One minute to midnight, one minute to go

One minute to say good-bye before we say hello

Let's start the New Year right, twelve o'clock tonight

When they dim the light, let's begin

Kissing the old year out

Kissing the New Year in

Let's watch the old year die with a fond good-bye

And our hopes as high as a kite

How can our love go wrong if

We start the New Year right?

Author’s note:

Get out your confetti! It’s time to ring in the new year in Sleepyside. This story takes place after “Wood-Chopping 101: The Future”.

New Year’s Eve, at the Sleepyside Country Club…

A sigh of utter contentment escaped Trixie Belden’s slightly parted lips. In all of her twenty-five years, she’d never known such bliss existed.

Her complete satisfaction wasn’t due to her surroundings. Though the festively decorated Sleepyside Country Club would surely meet the approval of Martha Stewart herself, the lavish ballroom wasn’t the source of her happiness. Trixie would be just as content if the party were being held in the city dump.

It wasn’t the lovely music being played by the orchestra. Although she’d enjoyed each and every holiday song the band played, Trixie’s joy would’ve been just as full even if the woodwinds had been flat and the brass section sharp. After all, music was powerful, but not nearly as overwhelming as the love she felt in her heart.

It most certainly wasn’t the ill-fitting dress and the torturous high-heels she was wearing. True, the ivory satin material of the A-line formal gown cinched her waist, accentuating its narrowness. The calf-length skirt swirled around her as she and Jim danced, and the rhinestone-studded gold kitten heels on her feet made her legs appear long and shapely. But in spite of its pleasing appearance, the gown was pure evil. The gold beading which embellished the dress’ plunging neckline was itchy, her panty hose were in dire need of a tug upward, and Trixie was positive that her feet would be permanently deformed after being squished into the ridiculously pointy-toed shoes for this entire evening. No, her outfit definitely was not the cause of her current state of euphoria.

She glanced over at her friends. Honey and Brian were deep in conversation at a nearby table. Trixie couldn’t tell what subject they were discussing, but whatever it was, both participants appeared to be quite contented. Their fingers were entwined on the tabletop, and Honey’s head rested on Brian’s strong shoulder.

Dan sat with them, Tom and Celia’s sleepy-looking daughter cradled in his embrace. The dainty five-year-old was clad in a festive, red taffeta holiday dress. The Christmas present from her Uncle Danny, the book, Where the Wild Things Are, was clutched under her arm as she fought the urge to close her eyes in slumber.

A few feet away, Trixie’s middle brother and his bride were dancing closely together. Mart looked down adoringly at Diana, and she peered up at him with equal affection. They were the epitome of a loving husband and wife.

Yes, Trixie had thoroughly enjoyed spending time with her family and friends. With their busy lives, it was rare that all seven adult Bob-Whites were able to gather together in the same room for any length of time, so this moment was one to be treasured. However, it wasn’t the delightful company of her childhood companions that made her heart so merry.

As the old Irving Berlin song drifted through the country club, a husky voice whispered in her ear. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?”

Through a fringe of thick, sandy lashes, Trixie peeked up at a pair of searing emerald eyes. Another blissful sigh passed through her lips.

This was why she was so happy. More accurately, he was why she was so happy. Her entire state of bliss could be summed up in a little three-letter, one-syllable word.

Jim.

Her contented smile evolved into a mischievous grin as she looked up at her fiancé. “I think it’s been a whole hour since you last told me,” was Trixie’s pert response to his earlier inquiry. “But I could stand hearing it again.”

A few minutes passed, but still Jim said nothing.

“Well?” Trixie prompted with an expectant huff. “Weren’t you supposed to tell me something?”

Jim’s face was the mask of innocence. “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t there something you were going to say?” She assumed her sternest expression. “Something about how beautiful I look?”

“Well, obviously you already know how beautiful I think you are, so there’s really no need for me to bore you with unnecessary information,” he commented matter-of-factly.

Trixie pulled away slightly so she could glare up at him. “Excuuuuse me?” she drawled out, one eyebrow cocked.

Chuckling, Jim pulled the petite whirlwind closer to his broad chest to inhibit her potential path of destruction. “You look beautiful.” As a further peace offering, he kissed her forehead, and added, “But then, you’re always gorgeous to me, Shamus.”

“Good save, Frayne,” she teased.

“I meant every word.” Suddenly, he twirled her around the dance floor, allowing the satiny folds of her skirt to flare out around her shapely legs. Once he drew her back in his embrace, he whispered, “And at the risk of sounding like a broken record, that’s some dress.”

“Thank you,” Trixie replied pertly. “I was hoping you’d like it when I picked it out.”

“Did you get it at Teen Town?” Jim queried with a mischievous smile.

“They’ve been out of business for years, silly.” Her chin edged its way up proudly. “Actually, I found this little number at Boutique Lynch.”

“The Lynches have their own dress shop?” Jim inquired quizzically.

Trixie giggled prettily, her eyes sparkling simply from the sheer joy of being with the man she loved. “Di and I both wanted new dresses for tonight, but we were both short on ‘fundage’, so we raided her mom’s closet. With Mrs. Lynch’s permission, of course.”

“No offense to Mrs. Lynch or anything,” Jim began a bit hesitantly, “but I… uhh… you and Di aren’t the same size as her mom.” He glanced warily over at the table where Edward and Carolyn Lynch were seated. Diana’s mother, like her daughter, had once held the title of Prettiest Girl in Sleepyside. Carolyn, though several years older now, had only grown more elegant as she aged. Once a delicate, youthful beauty, she’d evolved into a cultured, attractive lady of wealth. However, through the years she had gone from a svelte size-eight to a more comfortable size-fourteen, which was slightly larger than Trixie’s size-ten build and Di’s size-six. After a spurt of fitful dieting, Carolyn finally resolved to be content with the curves the good Lord had given her, a resolution which suited Ed Lynch— a fan of the voluptuous feminine form— just fine.

“Remember when Mrs. Lynch went on that last crash diet at the spa in the Hamptons last year?” Trixie asked. Jim nodded in response. “Well, after she lost all that weight, she bought a bunch of evening gowns to wear to different functions she was going to attend with Mr. Lynch. After she gained it back a couple months later, all those dresses were just hanging in her closet, taking up space. She let Di and me each pick out a couple, and the very talented seamstress, Madeleine G. Wheeler, altered them so they fit us perfectly.” She gave a coy giggle. “We starving detectives and museum curators have to pinch our pennies.”

“You don’t have to pinch your pennies, you know,” Jim replied in a nonchalant tone. “Your future husband has a few bucks saved up in the bank, and he’d be happy to buy you a new evening gown.”

“I know, but you aren’t my husband yet.”

“Only because you’ve resisted my coaxing,” Jim retorted teasingly. “A weaker woman would be sharing my bank account by now. Not to mention my bed…”

“Jim!” she managed to squeal through a laugh. “I’ll be sharing your bank account— amongst other things— very soon. I’d feel like a mooch if you started footing the bill for me now.”

“But I like buying you things,” he told her, his voice taking on a plaintive quality. “After all, you’re my special girl. You always have been.”

Trixie rose up on tiptoes and planted a kiss on her fiancé’s cheek. Smiling happily, she wiped away the rosy pink smudge on Jim’s face, which just happened to be the exact shade of the lip-gloss she was wearing. “Once we’re married, you can buy me all the expensive dresses your heart desires,” she told him with a wink. “I might even wear them someplace.”

“Strapless dresses that show a lot of cleavage?” Jim waggled his ginger brows in a mischievous manner. “And maybe one with a slit in the skirt that goes up to your thigh?”

“If that’s what you like.”

“Trust me, that’s what I like,” he assured her, a devilish twinkle in his emerald-colored eyes. “Of course, what I’d really like to see you wearing is a wedding dress.” He assumed an angelic expression. “And just when will that be?”

“Soon,” she hedged. “Very soon, I promise.”

Before he could pressure her further, the song ended, and Jim clasped Trixie’s hand, hastily placed a kiss on her knuckles, and then led her back to the table where the other Bob-Whites were seated.

“Well, if it isn’t Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers,” Dan greeted as the couple sat down with the other Bob-Whites. “Save me a dance later, Twinkle Toes?”

“You betcha,” Jim replied with a grin.

Trixie cleared her throat. “Excuse me, dear, but I think Dan was talking to me.”

