” Trixie answered, her tone a bit glum.

Dan patted her arm sympathetically. “Hey, if you get a ride to Mrs. V.’s, let me know and I’ll go with you.”

“Thanks, Dan,” she murmured. She tried her best to muster a smile but failed miserably. “Now get in the ballroom and work your magic on some poor unsuspecting female.”

Trixie sighed loudly as Dan made his exit, knowing her hopes to go to Mrs. Vanderpoel’s had come to an end. She gasped as she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Startled, she looked up into a pair of deep, green eyes.

“You know, Shamus, Brian’s not the only one with his driver’s license,” Jim drawled, dangling a set of keys in front of her. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in accompanying me to Mrs. Vanderp—”

Before he could even finish, Trixie impulsively threw her arms around him and engulfed him in a huge hug. “Oh, Jim! You’re the best!” Suddenly shy and self-conscious, she released him and shuffled her feet nervously, cringing as she felt the familiar red heat creeping up from her neck to her cheeks.

“I’ll go warm up the car,” he told her, his mouth forming that lopsided grin that Trixie adored. Not being able to resist, Jim reached out and gave his favorite curl a gentle tug. “Get your coat and meet me outside.”

Trixie nodded her agreement, afraid to speak. Her body was tingling after its contact with Jim’s, and a tiny part of her wanted to pull out that mistletoe from her pocket, hold it above them, and see what would happen. However, a much larger part of her decided that would be a monumentally foolish idea.

She gulped loudly as she stared into his emerald orbs. The seconds that passed felt more like hours. “I-I’ll go tell Dan,” she stuttered nervously, eager to break the uncomfortable silence.

Jim’s body stiffened, but he immediately recovered with a smile. “Okay. I’ll be waiting in the Bob-White station wagon.”

Trixie scurried off to the ballroom in search of Dan. Once the soles of her dress shoes met the slick surface of the dance floor, she went skidding. Thankfully, she regained her balance before she wiped out the beverage table. Standing on her tiptoes, she looked through the crowd for any sign of him.

Her gaze quickly fell upon Mart and Diana as they glided past her on the dance floor. Though she was several feet away from them, Trixie could almost hear the satiny folds of Di’s skirt swish as Mart twirled her around. She smiled wistfully as she noticed the way Mart looked down adoringly at Di as they danced. Di coyly giggled up at him, enchanting him with her picture-perfect smile.

I don’t think Di’s ever looked more beautiful, Trixie thought, fighting a twinge of jealousy as she marveled at her friend’s grace. No wonder Mart asked her to go steady.

Nearby, Brian and Honey danced closely with one another. Her cheek rested upon the shoulder of his gray sport coat, the expression on her face one of total bliss. Trixie smiled affectionately at her best friend, admiring her slender figure in her green velvet dress.

Honey looks so pretty and feminine, Trixie mused. Her green dress makes her look so sophisticated, and the color is just perfect for her.

She looked down at her own red, cowl-necked sweater and black wool trousers. Moms had tried to persuade her to wear a fancy dress, but Trixie had insisted that this outfit would be fine. Now she was having second thoughts.

Maybe if I looked prettier, Jim would’ve asked me to dance…

Trixie dismissed the wistful thought from her head, reminding herself that she would much rather help Mr. Maypenny than waste her evening dancing. She resumed her search for Dan, and finally found him standing near the stage. In her usual impetuous style, she gave a shrill whistle to draw his attention. Through the din of the crowd, Dan heard the call and walked over to her.

“What’s up?” he asked curiously. “Is Pierre Lontard trying to steal Mrs. Wheeler’s holiday crap?”

“Jim’s driving us to Mrs. V.’s,” Trixie explained excitedly, ignoring his teasing. “He’s warming up the car now. So get your coat and c’mon!”

Dan’s dark brows rose in surprise. “Jim offered to take you?”

He didn’t miss the way Trixie’s cheeks brightened at the mention of Jim. He stifled a grin as he watched her squirm in embarrassment.

“Uh, yeah,” she mumbled. “Well, are you coming or not? You said you’d help if I found a ride.”

Dan assumed a thoughtful expression. “You know, Trix, we hadn’t thought about what Mr. Maypenny would say about us doing this. He has some odd ideas, you know, and he might get mad.”

“Why? We’re just trying to be nice.”

