Author’s note:

This story takes place after the Glimpses into the Future Universe feature, “Guess Who’s Coming To Tea”. However, this story can easily stand alone and can be enjoyed without having read any of my previous “releases”. In case you’re new to The Cameo and aren’t “up” on past screenings, Jim and Trixie are engaged to be married on July seventh, at the chapel of Ten Acres Academy. And don’t forget to check out the Blooper Reel once you’ve read the story (no peeking!)!

Our story begins during Trixie, Honey, & Diana’s junior year of high school…

At Manor House…

Trixie Belden sighed heavily as she slammed shut her English Literature book. “Enough Shakespeare, already. Who’s ready to raid the fridge?”

“Me!” Di exclaimed excitedly. She cast her own textbook aside and jumped up from her spot on Honey’s bed.

Honey gave both of her friends a chastising look. “You two are acting as if we’ve been working for hours. For your information, we’ve only been studying for twenty minutes and have barely gotten started on our assignment. It has to be done by next Monday, you know.”

“That’s over a whole week from now,” Trixie pointed out in her most convincing tone. “I don’t want to spend our entire weekend doing schoolwork. After all, Jim and Brian are home from college and—”

“And Trixie was hoping to sneak in a fond glance or two from the most wonderful boy in the world before he goes back to Connecticut,” Di interjected tartly.

With an indignant huff, Trixie whacked Diana on the back of the head with one of the throw pillows from Honey’s bed. “Harvard’s in Cambridge, Massachusetts— not Connecticut, you goof,” she corrected.

Diana laughed as she smoothed her fringe of thick blue-black bangs, which had been mussed by Trixie’s assault. “You can correct my geography, but you can’t deny that you were wishing for fond glances,” she teased in a sing-song voice.

Honey giggled as she watched the exchange between her two best friends. “How about we quit teasing Trixie, work on our project for an hour or so, and then go find a snack?”

“Party pooper,” Di joked, her generous lips forming a petulant pout. “Seriously, if it’s okay with Trixie to study for a little bit longer, it’s okay with me.”

Trixie frowned and then shrugged her shoulders in resignation. “I guess I’m not in any danger of fainting from hunger,” she agreed. “I’ll survive.”

Di blinked her eyes coyly, a mischievous smile planted firmly on her mouth. “But will you survive without any of those fond glances?”

Trixie hurled a murderous glare at Diana, and purposely ignored her final statement. “So, what’re we doing for our Shakespeare project?”

“I’m not sure what we’re doing, but I can tell you that when you were staring out the window thinking about Jim, you volunteered to do all the work,” Di cracked. Since she found English Lit so boring, she had to have some way to entertain herself.

Trixie responded in the mature manner of the typical sixteen-year-old girl— by sticking out her tongue at her friend.

Honey, determined to prevent her procrastinating companions from veering off track, had to keep the conversation serious in spite of her friends’ byplay. She chewed on her lower lip as she pondered Trixie’s earlier question. “We could make a movie poster advertising one of his plays.”

“You mean Di could make a poster,” Trixie corrected, nodding in the beautiful artist’s direction. “I didn’t inherit any of Moms’ drawing ability; I can’t even make a good stick person.”

“You can, too,” Di argued. She affectionately nudged Trixie on the arm with her elbow. “However, if you’re worried, I could actually draw the pictures, and then you and Honey could color them, if you’d like.”

Honey nodded her head eagerly. “We could do that.”

“Of course,” Di commented, pursing her lips thoughtfully, “I heard that Nick and Amy’s group is making posters, and you know what a fabulous artist Nick is. I’m okay, but Nick’s pictures blow mine away. Wouldn’t we rather to do something different?”

Trixie bobbed her head up and down, allowing her sand-colored curls to bounce around her heart-shaped face. “I would. After all, Mrs. Shultz gives the highest grades to the most original projects, and I need an ‘A’ on this if I want to score above a C this semester.”

“Well, what can we do?” Honey queried. “Act out a scene from one of the Bard’s plays?”