“Actually Trixie, I was talking to Jim,” Dan deadpanned. His tone and expression were so serious that his companions burst out laughing.

“What did I miss?” Mart questioned, pulling out his wife’s chair for her before he claimed the one beside her.

Brian shook his head in disdain. “You don’t want to know.” He made a gagging sound as the orchestra began playing a jazzy version of “Winter Wonderland”. “Doesn’t the band know anything besides Christmas songs?”

“ ‘Winter Wonderland’ isn’t a Christmas song,” Honey argued. “It’s a winter song.”

“Well, I don’t care what kind of song it is, if it mentions the words ‘snow’, ‘jingle’ or ‘cheer’, I’m sick of it,” Brian remarked.

“How so very festive of you,” Di teased with a titter.

Brian rolled his eyes to express his annoyance at the mere thought of more holiday songs. “The hospital lobby and waiting rooms have been playing Christmas Muzak continually ever since the beginning of November,” he explained. “I’ve been officially sick of Christmas songs since the second week of December.” He looked pointedly at his longtime girlfriend and added, “And before you ask, yes, I’m sick of winter songs, too.”

“The hospital began playing holiday music in beginning of November?” Jim repeated incredulously. “What happened to Thanksgiving?”

Brian wearily shrugged his shoulders. “Apparently the radio station cancelled it. Not enough thankful songs to play nonstop twenty-four hours a day.”

“Well, I like holiday songs,” Di said with a haughty lift of her chin. “It kind of makes me sad when the deejays start playing regular music after January first.”

“Not me,” Dan commented. “It’d be okay with me if the powers-that-be started playing holiday songs on Christmas Eve and quit on December twenty-sixth. A man can only hear ‘Grandma Got Ran Over By a Reindeer’ so many times without going crazy.”

“I don’t get sick of it that quickly,” Jim said, chuckling. “I think the radio stations should break out the holiday records the day after Thanksgiving and put ‘em back the day after New Year’s. That’s long enough to hear all the songs I like, but not long enough to wear them out.”

“You know, there are some people who never put up their Christmas music.” Mart coughed, and then gazed pointedly at his wife.

“What?” Di inquired, her expression innocent. “There’s no law against listening to ‘O Holy Night’ in July.”

“But there should be,” Brian retorted.

Mart grinned wryly. “There’s nothing quite like listening to ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’ when New York’s in the middle of a heat wave.”

“That’s just wrong,” Brian muttered with a shake of his head. “You’re disrupting the whole order of the universe by listening to Christmas music during the wrong time of the year.”

“It’s not going to get the planets out of alignment, Brian,” Di managed between giggles. “Besides, some Bible scholars think Jesus was born in September, and July’s closer to September than December, so there!”

However, Brian couldn’t be dissuaded. “Listening to Christmas music in July is messed up, Di. End of conversation.”

Honey giggled. “I’m with Di; I simply love holiday music. Don’t I, Trixie?”

“She does.” Trixie groaned loudly. “She’s just about driven me insane with her Bing Crosby CD.”

Honey seemed undeterred by her best friend’s lack of enthusiasm. “You can’t wear out Bing. I could hear him sing ‘White Christmas’ all day.”

“And sometimes she does,” Trixie informed the rest of the group. “If a blizzard would’ve snowed us in for an extended period of time, I had planned on strapping her favorite CDs on my feet and using them as ice skates so I could escape to the Farm.”

“Ice skates wouldn’t have helped you in a blizzard, Trix,” Mart corrected.

Trixie glared at her slightly-older brother, her sandy eyebrows drawn downward. “Then I would’ve used them as snowshoes.”

“At least I don’t listen to Bing in July,” Honey pointed out defensively. “Although it might not be a bad idea…”

Trixie held up a hand in protest. “Let me first say that if you do, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“Hopefully you won’t be living with Honey in July,” Jim commented with a wink.

“Hopefully,” was all Trixie said. She cleared her throat nervously as she prepared to change the subject. “So, Di, did your mom recover from her traumatic experience?”

Brian raised a dark brow in query as Trixie, Honey, and Diana began giggling madly. “What ‘traumatic experience’ are you talking about, and why are you three laughing like loons?” he asked. :Are you that sadistic to take joy in Mrs. Lynch’s mental misfortune?”

“It’s not important, so let’s just forget about it,” Mart interrupted, his cheeks redder than the poinsettias in the flower arrangement on their table. “Nobody wants to hear about our little Christmas mishap.”

“Something tells me that we do,” Dan remarked with a wicked grin. “Please tell us your story, Di.”

“Well, as you all know, I’ve begun making scrapbooks,” Diana began, a merry twinkle in her eyes. “I thought it would be nice to make a scrapbook for Mummy that had different pictures of our family in it.”

“So?” Dan shrugged his shoulders in a quizzical manner. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah,” Jim agreed. “Didn’t she like it?”

“Oh, she liked the one I made for her.” Di vainly attempted to stifle a giggle but failed miserably. “The only problem was that I gave her the wrong scrapbook.”

“So now you know what happened,” Mart interjected hastily. “Not to change the subject, but which of you lucky dogs with a high-definition, wide-screen plasma TV will be hosting the annual football-fest tomorrow evening?”

Di looked sharply at her husband. “You didn’t let me finish my story, darling. It’s rude to interrupt.”

“Sorry, dear,” Mart mumbled contritely, putting his head down in an apologetic manner. “Please commence with your potentially humiliating account.”

Di smiled sweetly. It was apparent that, in spite of her husband’s reservations, she relished the task before her. “As I was saying, I made a scrapbook for Mummy for Christmas, but I’d also made one for Mart. Once both books were finished, I wrapped them at the same time. We’ve always exchanged gifts with my parents early on Christmas Eve, and Mart and I don’t open presents until that night, so he hadn’t opened his scrapbook yet. When I wrapped them, I must’ve accidentally mislabeled the tags, but I had no idea that I’d switched the two. So Mummy got Mart’s scrapbook.”

“Who cares if Mrs. Lynch got a book full of pictures of you and Mart instead of you and your siblings?” Brian asked with a shrug. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal is that I made Mart a special scrapbook.” Di leaned closer to the middle of the table, and then added in a dramatic stage whisper, “A naughty scrapbook.”

As understanding slowly dawned on Jim, Brian, and Dan, identical horrified expressions covered each of their faces. Amused by the trio’s reactions, the girls laughed uproariously.

“I’m just glad Ed didn’t see it,” Mart muttered, his expression as far from “amusement” as it could get. His comment only served to amuse the girls further.

Di wiped a few tears from her eyes. “Oh, well. There was nothing in those pictures that Mummy hadn’t seen before. Of course, things were a bit different than they had been when I was ten…”

Brian, by far the most straight-laced of the Bob-Whites, shifted nervously in his seat. “How did you get pictures like that? Surely you didn’t have them developed at the pharmacy in town?”

“Of course not,” Di assured him with a sigh of exasperation. “You can do wonders with a digital camera and a printer, Mr. Bossy Pants. If you’d like, I could show you how to make a scrapbook for Honey.” The striking brunette grinned saucily at her brother-in-law. “I’m sure she’d appreciate such a gift.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Brian mumbled, his neck reddening. “The only thing worse than you taking pictures of my goods would be for you to accidentally give them to Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Well, if you all will excuse me for a moment, I’m going to return this munchkin to her rightful owners before this conversation takes an X-rated turn,” Dan told them. He stood up carefully, balancing the sleeping form of Tiffany Delanoy which was draped over his shoulder, and then walked across the room to find Tom or Celia.

“Isn’t that the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen?” Honey gushed as she watched Dan carry the small girl to her parents.

“Definitely,” Di agreed with a nod. “Our Danny has such a way with children. He’ll make a wonderful father someday.”

“Yes, it’s a miracle he hasn’t been snatched up by some lucky lady by now,” Trixie added.

“Good grief,” Jim muttered. “Give a guy a puppy or a small child to hold and all of a sudden he’s the most eligible bachelor in town.”

Trixie reached over and patted her fiancé’s hand. “Well, the title had to be passed down to someone now that you’re officially off the market.”

“Technically, I’m still a bachelor,” Jim pointed out, struggling to hide his grin. “Of course, you could change my status easily enough. I’m eager to negotiate some sort of merger in the near future.”