“You know Mr. Maypenny,” Dan said with a shrug. “He doesn’t like to accept charity. He’ll bend over backwards to help us, but it makes him uncomfortable when anyone offers to do something for him.”

“What are you saying?” Trixie braced herself, and then added in a quiet voice, “That we shouldn’t decorate his cabin?”

“Not at all. I just think it might be better if you and Jim went alone to get the decorations,” Dan explained. “If you told Mr. Maypenny that it was a surprise for me, I’m sure he wouldn’t say no.”

Trixie chewed on her lower lip as she pondered Dan’s suggestion. After a moment she nodded her head slowly. “O-kay,” she drawled thoughtfully. “You know Mr. Maypenny better than the rest of us do, so I’m sure you’re right. You stay here, and Jim and I will take care of everything.”

Dan’s dark eyes twinkled merrily. “Sounds good to me. I’ll be sure and tell the others where you are.”

“Okey-dokey,” Trixie agreed happily, relieved that they would still be able to take on their project. “I’d better go. Jim’s waiting for me.”

Before she could turn to leave, Dan grabbed her arm and drew her close. “You two take your time. I’ll distract your brothers.” After giving her a mischievous wink, he swaggered off to find a lovely dancing partner.

Hoping that the blush on her cheeks would fade quickly, Trixie scurried to the cloakroom to grab her jacket and then ran out to the Bob-White station wagon. With a flourish, she flung open the car door and plopped down in the seat. Once she was settled, she looked expectantly at Jim.

“Aren’t we going to Mrs. Vanderpoel’s?”

“Well, yeah, but I was waiting for Dan,” Jim told her. “Isn’t he coming along?”

Trixie shook her head, allowing her silky curls to bounce around her flushed cheeks. “No, he decided it would be best if we went alone. Is that okay?”

A relieved smile passed over Jim’s face, hidden by the darkness of the night. He cleared his throat, and then choked out nervously, “Sure, that’s okay with me. Is it okay with you?”

Trixie nervously wound a sandy curl around her gloved index finger. “Umm, yeah, it’s okay with me, if it’s okay with you.”

Jim’s smile evolved into an easy grin as he shifted the engine into drive. “It’s okay with me.”

“Okay,” Trixie repeated nervously, peeking up to admire Jim. She snuggled back in the car seat, secretly pleased with the change of events. As she looked out at the falling snow, she sighed in contentment.

After using the spare key to unlock the front door, Trixie and Jim entered Mrs. Vanderpoel’s cozy house. Carefully balancing on one foot, Trixie slipped off one of her black dress shoes.

“Gleeps! Mrs. V. wasn’t kidding when she said she had plenty of Christmas decorations,” she gushed as she looked around the living room. “I think she has even more junk than your mom.”

After removing her left shoe, Trixie switched feet and tried to slip off her right one. She began wobbling back and forth, precariously teetering back and forth next to a side table with several breakable doo-dads on top.

“Careful, Shamus,” Jim teased with a smile. He placed a strong arm around Trixie’s waist to steady her. “You wouldn’t want to break any of Mrs. V.’s ‘junk’, would you?”

Trixie giggled as she kicked off the offensive footwear. “I’m a regular bull in a china shop.”

Jim smiled down at her fondly as he gently tugged on “his” curl. “I wouldn’t say that,” he whispered.

Trixie’s heart rate quickened as Jim’s breath tickled her cheek. Desperately afraid he would hear the loud beating echoing through the room, she nervously cleared her throat. “I guess we’d better go up to the attic.”

“Lead the way,” Jim directed with a wink.

They made their way up two flights of stairs and walked through a narrow hallway, which led to the attic. Jim opened the door, the rarely-used hinges creaking loudly in protest. He stepped back and gallantly motioned for Trixie to go on inside.

She stepped through the doorway, pulling on the string to the light bulb hanging overhead, and scanned the neat room. She recognized the large cedar trunk in which Mrs. Vanderpoel kept the dresses she, Honey, Di, and Hallie had tried on when they were searching for a wedding dress for Juliana. Nearby, she saw the smaller chest that had held Mrs. Vanderpoel’s own gown that Juliana had worn. Several family heirlooms were stored neatly around the room. Trixie was positive that if she raked one of her hands across any of the objects in the room, not a trace of dust would come off on her fingers.