“That’s what Jane Morgan’s doing,” Di answered, her mouth pinched in irritation. Her shiny, ebony ponytail zipped through the air as she whirled around to face Honey. “Jane conned Joel King into doing the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet with her.”

“Give me a break!” Trixie exclaimed. Her round eyes hardened into pellets of china blue ice. “You know she’s just doing that because she’s still sore that you got the role of Juliet instead of her our freshman year.”

Diana didn’t seem concerned about Jane’s choice of project; however, her cheeks brightened with pleasure as Trixie voiced her support. “Well, it’s a free country. If she wants to play Juliet to Joel’s Romeo, that’s fine with me.” A wicked smile played at the corners of her full lips. “Of course, I’m not going to be the one to tell her that Joel’s even worse than me about forgetting his lines…”

Trixie and Honey giggled madly at the innocent expression the violet-eyed beauty assumed.

“We could act out a scene, but in a totally different way,” Di considered aloud.

“What do you mean?” Honey inquired, her tawny-colored eyebrows furrowing with curiosity.

“Well, we could make puppets that look like the characters featured in one of Shakespeare’s plays, and have them act out a scene,” Di suggested. Plagued by a consistent nagging doubt any time she voiced an opinion, a self-deprecating frown peeked through her usually confident features.

“Puppets?” Honey repeated. “That sounds like a really neat idea, Di. But how would we make them?”

Trixie laughed. “I have some socks I’d be willing to donate to the cause,” she offered. She held up her left foot to show off the hole in the white sock she was wearing, which exposed her big toe.

“I had a different kind of puppet in mind,” Di said with a giggle. “Although, if it’ll keep you from wearing those ratty socks ever again, I’m sure we can find a purpose for that particular pair.”

Honey’s mouth dipped downward in a frown. “Making puppets sounds like a lot of work. Do you think we could get them finished in time?”

“I don’t think we’d have a problem; they’d be rather simple to make.” Diana blinked her thick, sooty lashes thoughtfully as she began to explain her idea. “Mummy and I went to the craft store a few weeks ago— she’s redecorating again, you know— and I noticed they had some four-inch Styrofoam balls. If we bought a few of those, we could paint faces on the front of them and hot glue some doll hair on the tops. They have fake hair in all sorts of colors at the same shop where I saw the Styrofoam balls.”

“What would we do for the puppets’ bodies?” Trixie asked with a wrinkle of her pert nose.

Di twirled the tip of her ponytail around in a clockwise motion. Suddenly, she began to chuckle. “Actually, that’d be a good use for your socks. Honey could stitch up the holes, and after that we could cram pillow stuffing in them, and then sew them closed.”

“That would work,” Honey said, nodding. “Maybe we could bend a wire hanger into a cross shape, stick the head onto the top, and put the stuffed sock on the bottom. We could use the other two ends as arms.”

Di looked around Honey’s room for paper, but not seeing any, she shook her English Lit textbook until a piece of scrap paper fell out onto the bed. She picked it up and hastily scrawled a sketch on the back. “Like this, Honey?”

“Perfect!” Honey exclaimed.

Trixie gasped dramatically. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink as she grew more eager about their assignment. “And Honey, you could sew costumes for the puppets. You’d be so good at that!”

“Oh, how fun!” Honey squealed, clapping her hands in delight. “Why, this’ll be the most fun project we’ve ever done in school!” Her unabashed enthusiasm proved to be contagious, and soon her two friends had contracted her zeal.

“Which play do we want to make puppets for?” Di questioned.

“How about The Taming of the Shrew?” Trixie proposed. “Di and I could work on the Katharina and Pertruchio puppets while Honey makes their costumes.”

“Excellent!” Honey’s enormous hazel eyes sparkled as they did any time she was excited about something. “Trixie, does your mother have any spare material?”

“I’m sure she does,” Trixie stated with a shrug. “She’s been doing a lot of quilting lately, since Bobby’s in school and she doesn’t have any canning to do.”