Honey leaned closer to Trixie, her tawny brows raised with interest. “Yes, Trixie, we’re all quite eager to learn when the big day will be. Mother has been salivating over bridal magazines, you know.”

“Your mother drools?” Trixie inquired, feigning surprise.

“Occasionally, when it involves planning a huge social event,” Honey deadpanned. “And right now, she’s practically dying to begin the preparations.”

Trixie shot her best friend a dirty look. “I’ll be the one who’s dying when your mom starts dragging me to every hoity-toity event planner in New York City. I’m about as organized as… as… well, as whatever’s not organized.”

“I have one word for you, sis.” Mart paused dramatically, and then continued. “Elope.”

“Yeah right, Mart,” Trixie snorted. “If we run off and get married without giving Moms and Mrs. Wheeler the wedding of their, er, our dreams, Jim and I would both be disowned.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Mart told her, shaking his head in disapproval. “Di almost had a nervous breakdown planning our wedding. By the time we went to the rehearsal dinner, she was ready to hop on the first plane for Vegas and ask some Elvis impersonator to perform the ceremony.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that, Mart!” Trixie’s complexion grew ashen as she examined her brother and sister-in-law’s faces. “He is just saying that, isn’t he, Di?”

“Well, ‘nervous breakdown’ may be too harsh a term,” Diana replied a bit too unconvincingly to appease Trixie’s worries. “Planning our wedding was stressful, but it was all worth it in the end.”

“And we’ll be there to help you,” Honey pointed out. “Remember, we were at college in Niagara Falls when Di was planning hers, so we couldn’t help her much.”

“And of course Moms and Mrs. Wheeler will help,” Di added. “My mother, too.”

Brian raised his hand. “And don’t forget us men folk. We may not know much about all that frou-frou crap, but we’ll lend a hand where we can. And there’s no better organizer than your big brother Brian.”

Jim reached out and clasped Trixie’s hand. “We’ll get through this, Shamus. Besides, as long as you’re my wife, I don’t care if the Justice of the Peace marries us in his bathroom. I only want to wake up every morning with you beside me.”

“Jim, ol’ boy, that’s real sweet, but I maintain my position,” Mart declared. “Elope.”

“Mart! For the last time, we can’t elope!” Trixie exclaimed angrily. “Now would you just be quiet!”

Dan returned to the table just as Trixie concluded her tirade. He studied his now-silent friends with wonder. “Did I miss something important?” he inquired as he sat back down.

“No,” Trixie responded brusquely. “We were just discussing which is better: Pumpkin bread or banana-nut bread.”

“Why, banana-nut bread, of course,” Dan replied, a twinkle in his midnight-black eyes. “Now what were you really talking about?”

“Jim and Trixie’s wedding date,” Mart cheerfully supplied.

Dan drew back in surprise. “Did you guys finally decide on a day?”

“Not yet.” Trixie tossed a scowl in the general direction of her almost-twin.

“Jeesh, Trix,” Dan snickered. “By the time you set the date, I’ll be married.”

“Bobby could be married…” Mart goaded.

“Shut up, Mart,” Trixie hissed through clenched teeth. “This isn’t the time or place to make wedding plans.”

“It’s just as good a time as any,” Mart retorted. “Jim’s not getting any younger.”

“I’m not ready to kick the bucket yet, Mart,” Jim answered dryly. “I have a year or two before I can draw Social Security.”

“They’ve only been engaged two months,” Honey commented, sensing her best friend’s apprehension. “That really isn’t too awfully long.”

Dan chuckled. “Yes, but when you consider the fact that they’ve been in love with other since conception, it’s been an eternity.”

“So just go ahead and elope,” Mart told them.

Trixie folded her arms huffily. “Why’re you being so pushy about my wedding, brother-of-mine?” she queried. “Are you that desperate for a piece of wedding cake?”

“Believe it or not, I just want you to be happy.” Mart smiled fondly at his sister. However, that smile quickly evolved into a smirk. “But wedding cake does sound good.”

“My happiness is none of your concern,” Trixie said with a toss of her curls. “Why don’t you just mind your own business?”

“Miss Pot, meet Mr. Kettle,” Brian muttered under his breath. He was rewarded with an icy glare from his sister’s direction.

Honey, taking pity on her best friend, quickly jumped to Trixie’s defense. “Trixie’s right; this isn’t any of our business. She and Jim should discuss it privately. Besides, if Jim isn’t in a hurry to tie the knot, then it shouldn’t matter to us.” Her hazel gaze shifted to her brother. “Why, you aren’t impatient, are you?” Noticing his hesitancy, she added softly, “Are you, Jim?”

Jim shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Well, it doesn’t matter if I’m impatient or not. The wedding can’t happen without a bride.”

“So what’s the big holdup, Trix?” Dan dared to ask. “Don’t tell me you have cold feet?”

Trixie released a labored sigh. “Of course not. We’ve just been too swamped at the agency to make any definite plans; I never know what sort of investigation Honey and I will be doing months in advance and when I’ll be able to take time off. Besides, the construction crew can’t start working on our house until spring, so we wouldn’t have any place to live.”

“And you can’t rent an apartment until the house is finished?” Mart asked dryly. “At this point, I’m sure Jim would be happy sharing a brown paper box with you.”

Trixie moaned and buried her face in her hands. “Can we please quit talking about this? I’m wearing high heels and control-top pantyhose. Isn’t that enough torture for one evening?”

Jim’s ginger brows met in a deep groove above the bridge of his nose as he assumed a wounded expression. “I’m not sure, but I think I should be insulted that planning our wedding is considered ‘torture’.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Trixie assured him. She reached over and rubbed his arm. “Jim, you know I love you more than anything. Once the holiday craziness is over, we’ll sit down and pick a date.” She glanced over at the five pairs of eyes intently watching them, and then added, “By ourselves.”

Jim remained silent, his shamrock-colored eyes focusing on his place setting.

Trixie hooked her arm through Jim’s and rested her head on his shoulder. “Please, Jim,” she whispered plaintively. “You promised you wouldn’t push.”

After the longest five seconds ever recorded in history, Jim nodded. “You’re right; I did.” His irritated expression softened as he looked pleadingly into her bright blue eyes. “Just please don’t make me wait too long, okay?”

“I won’t,” Trixie promised, brushing back a thatch of red hair from Jim’s forehead. She tried to ignore the nagging thought that she’d made that same promise a hundred times in the past couple months.

Dan cleared his throat nervously. “I have an idea. Since it’s New Year’s Eve, how about we each announce our plans for the coming year?”

“Sure,” Brian agreed eagerly. “I have some news that I’ve been saving.”

Honey arched a delicate eyebrow. “Is that so? I don’t know about the others, but I’m anxious to hear this juicy bit of information.”

“He’ll get his chance,” Dan interjected quickly. “But since it was my idea, I get to go first.”

“Since you’re so excited, go ahead, Dan,” Di told him.

Dan grinned at his friends. “I gave Captain Lawrence my resignation; I’m moving back to Sleepyside.”

There was a collective gasp at the Bob-Whites’ table. Mart was the first to recover.

“Since when?” he asked.

“Since three hours ago,” Dan replied sheepishly.

Honey’s eyes were wide with surprise. “What are you going to do now?”

“Get another job,” was Dan’s matter-of-fact response. “Know of any police departments that are hard up for help?”

“Are you kidding?” Trixie exclaimed. “Spider’s told me a million times that he wishes you’d get sick of the NYPD and come back to Sleepyside. He’ll hire you in a second!”

“And if by some fluke he doesn’t, I’m thinking about getting some security guards for the school,” Jim mentioned. “I’d love to have you at Ten Acres.”

The law enforcement officer in Dan took over, and he focused his attention on Jim. “Is something going on at the school?”

“You can’t be too cautious,” Jim simply said. “Okay, Doc, what’s your news?”

“As of January twenty-eighth, my residency’s over,” Brian announced proudly. “I’ll be back in Sleepyside fulltime, too.”

“Oh, Brian!” Honey gasped, throwing her arms around her boyfriend’s neck. “That’s wonderful!”

“Excellent news, Bri,” Mart congratulated. “So, will you be setting up shop in town?”

“Dr. Ferris has asked me to join his practice,” Brian explained. “He’s getting older, you know, and plans to retire once his patients feel comfortable with me.”

“And does this mean you’ll be on call twenty-four hours a day for the school?” Jim questioned hopefully.