Her gaze fell upon the window across from the door. Just as Mrs. Vanderpoel had said, several boxes had been sat underneath. Someone with old-fashioned, delicate penmanship had neatly scrawled “Christmas Decorations” on the top flap of each box.

“Here they are!” Trixie cried in delight. She eagerly crossed the room, picked up one of the boxes, and dragged it to the middle of the floor. She plopped down in front of the box to inspect the contents inside.

“Slow down, Shamus,” Jim said in a teasing tone. “Those boxes aren’t going anywhere.”

Trixie ignored him, save for a rueful grin. With obvious glee, she dug into the first box and pulled out a large object that was wrapped in newspaper. She carefully, yet quickly, removed the protective covering to unveil a beautiful snow globe. With a squeal of delight, she shook it up, allowing white flakes to flutter down on the tiny gingerbread house inside.

“Isn’t this pretty?” she murmured as Jim came and sat beside her.

A wistful look passed over Jim’s face as he took in Trixie’s sparkling blue eyes and her bright smile, accentuated by two large dimples on either side. “Very pretty,” he answered honestly, not even noticing the snow globe she was holding.

“Oh, this will look perfectly perfect in Mr. Maypenny’s living room,” she gushed excitedly.

“Perfectly perfect,” Jim agreed, still not talking about the snow globe.

“I wonder what else Mrs. V. has in here.” She searched through the box, oblivious to Jim’s open adoration. With a giggle, she pulled out a fruitcake that was still in its original packaging. “Hungry, Jim?”

“Is that a fruitcake?” Jim asked with a snort.

“Looks like it. Hey, I wonder when the expiration date is.” Trixie’s brow furrowed as she inspected the package for any signs of mold.

“Are you planning on eating it?”

Trixie looked up at Jim. With an indignant sniff, she tossed her curls and then stuck her tongue out at him. “Ha, ha. I was just curious when Mrs. Vanderpoel put it in here.”

Jim scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Judging by the packaging, I’m guessing around 1954,” he estimated in a scholarly tone.

“Blech,” Trixie exclaimed, scrunching up her pert nose. “This thing is probably toxic. One bite could destroy all of Sleepyside.”

Jim chuckled. “I’ll bet it would still be edible. I read that some people think fruitcakes improve with age. They wait twenty-five years to eat them.”

“No, thanks,” Trixie said with a snort as she packed it back in the box. She burst out laughing when she pulled out another fruitcake. “Hey, she’s got a whole stash of these things in here. This must’ve been where she hid them.”

Jim went over to the stack of boxes and easily picked up two of the larger ones. He carried them to the middle of the room and placed them beside Trixie. With his pocketknife he carefully sliced the packaging tape and opened the flaps. “One box has more decorations, and the other has a bunch of tree ornaments.”

“I wonder if Dan would mind chopping down a tree for us tomorrow?” Trixie wondered out loud.

“Dan’s not the only one with a trusty ax,” Jim said with a wink.

A lump the size of a watermelon formed in Trixie’s throat as she snuck a peek at the way Jim’s broad shoulders filled out his olive green suit jacket. “Th-th-thanks,” she stammered, trying not to stare at his bulging biceps.

She quickly hopped up to grab another box, hoping Jim wouldn’t notice her crimson cheeks. As she bent over to pick up the next box, she missed Jim’s discreet admiring glance. He quickly averted his gaze as Trixie plunked down beside him, eagerly ripping off the tape and then digging inside.

“Oh, look,” she murmured, pulling out several old-fashioned stockings. “These must’ve belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Vanderpoel and their children. How sweet that she’s kept them all these years.”

Jim nodded as he took the stockings and studied them. It was obvious that a lot of love and care had gone into the careful stitching of the designs on the front.

“We all have the same stockings we used as babies,” Trixie told him shyly. “Even Moms and Dad use the ones they had when they were kids.”

Jim tilted his head and gazed admiringly at her. “So, what’s in your stocking this year— a lump of sugar or a lump of coal?”

Trixie giggled and looked up flirtatiously at him through her thick, sandy lashes. “Why, sugar of course. I’ve been a good girl this year.”

“Oh, really?” he taunted. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to wait until Christmas morning to find out for sure.”

“We get to open the stuff in our stockings on Christmas Eve,” she informed him tartly.