“Do you think we could go over to Crabapple Farm later and see what she has?” Honey inquired hopefully. “If she doesn’t mind sharing her scraps, I’m sure we could find something that would work for the puppets.”

“I don’t see why not,” Trixie replied.

Di, who had been flipping through the pages of her textbook, inhaled sharply, and then began pointing to the picture she had found. “These outfits are fabulous! Honey, could you make something like this for our puppets to wear?”

Honey’s brows furrowed as she studied the illustration in the book. “I’m sure I could; they look simple enough. But I’m not sure I like the collar on that dress.” She motioned for the piece of paper Di had drawn on earlier. After she had it in her possession, she quickly sketched a picture of her ideas, and then held it out for her friends to see. “What do you think of this?”

“Looks good to me,” Trixie said approvingly.

“Me too,” Di agreed. “If the detective gig doesn’t work out, I think you could easily have a career in fashion design.” She glanced around Honey’s bedroom again. “Hon, do you have any paper we could draw some sketches on? And maybe some colored pencils?”

“There’re some colored pencils in my desk,” Honey answered, “but I’m out of paper. My notebook’s downstairs and I used the last of my computer paper printing out the latest Lucy Radcliffe fanfic story. Jim probably has some, though.”

A secretive smile played across Diana’s mouth. Before she spoke, she glanced over at Honey and winked. “Trix, while we find Honey’s colored pencils, could you go ask Jim if he’d loan us some paper?”

Trixie’s cheeks tinged a slightly brighter shade of pink at the mere mention of a certain redheaded boy’s name. “Uh…sure,” she murmured, attempting to keep her tone casual. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Honey replied, returning Di’s wink. “Of course, we’ll be busy trying to decide what colors to use, so if you’re in Jim’s room for a long time, we may not notice.”

Trixie cast a doleful look at each of her friends as she walked to the door. “Remind me to pay both of you back in spades when we go to the Farm and get material.” With a proud toss of her curls, she exited the room, Diana and Honey’s giggles echoing behind her.

Trixie walked across the hall where Jim’s room was located. She clenched her fists in an effort to keep her hands from shaking. Why am I always so nervous whenever I talk to Jim? she asked herself with a sigh of exasperation. I mean, it’s just Jim. I’ve known him for ages…

You mean you’ve loved him for ages, a voice deep inside, coming from the general vicinity of her heart, corrected.

Trixie gasped as she tried to forget that she’d even thought such a thing, but in the back of her mind, she was forced to acknowledge that there could possibly be a grain of truth to the statement. Pushing aside the uncomfortable thoughts that plagued her, she inhaled deeply and then rapped on Jim’s door. Her heart fluttered a bit as she heard his husky voice reply, “Who is it?”

She cleared her throat nervously, and then answered, “Trixie.”

“Come in.”

Trixie opened the door and went inside, looking around the room for Jim. She found him working at his desk, his tanned face bent towards an open Psychology book. At the sound of her approaching footsteps, he turned to face her, an easy grin on his handsome face. The soft flannel of his tan, long-sleeved shirt molded across the muscles of his back, accentuating the strength he possessed. She inhaled deeply, appreciating the tangy pine scent that could simply be described as “Jim”.

“Did you need something?”

“Huh?” Trixie blinked a few times, desperately trying to remember why she had come to his room in the first place. All rational thoughts vanished from her brain as she stuttered in a manner she was sure was incomprehensible. “I’m just… I think… We were…” Deciding to try a new plan of attack, she smiled brightly and asked, “Hey, what’re you doing?”

Amused by the petite blonde standing before him, Jim cast a fond glance at her, as he was often prone to do. “Just doing a little studying before we go to the movies with the rest of the Bob-Whites.”

“Am I bothering you?” she questioned, suddenly self-conscious and afraid that she was being a pest.

“Of course not,” Jim assured her. He swiveled his chair around to face her. “Shamus, you should know that you’re never a bother.”