“It sure does,” Brian answered.

“And are you planning to make another big announcement soon?” Trixie’s eyes shifted from her oldest brother to her best friend. “An announcement involving a diamond ring, perhaps?”

“Miss Pot, didn’t you just ask Mr. Kettle to mind his own business?” Brian reminded her jokingly.

“It’s different when I’m the one who’s meddling,” Trixie replied with an indignant sniff.

Brian chuckled good-naturedly. “Funny how that works. So, does anyone else have any exciting news to share?”

“I do,” Jim answered. “Well, actually Ten Acres Academy does. The plans for the expansion have been drawn up, and a new learning center, complete with a library and computer room, should be completed this spring.”

“The Shannequa Montage Library?” Trixie inquired, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

Jim coughed loudly. “Actually, that would be the Montage of Learning Library, Trix.”

“Why are you giving it that crazy name?” Dan questioned skeptically.

“It’s a long story, and one I’m not particularly eager to share,” Jim hedged. “So, who’s next? Trixie? Honey? Belden Juniors?”

Mart and Diana exchanged a look. Mart opened his mouth to speak, but Di shook her head slightly in a successful effort to silence her husband.

“No exciting news for us,” Di supplied quickly. “Unless you count our plans to paint the guest bathroom next weekend, that is.”

Trixie studied the pair curiously, her detective instincts rising to the surface. Di’s next statement interrupted her examination.

“Anything new on the horizon for the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency?”

“We just wrapped up a big case,” Honey told them proudly. “And we’ve got a few small cases to tide us over for a while.”

“And thank goodness, none of them involve Ms. Martin filing a missing persons report for her cat, Mr. Winky,” Trixie added with a giggle, referring to one of the agency’s “infamous” first cases.

“Otherwise, life is pretty boring,” Honey commented. She glanced shyly at Brian, hooking her arm through his. “However, I’m hoping things will get more exciting once Brian moves back to town.”

“That’s Brian, Mr. Excitement,” Mart said with a wink. “With all the Bob-Whites back in Sleepyside, it’ll be just like old times. Why, we’ll have to clean up the old clubhouse and start having meetings again.”

Honey’s hazel eyes sparkled with excitement. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a fundraiser, just like we used to? I haven’t had that much fun in ages.”

“Maybe we could raise some money for the school?” Dan suggested. “We could use it to take the kids on a trip.”

“Are you volunteering to chaperone?” Jim inquired jokingly.

Dan shrugged his shoulders. “If you need me to. You know I’ve got a soft spot for troubled kids. Helping out at the school was one of the reasons I always wanted to come back home.”

“That’ll be great, Dan,” Jim told him with a warm smile.

“It sounds like this year is going to be full of surprises,” Di said.

Mart peeked at his watch. “Well, it’s not time for the ball to drop yet. We still have a little over an hour.”

“Gives me just enough time to scope out a pretty girl to kiss at the stroke of midnight,” Dan remarked with a devastating grin. He stood up and saluted those still seated. “I shall return, but in case I don’t… Well, don’t wait up for me.” After a devilish wink, he walked away.

Honey smiled as she watched their single friend’s departure. Once he had gotten lost in the crowded ballroom, she poked Brian with her elbow. “I sure wish somebody would ask me to dance.”

“Want me to ask that guy over there in the powder-blue seventies tux if he thinks you’re hot?” Brian offered. He grimaced as Honey punched his arm. “Oh! You wanted me to ask you!”

“Correction.” Honey folded her arms huffily. However, the twinkle in her wide, amber-colored eyes belied her angry farce. “I used to want you to ask me to dance, until a minute ago. Now, I’d rather dance with Seventies Man.”

“Please?” Brian cajoled contritely. “They’re playing our song.”

As hard as she tried, Honey could not keep a smile from tugging at her lips. “ ‘Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer’ is our song?”

In spite of the pressure, Brian didn’t bat an eye. “Of course it is. Don’t you remember when we decided that?”

“I must’ve been asleep during that discussion,” Honey responded with a laugh. She stood up and held out her hand to her boyfriend. “But I’ll take your word for it. C’mon, Rudy, let’s hit the dance floor.”

“How about we show those amateurs the right way to waltz?” Mart asked Diana, putting an arm around her slender shoulders.

A sly smile parted Di’s full lips. “Actually Mart, I was thinking that it was a shame that Mummy is over there talking instead of dancing. She’s so light on her feet, you know. And although poor Daddy tries to keep up with her, he steps on her toes more than he does the floor. He’s not nearly as nimble as you are, love.”

“Why do I have the feeling that the other shoe is about to drop?” Mart inquired skeptically.

Di’s smile turned coy as she continued. “Mummy always enjoys dancing with you so much, sweetheart, so could you please ask her? Just for a few songs…”

“I suppose I could,” Mart answered a bit hesitantly. “But you’ll cut in before the clock strikes midnight, right?”

“Of course, darling.” Di cupped her husband’s rugged cheek, caressing his jaw line with her thumb.

“ ‘Cuz I wouldn’t want to have to kiss your mom when it’s officially the New Year,” Mart continued, his blue eyes pleading. “Not that she’s not a lovely lady, but your dad’s kind of gargantuan, and if he sits on me—”

Di leaned closer to him, allowing her ample cleavage to brush against his arm. “I definitely want to be kissing you at midnight,” she whispered, quite aware of the fact that she was blowing in her husband’s ear in a seductive manner. “And when we get home, we’ll ring in the New Year properly.”

“What if I want to ring it in improperly?” Mart inquired with a devilish smile.

“Your wish is my command,” Di purred, fluttering her thick, sooty lashes flirtatiously.

A loud clearing of the throat coming from Trixie’s general vicinity caused the two lovers to cease their conversation. “Excuse me, but could you two please stop with the sexual innuendos?” Trixie wrinkled her nose in disgust. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what you’re really implying, and frankly, your euphemisms are making me kind of queasy.”

Mart stood up and puffed out his chest. “I’m going, but for the record, it isn’t because you asked me to; I’m merely consenting to my bewitching bride’s request to ‘trip the light fantastic’ with her beauteous maternal forebear.” He paused his oration long enough to blow a kiss at his wife. “I’ll ‘innuendo’ with you later.” And with a gallant bow, he was off to find Carolyn Lynch.

“Good grief,” Trixie groaned. “You two are disgusting. You make rabbits look celibate.”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” Di said with a wink.

Jim suddenly developed a nasty cough. “I’m still here, Di,” he managed between hacks. “And do I need to remind you that I’m easily embarrassed when you girls start talking about bow-chicka-wow-wow stuff?”

“Then go away,” Di retorted. Her bottom lip distended in a pretty pout. “Seriously, why don’t you go over there and rescue your poor mother? She’s trapped at that table with your father and his business associates, and she looks like she’s ready to die from boredom.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me,” Jim commented with a raise of his ginger brows.

“Of course I’m trying to get rid of you,” Diana openly admitted. “I already told you to go away. What more do you need to hear? Now be a good boy and entertain your mother before I go into intimate details about my last menstrual cycle.”

Jim’s brows immediately went downward. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” Di challenged, grinning wickedly. “I’m quite willing to discuss this topic at length, if I have to. Flow, consistency, longevity, mood swings, cramps—”

“You win!” Jim hopped up from the table, his freckled hands covering his delicate ears. “Once I’m out of hearing range, you may proceed with your discussion of your tampons with wings.”

“Don’t be gone too long,” Trixie told him as he made his escape.

“That was easy enough,” Di stated smugly.

Trixie giggled. “I’ll have to remember that trick. It may come in handy someday.”

“The key is not to overuse it,” Di instructed. “Menstrual warfare is a powerful weapon, and should be wielded wisely. It’s only to be used in life and death situations.”

“Such as?”

“Such as when you’re in dire need of a Butterfinger Blizzard from Dairy Queen at two o’clock in the morning and there’s a foot of snow outside,” Di confessed.

“You’re positively evil. And I love you for it.” Trixie looked at her sister-in-law with renewed respect. “I just have one more question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why were you so anxious to get rid of everyone?” Trixie queried.

Di assumed her most angelic expression. “I just thought it would be fun to have a little girl talk with my favorite sister-in-law,” she answered, flipping her blue-black hair off her shoulders.