“Mom and Dad make us wait until Christmas morning,” Jim said with a chuckle. “I think it has to do with all those sparkly gems in Honey’s stocking each year. They want to save those until last.”

“The only sparkly thing in my stocking is glitter from my name written on the front,” Trixie replied with a laugh. “Moms usually puts things like batteries in ours. They save the good stuff for Christmas morning. Well, except for the one package we’re allowed to open early.”

Jim quirked a ginger eyebrow at her. “You get to open one of your presents on Christmas Eve?”

Trixie rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. “Yeah, but it’s always pajamas. Every single year we get to open one present early, and every single year it’s PJs from Aunt Alicia.”

“Bummer,” he commented with an amused smirk.

Trixie laughed, her china blue eyes sparkling with merriment. “What’s funny is that Bobby still hasn’t figured that out. He keeps expecting something cool, and all he gets is dinosaur pajamas.”

“Maybe there are some pajamas in that box that Junior Vanderpoel discarded,” Jim suggested with a grin.

“Maybe,” Trixie agreed with a giggle. She explored deeper into the box to see what secrets were hidden. However, instead of dinosaur jammies, she pulled out a stack of old records.

Jim looked up with interest. “What’ve you got there?”

“Looks like a collection of old Christmas music,” Trixie murmured as she flipped through the large stack of records. “We’ve got Burl Ives, Rosemary Clooney, Bing Crosby, the Andrew—”

“Hey, let me see this one,” Jim interrupted, excitedly grabbing the album that was at the bottom of the stack. His green eyes widened in childlike glee as he studied the record he held. “Wow! I can’t believe it’s on here!”

Trixie glanced up at him inquisitively. “You can’t believe what’s on there?”

Jim tried to play it cool, hoping that if he feigned indifference, Trixie would drop the subject. “Oh, nothing important. Just a song that Mom, Dad, and me used to listen to.”

However, Jim would have no such luck.

“What song?” she prodded, her curiosity aroused.

“It’s not important,” Jim replied. He attempted to place the record back in the box before Trixie could see it, but the schoolgirl shamus never missed anything.

“Aw, c’mon, Jim!” With an impish smile, Trixie quickly retrieved the old album and began poring over the listings. “Which one is it? ‘Silver Bells’? ‘Have a Holly Jolly Christmas’? ‘White Chistmas’? ‘The Mer—’ ”

Jim snatched the record out of her hands and hid it behind his back. “It’s just a stupid song that I listened to with my mom and dad.”

Trixie leaned closer to Jim and flirtatiously batted her eyes at him. “Tell me the name of the song,” she begged sweetly.

“No,” Jim answered, setting his jaw in determination. “You’ll make fun of me.”

“No, I won’t,” Trixie promised. “Tell me the name of the song. Please?”

Jim crossed his arms in front of him and shook his head. “No.”

Trixie giggled as she sidled up closer to him. She clasped her hands in front of her to make her pleas more believable. “Pwetty pwease?”

“Are you going to keep bugging me until I tell you?” Jim asked with a weary sigh of exasperation.

“Yes,” she answered honestly. A saucy grin made her dimples appear a mile deep. She nodded her head slightly, making her sandy tendrils bounce. Jim’s favorite curl rested against her forehead, just begging to be tugged. With an inward groan, he silently admitted defeat. That blasted curl proved to be his downfall every time.

“ ‘The Merry Christmas Polka’,” he reluctantly admitted.

“ ‘The Merry Christmas Polka’?” Trixie repeated with an incredulous giggle. “Strangely enough, I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s by Jim Reeves,” Jim explained.

Trixie wrinkled her nose and shrugged her shoulders. “Who’s he?”

“He was a country singer back in the sixties. My mom and dad liked him. They played that album while Christmas dinner was cooking.”

“Did your dad wear his lederhosen?” Trixie inquired with an impish grin.

The corners of Jim’s mouth twitched in stifled amusement, but upon closer inspection, Trixie could see that his green eyes were a bit misty. “It may sound like a corny song, but it was special to us. Dad liked to grab Mom and dance with her around the table.”

Trixie placed her sturdy hand on his arm. “That’s a beautiful memory, Jim. I’m sure it’s a wonderful song. I’m sorry for teasing you about it.”

Jim placed his freckled hand on hers. “That’s okay. I know polka isn’t exactly mainstream. I think that’s one reason Dad liked it so well.”

“He sounds like fun.”