Trixie tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, hoping that her hand would cover her blushing cheeks. For the millionth time, she rued the day that God gave her such an abundance of red pigment in her face.

Jim smiled as he pointed to his bed, which was positioned near his desk. “Sit down and stay a while. I could use a break from Freud.”

She meekly complied with his request and sat near the head of the twin-sized bed. “How’s college been?”

“Okay,” he said with a shrug. With a faint scarlet tint spreading over his own cheeks, he added, “But I sure do miss you… guys.”

“I… er… we miss you, too, Jim.”

Jim’s emerald gaze held Trixie’s sapphire one for several seconds. Time stood still as the two teenagers, both fearing they suffered from a serious case of unrequited love, savored the innocent moment. Trixie, wiggling from nerves, finally looked away. Her eyes fastened on the nightstand beside his bed. She gasped as she noticed a framed picture that she’d never seen before, since she rarely went in Jim’s bedroom.

The photograph featured a tall, husky, handsome redhead dressed in a tuxedo and embracing a petite blonde, curly tendrils framing her smiling face. The love the couple shared was obvious, almost coming alive from the two-dimensional photograph. The groom, a lopsided grin on his face, clasped the blushing bride’s hand close to his heart as the pair gazed into one another’s eyes, oblivious to the world around them.

“Are these your parents, Jim?” Trixie asked. As soon as the words popped out of her mouth she felt a bit silly, since it was obvious the subjects in the photograph were Winthrop and Katje Frayne.

Much to her relief, Jim didn’t act as though he found her inquiry foolish. He nodded in reply, a sentimental expression hovering around the corners of his eyes.

Though her fingers itched to pick up the picture for a closer inspection, Trixie thought it best to ask permission. Aware of how sensitive Jim was about his birth parents, she considerately inquired, “Do you mind if I look at it?”

“Not at all,” was his reply, his husky voice thick with emotion. He stood up from his spot at the desk, walked over to the bed, and sat down beside Trixie.

Gingerly picking up the picture so as to not drop it, she held it near her face. “Your mother’s so beautiful, Jim.” She didn’t even notice that she’d used the present tense, although Katje had been dead several years.

“Yes, she is,” Jim agreed, a tender smile on his lips. “When I was a little boy, I always thought Mom was the prettiest mother around.”

Trixie looked over at him, a smile on her own face. She didn’t bother telling him that she’d thought the same thing about her own mother when she was young. In fact, she still thought Moms was the youngest-looking and prettiest mother in all of Sleepyside. Maybe even in all of New York State.

“It’s so obvious by your father’s expression that he adores her,” she commented. “He’s looking at her like she’s the only woman in the entire universe.”

Jim smiled, wondering if Trixie realized he was looking at her the exact same way his father looked at his mother. “Dad told me the moment he saw Mom, he knew she was the girl for him,” he explained wistfully. “Dad said they met in the college library. Mom was hurrying to finish a paper for one of her classes, and Dad accidentally ran into her, knocking a huge stack of books out of her hands. When he tried to apologize, she jumped all over him, and he proceeded to lecture her about the evils of procrastination. You see, he was a boy scout, too.”

“At least you came by that trait honestly,” Trixie teased with a wink. “What’d your mom do?”

“She was fit to be tied,” he chuckled. “However, somewhere in the midst of their duking it out, his green eyes met her blue ones and something happened.”

Trixie looked up at him through lowered lashes. She was so breathless that she could barely choke out, “What was that?”

“They fell in love,” Jim replied with a grin. “From that moment on, Dad knew he was going to love Mom until the day he died.”

“And he was right,” she whispered.

“He was right,” he agreed with a nod. “The day he died Dad was still head over heels in love with Mom, and he would’ve done anything for her. When he said ‘Till death do we part’, he really meant it.”

Trixie nodded slowly as she studied the picture. “It sounds sort of like the stories I’ve heard about your great-uncle from Moms. He supposedly adored your Aunt Nell.”