“Okay,” Trixie replied gamely. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Di said in an offhand manner. “The usual stuff, I suppose. The latest gossip, the New Year’s shindig at Crabapple Farm tomorrow, why you won’t decide on a wedding date…”

“A-ha!” Trixie exclaimed, her right index finger pointed upward in triumph. “I knew you were up to something!”

“Don’t even try to change the subject, missy,” Di ordered sternly. “Just answer the question.”

Trixie scowled at her sister-in-law. “Jane Morgan’s having an affair with her boss, the shindig should be fun, and none of your business. Does that take care of everything?”

“Nice try, Trixie, but unfortunately, I learned how to meddle from the master.” Di paused briefly, and then added, “You.”

With a defiant squaring of her shoulders, Trixie turned her face the other way so she wouldn’t have to look Diana in the eye.

“You can’t keep avoiding this topic forever, you know,” Di continued. “Sooner or later, you’re going to have to make a decision, Trix. Unless you plan on stringing Jim along forever, that is.”

With a gasp, Trixie whipped her head back around to glare at Di. “I am not stringing him along.”

“Then why haven’t you picked a date?” Di challenged. “You know how much being married and having a family of his own means to Jim.”

“Jim doesn’t—”

“Don’t expect me to believe that crap about Jim not being anxious,” Di interrupted with a shake of her head. “If you told Jim you wanted to get married tomorrow, he’d walk barefoot up a mountain of broken glass all the way to the chapel, carrying you in his arms. Why don’t you give the guy a break?”

Trixie released a labored sigh and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Surely you aren’t procrastinating because you don’t want to plan the wedding?” Di asked, one ebony brow arched inquisitively.

“Of course not,” Trixie responded wearily. “I mean, I’m not clicking my heels at the prospect of handling all those annoying details, but I’ll deal with it. Besides, some fancy-schmancy wedding planner will take care of most it. After the hectic holiday season is over, we’ll work something out.”

“I know you’re just using that ‘hectic holiday’ junk as an excuse,” Di stated evenly. “Once New Year’s is over, there’ll be Valentine’s Day. After that, it’ll be Groundhog Day, then Easter, and then Daylight Savings time. Eventually you’re going to run out of special occasions.”

Trixie remained silent, allowing her scowl to do her talking for her.

Di carefully studied her friend through narrowed eyes. “I certainly hope you’re not doing this to get back at Jim for getting engaged to Amanda.”

“I can’t believe you’d say that, Diana Belden!” Trixie hissed angrily. “Do you think I’m a cold-hearted wench?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Di said honestly, her hands raised in resignation. “There has to be some reason you’ve refused to broach the subject. You may be the one with the private investigator’s license, but I’m a pretty good detective, too, when it comes to matters of the heart.”

Trixie stared down at her hands, wishing her sister-in-law wasn’t so perceptive. She hoped if she waited long enough, Diana would give up and change the subject. However, she had no such luck; Di’s violet gaze remained firmly fixed upon her, a sure sign that she would stubbornly wait for Trixie’s response as long as it took.

After a long pause, Trixie finally mumbled, “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You don’t know that,” Di gently assured her. “And even if I don’t understand, I can still listen.”

Trixie looked up, her china blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. “What would you understand about being insecure, Miss Sleepyside Junior-Senior Homecoming Queen?”

Di laughed bitterly. “Trixie, I fight insecurities every day of my life.”

Trixie snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, right. Why would you be insecure? You had everything: your family was loaded, you were the prettiest girl in town, all the boys were ga-ga about you, especially Mart...”

Diana’s expression grew somber as her mind traveled to a time in the not-so-distant past. “That stuff didn’t help me feel more confident, Trixie. It only made me feel more pressured to be perfect. Why do you think I screwed up in all those plays I did in school?”

“I just thought you forgot your lines,” Trixie admitted, her tone expressing mild surprise. “I had no idea you were self-conscious.”

“Well, I was,” Di told her. “I knew that everyone believed I got the leads in all the school plays because of my looks.”

“Not everyone.” Trixie reached over and squeezed Di’s hand.

“All right, everyone but the Bob-Whites,” Di amended with a hint of a snort. “You know that’s what Jane Morgan and all her friends said.”

Trixie merely smiled in response.

“See, deep down you know I’m right.” Di’s lips split into a smile of her own, but strangely it wasn’t bitter; she looked positively contented. “But I finally got to the point where their opinions didn’t matter so much. I learned to like myself.”

“How were you able to do that?” Trixie inquired, her voice full of wonder.

“The love of a good man.” Di searched across the crowded room until her gaze fell upon her husband. Without saying a word, her affectionate expression spoke multitudes. “Mart encouraged me to start seeing myself through his eyes. When I tried it, I actually liked what I saw.”

“So Mart built up your self-esteem?”

Diana shrugged. “He helped, but gaining more confidence was something that I had to do myself; Mart only started the process. I finally decided if a wonderful man like Mart worshiped the ground I walked on, I had to have something going for me.”

“You have a lot going for you, Di,” Trixie said with a snicker.

“And so do you, my friend,” Di countered, her voice quiet but sure.

When Trixie remained silent, Di continued. “You know, Trix, Jim could have any woman he wanted. He’s handsome, rich, and a nice guy to boot. You weren’t exaggerating earlier when you called him Sleepyside’s Most Eligible Bachelor; he was one of the country’s most eligible bachelors before he got engaged.”

“I know all that,” Trixie confirmed, her tone sharp. “He deserves some gorgeous model-type, not a short, stubby, clumsy detective.”

“He was engaged to a gorgeous model-type,” Di reminded her gently, “and he dumped her for the short, stubby detective.”

Trixie frowned grumpily. “You forgot clumsy.”

“Regardless, if you’re clumsy or not,” Di hedged with a cheeky grin, “he dumped Amanda and chose you.” She leaned closer to her sister-in-law, and added in a fervent whisper, “He chose you, Trix. Don’t you know how much he loves you?”

“Sort of,” Trixie whispered in her quietest voice.

Realization finally dawned upon Diana. “Is this why you haven’t set a wedding day?”

Trixie sighed heavily as she wiped a tear that was trickling down her cheek. “No! I know Jim loves me. It’s just that…” She groaned in frustration, clutching a fistful of sandy curls in her right hand. “Never mind. I tried to talk to Honey about this and she didn’t understand, so you probably won’t either.”

“Try me.” Di’s kind eyes beseeched Trixie to share her burden.

Finding comfort in those violet orbs, Trixie relented. “I’m feeling a lot of pressure about the wedding,” she whispered.

“What kind of pressure?” Di prompted. “Surely Jim isn’t pressuring—”

“It’s not Jim that’s pressuring me,” Trixie assured with a shake of her head. “It’s being Jim’s wife.”

Di furrowed her brow inquisitively. “What do you mean by that?”

After Trixie gulped back the lump that had risen in her throat, she choked out, “The truth is, Di, that I’m scared to death of embarrassing Jim. You know our wedding will be attended by every gossip columnist in New York.”

“Oh, Trixie.” Di drew back in surprise, her almond-shaped eyes filled with sympathy. “Why would you worry about a thing like that?”

Trixie snorted loudly. “If you haven’t noticed, Di, I have a slight problem with staying upright, especially when I’m all gussied up. On a normal day, I trip over air, but put a dress on me and I’m guaranteed to fall flat on my face without even moving my feet. I have visions of wiping out the whole front row on the groom’s side as I plunge headfirst up the aisle. Someone will probably be videotaping, and they’ll send it to ‘America’s Funniest Home Videos’.”

“Oh, Trixie,” Di repeated sadly. “Is this why you’ve been acting so strangely about the wedding? Are you scared you’ll create a scene?””

Trixie nodded glumly. “I’d rather die than humiliate Jim.”

“Sweetie, he wouldn’t care if you wore a chicken suit and did somersaults up the aisle,” Di said with a laugh. “Of course, that might guarantee you a spot on America’s Funniest Home Videos…”

“That’s not funny,” Trixie interrupted, failing to hide a smile. “I could cause serious problems by simply doing what I do best… leaving a path of utter destruction behind me.”

“Trixie, even if you do fall and land in the lap of one of Mrs. Wheeler’s snooty English relatives, so what? It won’t be the end of the world.”