“He was,” Jim told her. “I wish you could’ve met him.”

“Me too.” The sweet smile on Trixie’s face slowly evolved to a mischievous one. “Why don’t you sing it for me?”

“Sing what?” Jim questioned, his tone quite defensive.

“ ‘The Merry Christmas Polka’,” Trixie answered with an exhale of impatience. “I want to hear it.”

Jim snorted in response. “Forget it.”

“Aw, c’mon, Jim!” Trixie coaxed. “I wanna hear that song. There’s nothing more rousing than a good polka.”

“Then listen to the record.” Jim tried to muster a frown; however, his trademarked lopsided grin refused to budge.

“No, I want to hear you sing it,” Trixie informed him.

“I don’t sing,” Jim insisted, setting his jaw in finality. “And besides, I’m not wearing my lederhosen.”

“Well, fine,” Trixie said with a pout. With an indignant sniff, she yanked the album away from him, stood (in quite an ungraceful manner) to her feet, and stomped over to the old-fashioned record player which was sitting on an ancient dresser. After spying an unused electric socket, she plugged in the record player, turned it on, and placed the album on the turntable.

“That record player probably doesn’t even work,” Jim told her. At least, he hoped it wouldn’t work…

Much to Trixie’s glee and Jim’s chagrin, after a bit of scratching and popping, the joyful strains of polka music echoed through the attic. She whooped in delight as she listened to the first verse.

This is Christmas season so there isn't any reason
We can't dance the Christmas polka
Hear sleigh-bells ringing everybody's singing
Dancing the Christmas polka
Christmas trees and holly make everyone so jolly
And love just fills the air
It's a wonderful world for a boy and a girl
While dancing the Christmas polka

Trixie hooted with laughter as she listened to the song. During the second verse, she was feeling particularly mischievous. With an impish grin, she accepted an imaginary dance partner’s invitation and began polkaing around the room, much to Jim’s amusement.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered with a rueful chuckle. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed. “I think we’ve had enough of the polka.”

Breathless from her dancing, Trixie stopped in front of him. She blew an errant curl out of her eyes, her cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink from her exercise. “Don’t you want to join me?” she asked with a giggle.

“I don’t think I could keep up with you.”

“You’ll never know unless you try,” Trixie challenged.

“If you wanted to dance, we should’ve stayed at the Manor House,” Jim teased.

She stuck her tongue out at him as the song ended. “You’re no fun,” she said with a smirk.

“Let’s get this stuff packed up, and maybe we’ll get back to the Manor House in time for a dance or two, Shamus.”

“I think it’s time I hung up my dancing shoes for the evening,” she replied with an exaggerated sigh.

“What do you mean?” Jim looked at her inquisitively. “I thought you wanted to dance?”

Trixie merely shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’d rather dance in an attic than in a ballroom.” Ignoring Jim’s gaze, she turned off the record player and removed the album from the turntable. Once the records were returned to their sleeves, she packed them in the box with the stockings and set them aside for Mrs. Vanderpoel.

Jim furrowed his ginger brow and studied her inquisitively. “Why? Don’t you like dancing with your friends?”

“Yeah, but…” Trixie let out another loud exhale. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”

Jim walked over to the petite blonde and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. “Try me,” he encouraged softly.

Trixie looked up in his green eyes, wondering if she should share her feelings, or if he’d even understand. However, once she fell into his emerald pools, she was surprised by the reassurance she found. “I like to dance when it’s just for fun, but when I’m in a crowded ballroom, I feel…” She shook her head, unable to complete her thought. “Oh, never mind.”

Jim’s hand slid down her arm, until he came to her hand. He nervously wrapped his fingers around her clenched fist and squeezed. “Talk to me, Trix.”

“When I’m on the dance floor with Honey and Di, I feel clumsy,” she admitted quietly. “I feel like ugly, old, klutzy, tomboy Trixie.”

“You’re not ugly or klutzy,” Jim argued with a gentle smile.

Trixie merely drew up her eyebrows and gave him an incredulous snort. “Sounds like you’ve eaten too much moldy fruitcake. Need I remind you of when I tripped on my hem at Tom and Celia’s wedding and landed flat on my face? And don’t forget about how I almost crashed into Mrs. V.’s table a few minutes ago. And too bad you didn’t see me almost wipe out the beverage table in the Manor House ballroom when I was looking for Dan. And who could forget the time I—”

“Everybody falls down once in a while,” Jim interrupted. “You’re not clumsy; you’re just in a hurry.”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Honey and Di never stumble. You should’ve seen them in the ballroom. They looked so pretty and graceful as they twirled around. No wonder my dopey brothers are so crazy about them.”