“Yes.” In a rather daring move (at least for him), Jim added as casually as possible, “We Frayne men are suckers for blue-eyed blondes, you know. They’re our kryptonite.” He held his breath, waiting for a response.

However, instead of commenting about the Frayne men’s penchant for girls who closely resembled herself, Trixie’s mind had begun following a new tangent. “Where’d you get this picture of your parents, Jim?” she asked curiously.

“In the Family Bible I found at Uncle James’,” he explained, squelching the disappointment he felt about the abrupt change of subject. “It was just stuck inside, tucked firmly between two pages. Since I didn’t have any other photos of them, I framed it.”

Trixie’s head whirled around in Jim’s direction, a quizzical expression widening her already-round eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Very,” Jim responded, chuckling at her surprise. “Why’s that such a shock?”

“I thought we looked through that Bible and found everything,” she replied. “How on earth did we miss finding that picture?”

“The pages around the photo were sticky, so that’s probably why the picture didn’t fall out with Uncle James’ will,” he explained. He patted her arm in a consoling manner. “I didn’t find it myself until I was flipping through the New Testament one day. I was mighty surprised to see my parents’ faces smiling at me in the middle of the twelfth chapter of Luke.”

Satisfied with his explanation, Trixie smiled. “I’m glad you were the one to find it, Jim.” She returned her gaze to the photograph in her hands, this time focusing on the dashing redheaded man beside Katje. Jim was a carbon copy of his father. Both men wore the exact same crooked grins revealing the exact same cleft in their chins. They had the same thick red hair, and were built in the same tall, husky way. They even had the same bright emerald eyes. A dreamy sigh escaped before she could bite it back. She giggled as she noticed Jim’s curious glance.

“Your dad’s a regular dreamboat, Jim,” she admitted coyly.

He turned his head towards her in that way he often did, the way that made Trixie feel that they were the only two people on earth. “Everybody says I look just like him, you know,” he teased with a wink.

A hot blush crept down her cheeks and on past her neck. Trixie wanted to snap back with a clever retort, but since none came to mind, she wisely kept her mouth shut. Afraid to look up at him, she fastened her gaze on the photograph, meticulously studying every square inch of it.

“Hmm,” she murmured thoughtfully as she noticed something. “That’s strange.”

“Strange?” Jim quirked a ginger brow at her. “What’re you talking about?”

“Your mom and dad’s wedding rings,” Trixie answered impatiently. “They aren’t exactly alike.”

Jim chortled in surprise. “I can’t believe you noticed something so tiny in that big picture.”

Trixie shrugged her shoulders, a saucy grin on her face. “What can I say? Those little details stand out to me.”

“That’s why you’re such a good detective; you notice the little things,” he told her, pleased by the blush that spread across the apples of her cheeks. “And you’re right, Shamus; Mom and Dad’s rings are different from one another.”

“That’s odd,” Trixie remarked, aimlessly twirling a curl. “Usually the bride and groom’s bands are exactly the same. Didn’t they get a matching set?”

“They do have a set,” Jim stated, his tone slightly defensive. “Just because they aren’t exactly alike doesn’t mean the rings don’t go together.”

Afraid that she had offended him, Trixie quickly explained. “It’s not that I don’t like them, Jim. I do! It’s just that I’ve never seen wedding rings like these before, and I think they’re interesting. I was curious why they chose rings like that.”

He moved a bit closer to her on the guise of looking over her shoulder at the picture. “Mom and Dad got traditional Irish wedding bands. Each ring symbolizes something different.”

“But I thought your family was from Holland,” she pointed out with a wrinkle of her pert, freckled nose.

“Mom’s were, but Dad’s side of the family came from Ireland,” he explained. “The Fraynes have always been very proud of their Celtic heritage.”

Trixie nodded as she studied the framed photo. “So why are their rings different?” She giggled and then added hastily, “Not that there’s anything wrong with different, mind you.”