“Don’t you know how serious this is, Di?” Trixie protested. “What if Jim eventually gets sick of me always putting my foot in my mouth instead of keeping it on the ground where it belongs? What if he decides that he doesn’t love me anymore?” She halted her speech momentarily to wipe another tear, and then added in a barely audible voice, “What if he decides that he should’ve married Amanda instead of me?”

Di deftly rose from her spot across the table and sat back down in the seat beside Trixie. “Oh, sweetie, that’ll never happen. Jim loves you, all of you, the bad along with the good. And when a man like Jim gives you his heart, he never asks for it back. He believes in a forever kind of love, just like Win and Katie had, and Nell and James. He found that kind of love with you.”

“Do you really believe that?” Trixie’s voice was soft, but her tone was hopeful.

“With all my heart.” Di squeezed her hand in an effort to offer some reassurance. “Trixie, when a man looks at the woman he loves, he sees perfection. Sure, she may have faults, but when you truly care for someone, those flaws aren’t important. You see, he’s looking through eyes of love, and those eyes aren’t nearly so critical.”

Di giggled suddenly. “Do you want to hear something funny?”

Trixie nodded.

“A few weeks ago, Mart and I were having dinner with my family. Gracie announced that she’d gotten the lead in a play at school, and Larry and Terry mentioned that historical play we did in fifth grade. Do you remember it?”

“Are you talking about the one where you called Benedict Arnold ‘Arnold Benedict’ from beginning to end?” Trixie asked with a sheepish grin.

“That’s the one,” Di said, laughing. “I knew I should’ve burned that old video somebody gave Mummy and Daddy years ago. Anyway, Mart commented what a wonderful actress I’d been in that production. Larry interrupted and asked him if he was sure Mart was talking about the same play.”

Trixie chuckled ruefully. “Poor Mart.”

“He kept arguing that I should’ve won an award for my stellar performance,” Di added in amusement. She paused for a moment, her large eyes wistful. “He really was sweet.”

“Are you sure he didn’t forget what really happened?” Trixie couldn’t resist asking.

Di shook her head. “It wasn’t like he forgot the entire play. He perfectly described the costume I was wearing, down to the red bow in my hair. And he honestly didn’t remember how I turned our dramatic presentation of the founding of our country into a comedy.”

“How do you know he wasn’t just sucking up to you?” Trixie arched one brow critically. “Mart never forgets anything with that photographic memory of his.”

“No, Mart remembered the situation exactly how he saw it.” Diana glanced back over at her stocky husband who was still patiently waltzing around the ballroom with his mother-in-law. “The truth is, he loves me. He really loves me, Trixie. And true love overlooks a multitude of faults.”

Trixie furrowed her brow as she pondered Di’s words. “So you’re saying that since Jim loves me, he might not remember all the times I’ve fallen on my face?”

“That’s what I’m saying. And even if he does remember every single one of your most embarrassing moments, he obviously isn’t bothered by them.”

“I don’t know, Di…” Trixie began doubtfully.

Diana looked up as Mart approached the table. She gave Trixie a sly smile. “I’ll prove it to you.” Her smile became bewitching as she focused her full attention on her husband.

“Ready to show these people how to dance?” Mart asked hopefully.

“I’d love to, sweetheart,” Di answered in her huskiest voice. “But first, could you answer a question for me?”

“Sure,” Mart agreed with a shrug.

“Trixie and I were just talking about the old days, and the subject of our freshman play came up,” Di explained matter-of-factly.

Mart nodded. “I remember it like it was yesterday. You were the loveliest and most talented lady to ever portray Juliet Capulet in the history of the theater.”

“You’re so sweet,” Di replied with a flutter of her long lashes. “But you’re too good to me, darling. Don’t you remember how I messed up our final dress rehearsal? You were there.”

Trixie narrowed her eyes for a millisecond as she tried to recall the event about which Diana was speaking. Once she remembered, she had to stifle a hoot. Mart, however, still wore a puzzled expression.

“It was during the balcony scene,” Di reminded him. “I thought for sure Miss Darcy would replace me after I messed up that line so terribly.”

Mart scratched his chin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Di.”

“What do you remember?” Di prompted.

“The play opened on Valentine’s Day, so the final dress rehearsal was on February thirteenth,” Mart began. “During the balcony scene, you were wearing that velvet dress that Peter Ashbury had stolen. The long, red one with the fancy lace on it. You had your hair pulled up, and several curly tendrils framed your face. I remember that the spotlight shone behind you, making the gold thingie in your hair sparkle like a halo. You looked like an angel up there, and I don’t think you’d ever looked more beautiful. Jamie Kenworthy was Romeo, and when he kissed you, I wanted to punch him in the nose. Paul Victors played Tybalt, and he almost tripped on one of the trees Jim made—”

“Okay,” Trixie interrupted hastily. “It’s obvious you have a clear recollection of that night. But don’t you remember that line she flubbed? She messed it up constantly during rehearsals, but never as bad as that night. Some of the stagehands teased her horribly the next day at school.”

“Sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mart conceded, shrugging his shoulders in resignation.

Trixie flipped her hands up in disbelief. “I can’t believe you don’t remember!” She groaned disgustedly. “ ‘Good night, good night! Farting is such sweet sorrow! You really don’t remember?!”

“Di didn’t say that,” Mart argued stubbornly.

“Unfortunately, I did,” Di informed him with a giggle as she took his hand. “You’d better believe I was careful when I said that line on opening night. That would’ve been worse than ‘Arnold Benedict’.”

Mart shook his head quizzically. “I’m drawing a complete blank. Of course, I still can’t remember ‘Arnold Benedict’.”

“Never mind, love,” Di told him, placing a kiss on his hand.

“You two are truly disgusting,” Trixie declared with a shake of her head.

Di suddenly covered her mouth and hacked a cough worthy of an Oscar nomination, immediately drawing her husband’s concern.

“Are you okay, Di?” he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Once she caught her breath, Di responded. “I’m fine. I just have a tickle in my throat. Would you please get me some punch? I’m sure that would help.”

“Of course, kitten.” Mart studied his wife carefully, worry evident in his own eyes. Once he was sure she was okay, he left to find Di something to drink.

Once Mart was out of hearing distance, Diana turned back to Trixie, a smug grin on her face. “What do you think now?”

Trixie snickered. “I think you really do deserve an Oscar. You’re a much better actress than everyone thought.”

“Not about that,” Di argued. “What do you think about Mart?”

“I think he’s whipped,” Trixie muttered.

“He’s not whipped, just madly in love,” Di countered. “And Jim loves you just as much. Nothing could ever change that. If you’d give him half a chance, he’d prove it to you.”

“I want to believe you, but—”

“Look at yourself through Jim’s eyes,” Di interrupted, whispering earnestly. “I know you’d like what you’d see.”

Trixie nodded, as she tried to sort through the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in her mind. Before she could respond aloud, Mart returned to their table, punch in hand. Diana stood up gracefully, smoothing the skirt of her silver beaded dress.

“Here’s you something to drink, sweetheart.” Mart held out the small crystal glass to his wife, who eagerly accepted it. After taking a tiny sip, she set it back on the table and then hooked her arm through her husband’s elbow.

“Are you ready to try out that fancy footwork on me?” Di inquired, smiling flirtatiously at her husband.

“Ready, willing, and able,” Mart murmured. The pair wandered to the dance floor, leaving Trixie alone to mull.

Once by herself, a fierce match of tug-of-war waged in Trixie’s mind. On one side, all her insecurities fought to pull her down and trap her in the web of uncertainty. On the other, the hope that Diana correctly assumed Jim loved her unconditionally battled for victory. In the middle of the opponents, a miry pit of indecision waited for the loser.

A husky voice drew her out of her contemplations. “It’s a quarter till midnight, Shamus. How ‘bout we start the New Year right on the dance floor?”

Trixie mustered a smile as she attempted to squelch her unsettling thoughts. “I’d love to,” she responded, her voice wavering slightly. However, as she began to rise from her chair, the heel of her shoe caught in the hem of her dress. Wobbling precariously, a strong pair of freckled hands quickly steadied her and kept her from falling.

“Are you okay?” Jim asked.

Trixie closed her eyes tightly, silently cursing the ironic twist of fate. “I’m fine.”

He wrapped an arm securely around her waist. “I think I’ll just hold onto you for safekeeping,” he teased with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Trixie questioned ruefully, her pride stinging. “As klutzy as I am, I’d probably take you down with me.”