“Surely you aren’t jealous for your brothers’ attention?”

Trixie averted her eyes from Jim’s careful gaze. “Well, I guess I am envious, but not about Mart and Brian. I see the way they look at Honey and Di, and I wish somebody would look at me like that.”

Jim took the knuckles of his free hand and gently stroked Trixie’s cheekbone with them. “Maybe somebody does look at you like that, but you just don’t notice.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorted in disbelief.

“It’s true,” Jim insisted, pulling her a bit closer to him. “You constantly sell yourself short and never notice the good things.”

Trixie shyly met his gaze and hesitantly asked, “What do you mean?”

Jim took a deep breath, deciding now was as good a time as any to plunge in over his head. He locked eyes with her, willing all his emotions to the surface. “You’re like a snowflake, Shamus.”

“A snowflake?” Trixie repeated with an indignant sniff. “I’m like a frigid piece of ice that is usually unwanted and more-often-than-not dangerous? Gee, thanks.” She tried to pull away, but Jim refused to release her hand. Instead, he pulled her nearer to his heart.

“I’m not saying you’re unwanted and dangerous,” he argued.

“Then what are you saying?”

“That you’re unique, just like a snowflake. Every single crystal of snow is special, one of a kind. Each one has its own design, totally different from all the other snowflakes that have ever fallen.”

“How am I like that?” she inquired skeptically.

“You’re not afraid to do something different. You follow your heart, even if it means marching to your own drumbeat. You never stay in a rut because you’re so busy finding new adventures. You’re constantly finding joy in helping people, like Honey and Di with their Christmas ornaments and offering to decorate Mr. Maypenny’s cabin.”

“Well, I guess that’s not too bad,” Trixie admitted sheepishly.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Jim continued. “Snowflakes may look fragile, but they’re more durable than they appear. When one tiny snowflake combines with others, it can cause quite an avalanche.”

“What else?” Trixie prompted.

“Have you ever seen it snow when the sun is shining? Sometimes a ray of sunlight will reflect off of the crystal, and it glistens so brightly that it looks like a diamond.” Jim paused to clear a lump in his throat. “You may think it sounds stupid, but to me, you sparkle like a snowflake.”

Trixie shook her head, the familiar red stain creeping up on her cheeks. “I don’t sparkle.”

“Yes, you do,” he whispered earnestly. “When you’re excited about a new mystery or about taking on some new charity work, your blue eyes get a special twinkle in them. They sparkle brighter than any star up in the sky. And that sparkle is contagious. Once you shine, your light is so bright that everyone around you is affected.”

With the tips of his fingers, he lifted her chin upward so he could meet her glance. “When it’s dark, the moon can shine on the snow and cast a light. On a cold, winter night, the path becomes a little clearer if there’s snow on the ground. It shines a light to help you when you’re lost.”

“Jim…”

He placed a gentle finger on her lips to silence her, lightly tracing their petal soft fullness. “There’s nothing prettier than a new snowfall. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the world look more beautiful than after a blizzard. The snow dresses up the barren trees and makes the frozen ground look magical. Snowflakes are beautiful.” He paused for a moment, and then added, “Like you.”

Trixie held her breath, afraid that if she moved she would wake up from this dream. For so long, she had longed to hear these words from Jim. Now that her hopes were realized, she savored the sweetness of the moment. She looked up at Jim and could tell he was waiting for her to make the next move. Mustering all her confidence, she shyly glanced up at him.

“Will you sing to me?”

“Sing to you?” Jim knotted his brow in surprise. “I can’t sing.”

“Please? Just the second verse of that Christmas song your mom and dad liked.”

“Trixie…” Jim raked a freckled hand through his thick, russet hair.

She laid one of her hands on his chest, never breaking eye contact with him. “Please, Jim?”

Jim rolled his eyes and sighed wearily, not wanting to give in to her request. However, his attempts to resist were in vain; he could never say no to her.

“This is Christmas season, so th---”

Trixie gently laid her index finger on his lips to silence him. “No, just the second verse.”