Jim grinned at her. “Dad had a Celtic warrior shield wedding ring and Mom had a Celtic Infinity knot band.”

“Neat,” Trixie commented, with an appreciative nod. “But what’s a warrior ring?”

“It’s a traditional Irish ring displaying your family’s crest,” he explained. “Dad told me that he’d done some research to find the Frayne family shield, and had it put on his wedding band. Mom always called him her knight in shining armor, so he thought it was appropriate to have a warrior ring.”

“Wow,” Trixie murmured, impressed by the account. “I can see your father being an old Irish warrior. So what about your mom’s ring? Do those marks on it mean anything, or are they just supposed to look pretty?”

Jim looked over at her affectionately. “First of all, Trix, those are knots, not ‘marks’.”

“Okay.” She exhaled loudly, pretending to be greatly exasperated with him. “Pray tell, kind sire, what do those knots mean?”

Grinning, Jim nonchalantly put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her near as he pointed to the ring in the picture. “There are several different Celtic designs that a couple could choose to have engraved on their wedding bands. Some of the common ones are hearts, arches, or the Claddagh design.”

“Which one is on your mother’s ring?” Trixie asked, looking up at him shyly.

“Mom chose a ring that had the Celtic infinity symbol on it,” Jim told her. “Any kind of wedding band signifies an undying love, since a circle has no beginning or end. The Celtic infinity ring goes a step further, having continuous knot-work throughout the band showing the couple’s, as well as God’s, infinite love.”

She nodded as she listened to the explanation, her china blue eyes wistful.

“Mom wanted an infinity ring to symbolize her love for Dad,” Jim explained, his voice thick with emotion. “She once told me that she was so in love with him that she couldn’t imagine living without him. She always said she’d follow him anywhere and do anything to be with him.”

“I believe that,” Trixie whispered thoughtfully, admiring the wedding bands in the picture. “Since your mom died just a few years after your dad, it was like she…” A horrified look on her face, she covered her open mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry, Jim.”

Jim blinked away a few tears that were beginning to gather in his emerald eyes. “It’s okay, Shamus.”

“No, it’s not, Jim.” A tear of her own trickled down Trixie’s cheek. “I didn’t mean to imply that your mom wanted to be with your dad more than she wanted to be with you. I don’t want you to think that...”

Jim, as usual, ignored his own hurting heart and reached up to brush away the moisture from Trixie’s cheeks. “I can’t tell you how often I’ve thought the same thing,” he murmured. “Deep down, I’ve always known that Mom wanted to be with Dad more than she wanted to stay here with me.”

“Oh, Jim,” Trixie whispered. “That’s not—”

“Please, don’t, Trix.” His request was simple, but it was heartfelt. His green eyes were solemn, and behind their emerald gates, there was an abyss of pain. “I don’t want to talk about this now.”

Trixie nodded in silent agreement. Upon a closer examination, she saw the pain lingering beneath the steely glint of his eyes. Though Jim’s jaw had stiffened as it was prone to do when he was being obstinate, she knew him better than anyone else; perhaps even better than he knew himself. She was able to look beyond his determined expression and see the hurting little boy under the tough exterior. Knowing nothing she could say would soothe his wounds, she merely nestled closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder, hoping her nearness would bring some sort of comfort to his aching heart.

“I think your parents’ rings are beautiful, Jim, and so is the sentiment behind them,” she finally managed in a raspy voice. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more romantic story.”

He nodded, a lump in his throat prohibiting him from speaking.

“Whatever happened to your parents’ wedding bands?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied after clearing his throat. “After Mom died, I was going to take them out of her jewelry box. I knew Jonesy wouldn’t want them and, after all, they did belong to my parents; there was no reason I shouldn’t have them. So one day when Jonesy was gone, I snuck back to the room he and Mom had shared. I found her jewelry box, but there was nothing inside.”

He shook his head mournfully. “Jonesy probably hocked them for a few bucks. He’d do anything to make a dollar, even pawn my parents’ wedding rings without telling me.”