“Well, if we could land on the floor in a tangled heap, that’d be okay with me,” he joked with a mischievous grin.

Once they found an empty spot on the dance floor, Trixie enveloped herself in his sheltering embrace in an effort to appease her worries. Unfortunately, they refused to be silenced. “Jim?” she began in a soft voice.

“Trixie?” Jim grinned in that charming, lopsided manner of his.

“Do you ever get sick of me?” Her voice was barely audible.

“Sick of you?” Jim repeated in disbelief. “What’re you talking about?”

Trixie exhaled loudly. “Don’t you get sick of my clumsiness? You always have to pluck my klutzy butt off the floor.”

“Of course not. After all, it’s such a cute butt…” He playfully brushed his hand against the backside in question.

“I’m serious, Jim,” she replied sharply. “Do you ever wish I was more graceful… like…?”

“Like what?” he urged.

Trixie took a deep breath, and then hastily blurted, “Do you ever wish I was more like Amanda?”

Jim inhaled sharply. His green eyes hardened into shards of jade as he attempted to comprehend exactly what his fiancée had asked. “What did you say?”

The palms of Trixie’s palms prickled as she tried to squirm away from Jim’s intense glare. “Do you ever wish I was more like Amanda?” she repeated softly. “She was so classy and graceful and tactful. So… not like me.”

Jim shook his head, his mouth agape. “Trixie, I can’t believe you’d ask me that.”

“Just answer the question,” she urged, her shoulders squared defiantly.

A scowl marred his ruggedly handsome features. “Trixie, I give you my word of honor that I have never wished you more like Amanda in any way. To me, you’re perfect. Perfectly perfect, as Honey would say.”

“But what if I pull a typical ‘Trixie’ during our wedding?” she asked mournfully. “While I’m walking towards you, my feet could get tangled up in that white thing the ushers roll out for the bride to walk on, and then I could land in an undignified heap in the middle of the aisle with flower petals stuck to my face. What then?”

In spite of Trixie’s state of mental anguish, Jim couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’ve obviously spent a lot of time thinking about this, haven’t you?”

“It’s not funny, Jim!” she stormed. “What I’ve suggested isn’t crazy, considering I’ve done it a million times before.”

Jim merely shrugged, and it was obvious he was still amused. “Well, if you fall down, I’ll just help you up, pluck the flower petals from your face, and tell the minister to get on with it so I can have my evil way with you on our honeymoon.”

“Jim!” Trixie’s lips pinched in irritation. “Don’t you understand? I could do something at our wedding that would humiliate you for the rest of your life. Are you sure that won’t cause you to hate me?”

If she hadn’t looked so fearful, Jim probably would’ve laughed again. Instead, he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Shamus, do you remember what happened at Tom and Celia’s wedding?”

“Of course I do,” she snapped. “It’s one of the reasons I have nightmares of tripping face first into our wedding cake. Like a goon, I got my heel stuck in my hem, just like I did five minutes ago, and landed on my head in front of the staircase at Manor House. Brian and Mart stood there arguing about whose unpleasant task it would be to help me up, when you—”

“When I reached down to pick you up,” Jim supplied.

She nodded, her china blue eyes welling with tears of embarrassment at the memory. “Yes.”

“And who helped you up that time we collided in the hallway of Manor House?”

“You did,” Trixie replied quietly.

“And do you remember when you fell in the snowbank—”

“Technically, that wasn’t my fault,” she interjected hastily. “I was pushed.”

“True,” Jim conceded, grinning, “but I did help you up. And do you recall when we were looking for Uncle Andrew’s lost sheep at Happy Valley and you fell in the ravine? Who scrambled down that creek bed to set you upright?”

“Well, you did, but Brian helped…” she pointed out.

“And there was also that time you interrupted me while I was studying in the clubhouse, and you tripped on the uneven planked floor.”

“You didn’t help me up that time,” Trixie informed him, pouting petulantly. “I got up myself, thank you very much.”

“Only because you didn’t give me the chance,” Jim remarked with exaggerated disappointment. “I had hurried over to the doorway, but you were already on your feet.”

Trixie’s cheeks flamed a crimson red as she recalled the many times she had shown her lack of grace. “Jim, you’re not helping. Someone who’s obviously out of her freakin’ mind had given me the impression that you would’ve forgotten about all these embarrassing incidents by now, but apparently you have them all catalogued in alphabetical order somewhere.”

“You’re not listening to what I’m trying to say,” Jim told her, giving her a gentle shake. He looked down into her stormy blue eyes, his own emerald-colored eyes hazy with emotion.

“Trixie, if there’s one thing you should’ve learned by now, it’s that I’ll always be there to pick you up when you fall,” he continued fondly.

“That’s reassuring,” she said with a hint of sarcasm. “I’m glad you’ll be on standby the next time I wipe out.”

Jim sighed wearily, shaking his head in irritation. “Trixie, you still aren’t listening.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t—”

Jim impatiently placed his index finger on top of Trixie’s lips in an effort to silence her. “Just hush up and listen for once,” he commanded, his tone firm but gentle. “Beatrix Belden, during our wedding you may tumble down the aisle and plunge into the piano player’s lap, but there’s one place you’re certain to never fall from.”

“Where’s that?”

“The pedestal of my heart,” Jim responded earnestly. “You’re planted there, and nothing could ever make you budge. No matter how clumsy you think you are, no matter what you say, no matter what you do, you’re firmly fixed in my heart, and I couldn’t move you even if I tried.”

Although some might deem his sentiment disgustingly mushy, Trixie did not. His words were heartfelt, and the expression on his face personified the purest love a man could have for a woman. In that instant, all her insecurities began melting away and were replaced by confidence in Jim’s feelings for her.

He loves me, Trixie pondered wonderingly. He really, really loves me! Her heart skipped a beat as she reveled in the newfound feeling of liberation from her concerns. “You really love me,” she murmured aloud.

“You’re just now figuring this out?” Jim snorted. “Trixie, I’ve been madly in love with you since I first met you in Uncle James’ living room. The minute you tossed those sandy curls and gave me an indignant sniff, I was hooked.”

“I didn’t toss and sniff,” Trixie argued, a smile belying her tone.

“Yes, you did.” Jim gazed down fondly at her while he brushed a stray ringlet from the middle of her forehead. “Even though I was pointing a gun at you, you told me hotly that I didn’t have any business in your neighbor’s house. I may not have shot you, but cupid’s arrow got me right in the heart. I instantly fell head over heels in love with you, Shamus.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “We Frayne men are suckers for spunky blondes, you know.”

“And what if another blonde tries to sucker you?” Trixie queried anxiously.

He shook his head. “It’s simply not possible; Frayne men mate for life. We love with our whole hearts; that’s the only way we know how to do it. Why do you think Uncle James went so wacky after Aunt Nell’s death?”

“I never really thought about it,” she whispered.

“He was grieving himself to death because life wasn’t worth living without his bride.” Jim paused briefly to stroke Trixie’s cheek. “That’s how I plan on loving you the instant you become my wife… fervently and completely, till death do we part. And I guarantee that the words ‘I love Trixie Frayne’ will be my final words as I exit this world and enter the next.”

Trixie smiled up at him while she digested his words. Her heart began pounding wildly against her chest and her hands were trembling so badly that she was afraid they were like jackhammers on Jim’s back.

“So, now that I’ve shown you how corny I can be, why don’t we talk about something else?” Jim suggested with the grin that made her knees knock. “When should I pick you up for the luncheon at Crabapple Farm tomorrow?”

“July,” she blurted out hastily.

Jim cocked a skeptical ginger brow. “I’m pretty sure lunch will be over by then, Trix. Maybe I should pick you up sometime tomorrow morning?”

She shook her head, a newfound peace softening her pinched features. “You don’t understand; I’m not talking about lunch. I’ve decided when I want to marry you— July seventh, the day—”

“The day we met,” Jim choked out in amazement.

“Exactly!” Trixie exclaimed, her eyes shining. “That day had such a huge impact on both of our lives. I can’t think of any better day for us to get married.” She paused momentarily to study her future husband’s face. She had expected him to agree immediately and was shocked by his silence. “You’re not saying anything. Is something wrong?”

Shocked, Jim stopped swaying to the beat of the music and stood still in the middle of the ballroom. He finally managed to shake his head to signify a negative response.