Though he was confused, Jim granted her wish and began to sing in a slightly flat tone. “The merry Christmas polka, let's dance, let's dance, let's dance. Everyone's so happy, the air is filled with romance.” He trailed off at the end of the verse, hoping that those lines would suffice.

“Go on,” Trixie urged.

“Watch the sweethearts kissing as they dance underneath the mistletoe…” He stopped singing as he watched Trixie pull something out of her pocket and hold it above them. “Is that—?”

He was interrupted as Trixie held aloft the mistletoe with one hand and with the other, grabbed the lapels of his jacket. Casting all her doubts aside, she pulled him close and placed her lips on his.

Jim wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing her closely against his strong chest. Trixie released her grip on his jacket, allowing that hand to slide up to his neck, while the one holding the mistletoe fell from its position and found its way around Jim’s shoulder.

Time stood still, each moment lasting an eternity. Sweetly hesitant and unsure, each touch opened a new world of emotions for them both as they explored each other for the first time. Their kiss deepened as their tongues slowly tangled and caressed one another.

After several minutes, they breathlessly pulled apart. Jim touched her cheek with his hand, his hand trembling with awestruck joy. “Merry Christmas, Shamus,” he murmured tenderly.

“Merry Christmas, Jim,” she whispered, her china blue eyes sparkling with happiness.

He gruffly cleared his throat, unwilling to bring this magical event to a close, yet unable to suppress his honorable nature. “I hate to be responsible now, but we’d better gather this stuff up and get back to the Manor House,” Jim said as he caressed her cheek.

“Yeah, I suppose we should,” Trixie reluctantly agreed, attempting to clear the huskiness from her voice. “The rest of the Bob-Whites are probably waiting on us to exchange gifts.”

“You don’t sound too excited,” he teased, tugging on his favorite curl. “Don’t you want to open the present I got you?”

Trixie tossed her curls and gave him a saucy smile. “But I already got what I wanted.”

“What was that?” he asked, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“A kiss from you.” She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his.

Jim gladly conceded to her request, and held her close for a kiss. “And there’s more where that came from,” he promised with a wink. He paused momentarily to study her earnestly. “If you’ll go steady with me, that is.”

“Oh, Jim!” Trixie exclaimed, hugging him tightly.

“Is that a yes?”

Trixie stood back so she could look him in the eye. “It’s a yes. I’d be honored to go steady with you.”

Jim smiled contentedly. “Now that you’re my official girlfriend, that gag gift isn’t going to cut it. I’m going to have to shell out the big bucks and get you something nice.”

Trixie laid her small hand on his strong jaw. “I’ve got you, James Winthrop Frayne the Second. What more could a girl want?”

“To dance the Christmas polka?” Jim asked with a mischievous, lopsided grin.

“I think we’ll focus on the smooching,” she ordered huskily as she held the mistletoe over their heads again, and raised her lips for another Christmas kiss.

The End

Credits:

This has been a Christmas fan fiction exchange for the lovely Misty. Misty, I hope you’ve enjoyed it!

Thank you to my editors, Kaye, Steph H, and KathyW. You each help me so much in different ways. I’m blessed to have such special friends who are willing to fix my boo-boos.

Thank you to Cathyoma, who organized this fanfic exchange. My friend, I’m in awe of your organizational abilities! Be sure you go and read her story (which was a gift for me!) because it was definitely “The Perfect Gift”.

A big thank you to Rachele (AKA Wingnut) who provided me some inside information to make this story a more personal gift. She told me that Misty’s favorite Christmas song as a little girl was “The Merry Christmas Polka” by Jim Reeves. The song was so cute that I based my whole story around it and used it as the title. I have fond memories of Jim Reeves myself. My grandparents loved him, and we used to listen to him also.

“Field and Stream” is a popular outdoorsman magazine, perfect for a dreamy woodsman to read.

Since one of my editors was curious, hellgrammites are bugs used as bait to catch fish. They are extremely scary-looking and icky, but apparently, smallmouth bass think they are yummy. Go figure.

I actually had a friend who conned her mom into leaving the Christmas tree up until Easter. It had lost most of its needles by Valentine’s Day, but I think they left it up until St. Patrick’s Day.

Burl Ives, Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney, and the Andrew Sisters were singers from long ago who should never be forgotten.