Trixie tipped her chin up to look at him, tears forming in her round eyes. “Oh, Jim. I’m so sorry.”

Jim, not knowing what to say, simply shrugged his broad shoulders, a defeated expression on his face.

She rubbed her cheek against the soft fabric of Jim’s shirt, savoring his nearness. “I only hope that someday my husband will love me as much as your dad loved your mom.”

Jim squeezed the pint-sized treasure closer to him, finding strength in her softness. He placed a feathery-soft kiss on the top of Trixie’s sandy curls. “He will, Shamus,” he whispered huskily. “I promise he will.”

Trixie remained ensconced in Jim’s harboring embrace for several minutes, neither willing to move first. Finally, Jim reluctantly pulled away.

“Trix, I’d better finish studying now.”

Knowing Jim better than she knew herself, Trixie realized he needed a moment alone. With a nod, she stood from her spot on the bed. “I need to get back to Honey’s room anyway. We’re working on a project for school.”

“See ya later, alligator.” He managed to muster a crooked grin.

“After while, crocodile.” Impetuously, Trixie leaned down and placed a swift kiss on Jim’s freckled cheek before scurrying back across the hall.

Two pairs of eyes, one hazel and one violet, looked up in surprise as Trixie bounded back into Honey’s room.

“Where’s the paper?” Di asked, arching on black brow inquisitively.

“Paper?” Trixie repeated.

“Yes, the extremely thin objects on which we write,” Honey explained with a giggle.

Trixie stared at her friends, still oblivious to what they meant.

“The reason you went to Jim’s room… to get paper?” Di crossed her arms in front of her, a smug expression on her pretty face. “You forgot the paper, didn’t you?”

“The paper!” Trixie abruptly slapped her palm against her forehead. “Jim and I started talking, and I kinda forgot to ask for it.” She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, guys.”

“We’ll forgive you,” Honey drawled out dramatically, “this time. But don’t let it happen again, missy.”

Trixie grinned tartly at her friends. “Girl Scout honor,” she promised.

“That’s okay.” Di sighed loudly, pretending to be greatly irritated. “I suppose we’ll just have to use this.” With a flourish, she pulled out the sketchpad from her backpack that she used in art class.

Both Trixie and Honey squealed as Diana collapsed in a fit of giggles.

“You sneak!” Trixie exclaimed. “You sent me to Jim’s room for paper, and all the while you had some!”

Di gave Trixie a cheeky grin. “Forgive me?”

“This time,” Trixie scolded sternly, a hint of a smile twitching at the corners of her lips as she purposely repeated Honey’s words. “But don’t let it happen again, missy.”

“Oh, déjá vu,” Honey said with a lift of her eyebrows. “Now, who’s ready for that snack we talked about earlier?”

“Me!” Diana hopped up from the bed and bounded towards the door, Honey clipping at her heels. A few feet behind, Trixie stood a bit more slowly, her fingertips touching her lips, remembering what Jim’s skin felt like against them. Brushing back the curl that often found its way to middle of her forehead, she smiled as she thought of the most wonderful boy in the world.

And although she forgot to ask about the paper, someday Trixie would remember something else much more important…

Credits:

Jim and Brian are attending Harvard University, as we’ve learned in several other stories. As you can probably guess, the bulk of Brian’s tuition is being financed by various scholarships.

Trixie, Honey, and Diana’s project was based on a project that my friends and I did our senior year of high school for Shakespeare class. We had a ball and got high marks for creativity, so I decided to let the girls try it. I’m sure Mrs. Shultz gave them an “A”. *wink*

The story of Win and Katje’s first meeting can be found in several stories found at The Cameo.

In “My Boy” I had Jim find the picture of his mother and father in Uncle James’ Family Bible. However, one of my editors wondered why it hadn’t fallen out when Trixie shook it, so I had to do a little explaining. Hope my explanation is plausible!

BTW, the passage where Jim found the picture is where the verse he often quotes is located.