“But you’re not saying anything,” she commented nervously. “Is that day all right with you? If it’s not, I can pick another one…”

“No,” was all he could say.

“Jim?” Trixie tugged on his arm to draw him out of his stupor. “Why aren’t you saying anything? What’s wrong? Please talk to me!”

Abruptly, Jim lifted her off her feet and swung her around in a circle. “Absolutely nothing!” he exalted. “I’ve never been happier in my entire life.”

Trixie sighed in relief. “Good. I worried for a minute that you were going into shock. I was about to yell for Brian.”

“I’m okay,” he assured her, putting her feet back on the ground. “But first promise me that I didn’t pressure you into making this decision. Do you really want to get married on July seventh?”

She nodded happily, a broad grin deepening the dimples on either side of her mouth. “I do.” She giggled suddenly. “I guess I’d better start practicing that since we’ll be saying it for real in a little over six months.”

“Six months…” he repeated, still reeling with surprise.

“That’s not too soon, is it?” She looked up at him, concern wrinkling her brow. “I guess we could wait until next year—”

“No!” Jim interjected quickly. “It’s not too soon. It’s perfect.”

Trixie nodded, her eyes brimming with joyful tears. “It will be perfect. Even if I trip and land on the flower girl, it’ll still be the best day of my life because I’ll finally be Mrs. James Winthrop Frayne the Second.” She sighed in contentment. “That sounds so good that I need to say it again: Mrs. James Winthrop Frayne the Second.”

“Do you know what else sounds good?” Jim questioned, his eyes twinkling.

“What?”

“Mrs. Beatrix Frayne,” he told her.

Trixie cleared her throat. “A-hem. Don’t you mean Mrs. Trixie Frayne?”

“Whatever your heart desires.” He lowered his lips and sealed their agreement with a kiss.

Suddenly, the countdown for the New Year began, although the husky redhead and the petite blonde in the middle of the dance floor didn’t seem to notice. All the other celebrants in the country club began to chant, “Five, four, three, two, one!” Once the ball had officially dropped, the orchestra played the traditional New Year’s anthem, “Auld Lang Syne”. Throughout the crowded ballroom, people began exchanging kisses and murmuring wishes for a happy New Year.

In the ballroom, one kiss in particular was full of promise. Neither even noticed when a camera flashed nearby. After Jim breathlessly released his fiancée, he leaned down and whispered huskily in her ear, “Thanks for starting the New Year right.”

“And thank you for keeping me from falling.” Trixie looked up at him, her face full of love. “I can’t wait to see what the New Year brings.”

“Well, I hope it brings some of this,” Jim murmured, leaning down to kiss her neck. “And a little of this…”

She giggled as he began to nuzzle her ears. “What else?”

“A whole lot of this is an absolute must,” he declared solemnly before placing his mouth on hers.

“And what else?” she inquired after the much-too-brief kiss had ended.

“Well, after July seventh, we’ll start doing this…” He leaned down to finish his sentence in a very hushed tone.

Trixie giggled, a crimson heat creeping up her neck. “Did I say July seventh? I meant January seventh.”

Jim grinned down at her, tenderly brushing a lock of sandy hair behind her ear. “Nope, no changing your mind now. My heart’s set on July seventh.”

“Then July seventh it is,” she said, the dimples on either side of her mouth deepening as she smiled happily. “Happy New Year, Jim.”

“Happy New Year to you, too, Shamus.” Jim leaned down and kissed her forehead. “No matter what the upcoming year brings, I’m glad I’ll be spending it with you.”

“Me too,” she whispered with a dreamy sigh.

Once again, she marveled at her contentment. Her china blue eyes looked up at Jim, and then searched for the rest of her friends. They took on a new sparkle as Trixie wondered what surprises the New Year would bring to their universe.

The End

(Well, at least until the next morning…)

Credits:

This story is CWP 2.3. The Required Elements are: pumpkin bread (Trixie asks which Dan prefers, pumpkin or banana), Muzak (Brian complains about the Muzak playing at the hospital), mislabeled gifts (Diana mixing up her mom’s and Mart’s scrapbooks), daylight savings time (Di mentions this), people mentioning when it’s appropriate to begin listening to Christmas music (the BWGs’ opinions of this varied, but I side with Di J ), scrapbook (two are mentioned: one for Mart and one for Carolyn Lynch), lipstick smudges (Trixie leaves one on Jim), blizzard or snowstorm (If there had been one, Trixie would’ve strapped on Honey’s CDs and escaped to the Farm), ice skates (the CDs were to be used as these), trying to organize something big during the busy holiday season (Jim and Trixie’s wedding, of course!), Where the Wild Things Are (Dan’s gift to Tom and Celia’s daughter), and the carryover element: a new construction from CWP 2.1 (Jim and Trixie’s new house).

Thank you to my marvelous editors, Steph H and Mal. You ladies rock! Mal, I’ll get that check in the mail to your dentist ASAP. *wink*

As I’ve said before, New Year’s Day is my anniversary so it’s very special to me. I always enjoy posting a sappy romantic comedy in honor of that occasion.

The song featured, “Let’s Start the New Year Right”, was written by Irving Berlin and sung by the great Bing Crosby in the movie “Holiday Inn”. And yes, I ‘dore it, and I DID start the New Year right when I married my sweetie.

Teen Town is dress shop mentioned in the book #4.

I know Diana’s parents would have paid for her a new evening gown, but I really liked the idea of her not depending upon their wealth. I don’t think she’d forget her Bob-White values, so I see her pinching her pennies.

Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers are a famous dancing pair.

As a matter of fact, using Biblical feasts and the times of Jewish taxing as a guideline, the time of Jesus’ birth most likely occurred around September fifteenth. So, if you want to sing carols around the middle of September, knock yourself out. I know I do. J

For the record, nobody sings like Bing Crosby (sorry, Mark!). If I have a bad headache, Bing’s version of “White Christmas” (is there any other version?) always makes me feel better. Seriously!

The mention of the high-definition, wide-screen plasma television was an affectionate nod to my hubby. And apparently, Mart’s affinity for such things runs in the family… You’ll see what I mean later. *veg*

Yes, give a man a puppy or a baby to hold and he will become the hottest guy in town. Trust me.

In “Why Do Falls Fall in Love?”, we learned that Trixie and Honey attended college in Niagara Falls. This story will also explain the truth behind Mr. Winky, as well as the scoop on Jim’s first fiancée, socialite Amanda Woodward.

For the whole story about Dan quitting the NYPD, you can read “Wood-chopping 101: The Future”.

For the explanation of the Montage of Learning Library, read “The Gumshoes”.

Dairy Queen does offer Butterfinger Blizzards, and for the record, they are the best!

In #4 we learn that Diana did indeed confuse “Benedict Arnold” with “Arnold Benedict”. And yes, she did turn every serious play into a comedy. However, as far as I could tell, no grade was mentioned, so I took liberties there.

Yes, in #29 Diana did star as Juliet Capulet in the freshman class production of Romeo and Juliet, Jamie Kenworthy was Romeo, she did wear the velvet dress described, Paul Victors did play Tybalt, Jim did make the scenery, and Diana did screw up the balcony scene frequently. However, the account of the final dress rehearsal wasn’t recorded in the book, so more liberties were taken, such as the gold thingie in her hair and especially “Good night! Good night! Farting is such sweet sorrow.”

“America’s Funniest Home Videos” is a TV show featuring embarrassing/hilarious moments caught on videotape. Although I haven’t watched that show in years, strangely it found its way in TWO of my holiday stories. *perplexed look*

I couldn’t relate to Trixie very much in the books, but there was one trait we shared— our horrible insecurity. I knew at some point her insecurities about Amanda would resurface, so I hope I wrote this story believably and that you can all understand why she procrastinated as she did.

Diana’s line about true love overlooking a multitude of faults paraphrases some very true scripture references. And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins. 1 Peter 4:8

Thank you to all the lovely Jixsters who helped me think of moments in the books where Trixie was…err… less than graceful. Not all of those moments actually recorded Jim helping Trixie up; however, being the gentleman that his is, it could be implied. *bg*

Thank you also to the lovely Jixsters who helped me decide upon July seventh as the date Jim and Trixie met. I appreciated all of your input!

What surprises await this universe this coming year? Well, I have a few things up my sleeve, the first of which begins the next morning…